A Cheap Date...

“All right, you two, off you go,” said Rob, captain of the small craft that had brought the middle-aged couple to the island. They stood hand-in-hand on a long wooden dock that stretched all the way to the white sands of a beautiful beach. “Have a fantastic weekend.” Rob held up a walkie-talkie from the deck and shook it back and forth. “Remember, this is your lifeline. You need anything, anything at all, you use it. Okay?” Carl, a moderately overweight accountant dressed in tan slacks and a red plaid button-down, held up his radio and smiled. Mindy, slender and dark, simply nodded, waving. She could pass for thirty, although she was eight years older. “And stay out of the forest, especially after dark. There’s plenty of beach to explore and camp on. The natives here, they aren't so friendly and that’s their territory, the trees. If you do encounter any of them, smile and keep going.”

“You betcha!” Carl yelled back as the boat pulled slowly away, leaving them alone on an island that had taken several hours to reach. Mindy waved until the craft was out of sight.

The brochure Carl had seen was very clear: Two days on a remote island. No hotels, no technology, and no stress. The rest was up to them.

“Now that it’s quiet, it’s eerie here,” she said to Carl, who was already rummaging through their big black duffle bag.

He moved something aside, peered in carefully, and nodded. “Good. I didn’t forget the matches,” he said mostly to himself. Looking up, he smiled. “Oh, honey, everything is fine. I've watched hours and hours of videos about beach camping, and I was a Boy Scout.” He checked his watch, a digital Timex. “It’s three now. That gives us a lot of time to find home. I say we go that way, around the bend and see what’s there.”

Mindy sighed. “I know, you're right. I’m nervous, that's all.” She dropped her shoulders with a hint of a smile. “Yeah. That way. Let’s go see.”

Carl grabbed up the duffle, turned, and slipped on the dock. Arms flailing, he managed to stay on the dock, but the radio wasn't so lucky. Just as Carl regained his footing, the small black unit went into the sea with an anticlimactic bloosh. A bubble rose to the surface, and then nothing more.

Mindy, not wanting to point out the obvious, said nothing; the look on her face was plenty loud.

Carl balled his fists and his face was turning red. “Oh, come on,” he yelled to the sky. “Are you serious?”

Mindy ran to his side. “Oh, Carl! What are we going to do?”

“I don't know.” His face was still red, and he was perspiring. “Maybe it's a marine unit? Could be waterproof?”

Mindy shook her head. “No. I asked on the way here. You were on deck I think, with the other guy. Captain Rob said it can't get wet.”

They peered down to the spot it had gone in like mourning lovers over a fresh grave. Carl picked up the duffle once more. “Well, that's that. The boat is gone and so is the radio. Let's find a site.”

Mindy admired his fortitude, and shrugged her shoulders. “Might as well get set up, right? It’s only two days. We’ll be fine.”

He carried their bag, switching arms every so often as they walked, the soft sand slowly filling their shoes. Mindy stayed beside him, scanning the beach for possible refuge.

It wasn't long before they found a small, uninhabited cave a quarter mile down, perfect for keeping them out of the wind, which was picking up swiftly. White caps topped angry swells that before were calm and smooth.

“We had better get set up quickly,” Carl said. “Looks like weather is on the way.”

When the rain came, Carl had just finished a makeshift door for the cave using branches and enormous date leaves that dotted the landscape. They huddled inside, half laughing and half panicked, rubbing their hands together against the chill.

The sky darkened and the rain came down harder. From the cave, it sounded like they were stuck in a washing machine on tennis shoe day. Mindy peeked out through the date leaves. “What if we get flooded out of here, Carl?”

He had been organizing an area for their clothes. He stopped briefly to consider her, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a smile. “Nah. We've got fifty feet of beach before the water. All good.”

She frowned. “Not anymore.”

Carl joined her at the foliage door. “Dear Jesus.”

The clouds were so dark now they seemed to become one with the black and frothy waters of the sea at the horizon. The storm, along with the natural ingress of tide, had caused most of that fifty feet of sand to disappear; their beach was being consumed.

Mindy was shaking, both from cold and from fear, rising up inside her like fire. “Can we stay here? It isn't safe, is it?”

Carl shrugged, bewildered. “I don't know, honey. We'll give it a few minutes, see if it lets up.”

Mindy nodded to him, arms wrapped round her middle. “Did you find the jackets yet?”

Warmer now, they waited, peering out from behind sticks and leaves, praying they wouldn't have to leave the relative safety of their tiny shelter and venture out into the raging monsoon.

They rubbed their hands together as the wind grew stronger and the rain hissed. They ate beef jerky and shared a lukewarm soda. Then they sat near the back of the cave, watching the darkening sky.

Suddenly there were shadows outside. Hands reached in through the foliage, tore it down. Three men with gray skin and sharp features stood before them, armed with spears. Their hair, what little they had, was also gray and nearly indistinguishable from skin. Leather kilts, brown and earthy, wrapped round their waists and ended just above the knees.

They made no sounds as they charged in and pinned the pair to the rocky wall of the cave. Their skin, clammy and cool, seemed to emit a faint blue-white light all its own.

Jesus, they fucking glow, Mindy thought, her heart thumping like a train's engine.

While two of them restrained Carl and Mindy, the third rummaged through their belongings, occasionally sniffing or licking items before discarding them on the cave floor. After a minute or so, he turned and shook his head at his friends, who nodded back and released the couple before moving to the middle of the cave.

The one who had looked through their things approached slowly, confidently. “Affim mooh lahr,” he said in a scratchy and thin voice.

The couple exchanged confused glances and the gray man smiled. “English is it, then?”

Nodding.

“Very well. Welcome. I apologize for the entrance. One can't be too careful these days. Are you on vacation? How did you find us?”

“It was on a brochure,” Carl said, voice pale as his skin. “We rode here in a boat, got dropped off.”

“I see,” he said. “And how long ago?”

Carl frowned as he thought. “Gosh, I don't know; two, three hours?”

The gray man cocked his head, brow furrowed. “No radio?”

Carl looked to the cave floor. Mindy looked at Carl. “No, I'm afraid not. We weren't here a few minutes when it fell into the drink.” The gray man remained quiet, a hint of confusion in his expression. “The ocean. Out there. It's gone. No radio.”

“I understand now,” he said. “Pity.”

Mindy chimed in. “Do you guys live here? In the forest?”

The gray man nodded.

“Are you honest?” Even as the question exited her mouth, Mindy thought someone else must have asked it in her voice. Carl raised his eyebrows.

The gray man laughed quietly. “Honest? Well, that depends. To some, yes. Not all. Why do you ask?”

“Because I don't like guessing games. So be honest. Are you going to hurt us? We haven't done anything wrong.”

“We'll decide that. Gather your things. Come.”

They were led into the forest, deep and dark. These men didn't fear the storm at all. In fact, they seemed unaffected. Carl and Mindy trudged on behind them, clothes wet and heavy.

When they reached their camp, which was more like a small village, they were directed to a beige wigwam slathered in red symbols.

Inside sat an elderly shaman, his pallid skin wrinkled as the pelt which shrouded his shoulders. Long white hair cascaded down his back and onto bare earth behind him. Although the wigwam was vented for smoke, no rain fell inside.

“Westerners," he said, quiet and deep. “What is your business here?” He lit a homemade pipe and rich plumes of smoke rose into the air. He offered it to Carl, who accepted and puffed. Mindy gave him a look that said What are you doing? and Carl made his eyes big, as if to say Shut up! We're not saying no. Once he was done, Mindy, who had some experience with social drugs, took a big drag and coughed. Then she went back for another, shaking her head.

Carl, loosened now from the substance in the pipe, spoke freely. “We're on vacation, sir. I was waiting for car repairs and reading a travel guide at the garage. This island was a destination, and it was cheap.”

The shaman nodded as Mindy recovered, doing her best to stifle coughs. “And now you're here.”

Carl nodded. “Yes, sir. We mean no harm. It was just a getaway.”

“It was just a getaway,” the shaman said, his eyes becoming luminous. The whites turned electric blue and the irises danced between orange and yellow. “And now, you've gotten away.” He laughed, a genuine laugh that caused the couple to laugh, as well.

Carl was beginning to sweat and feel lightheaded. “What is that stuff?” he asked, pointing to the pipe.

The shaman’s laughter turned into a coughing fit as he lit the bowl again. “It’s magic. Watch. You’ll see.”

The couple exchanged uneasy glances but were already feeling the affects of the drug, which was taking hold violently. Now the floor moved, becoming a sea of earthy necktie designs spiraling into one another like miniature typhoons, each becoming consumed by the others as they collided, over and over into eternity. The walls of the wigwam bellowed out and fell in, and the air grew hot, then cold, but mostly hot. They were both perspiring now.

Mindy, who was still recovering from the large hits she took and was looking around like a child on her first trip to the circus, first laughed, covering her mouth with her hands as the shaman’s face melted, took the shape of a giraffe’s, and hardened once again. Then she screamed. Tiny glowing lights the size of baseballs were flooding into the wigwam from the partially open flap door, filling the space above them like animated stars. Carl saw them, too, and the shaman batted a few away as they flew around his giraffe head.

The shaman became surrounded by the lights, which spun around him like a cyclone. The sound was a hundred thousand bees. Carl, who’d smoked far less than Mindy, took advantage of the situation and motioned to the open tent flap. Her hands were still over her mouth. She nodded and half-scooted, half-rolled toward it, the drug affecting her equilibrium. She ended up crawling outside with Carl close behind.

In the rain again now, Carl stood and tried to pick his wife up, but she was like a rag doll, limp and noodly. Her eyes swam in their sockets. “We've got to go, honey. Come on, you can do this.”

But she couldn’t do it. Her legs gave out each time and she plopped to the ground, hard. The electric tornado inside the wigwam raged on, the light emanating from the flap so bright and so white it was blinding. Carl tried again, but Mindy wasn't going anywhere on her own. He would have to carry her. He looked around. Gray men armed with spears ran toward them from a small brown structure, shouting and waving. Carl readied himself to pick up his wife when the deafening buzz inside the tent grew louder and the light became brighter, more intense.

It was coming out, now, whatever had surrounded the shaman, flooding through the flap like water charged with the energy of a thousand suns. It spun around the couple so quickly and so fiercely it appeared solid, shielding them from the gray men. Then the couple was weightless, soaring over trees and water and land, their magic carpet of light moving and flowing below them as if it had solid mass.

They were set down on another part of the island, far away from where they were dropped off and where they camped briefly, and far away from the gray men. The balls of light came together then, taking the shape of a young woman. Gold wings, six feet long each, flapped and curled behind her. “I’m Bree. Those men are to be avoided at all cost. The smoke you inhaled should wear off in a couple of hours. Until then, stay here, under there.” The couple, loopy and terrified, scurried underneath a comically large fallen tree that looked like it had been there for ages. “I will return when it is safe,” Bree said. She flew off, heavy wings batting the air as she shot up and out of the forest.

The couple huddled together underneath the gigantic fallen tree. It was dry there, at least. But then the ground was moving again. Only this time, instead of necktie designs from the Seventies, it was snakes. Hundreds of them, thousands maybe, all slithering and moving as if there were one single brain controlling the lot. Mindy screamed and ran into the forest. Carl sat stock still, the blood leaving his face as consciousness vacated the premises.

Then the forest was gone, along with the snakes. A bright white light above Carl's head, directly in his eyes. “Well, good morning, there,” said an older man in blue scrubs and a surgical mask. “You two had quite the time, I understand.”

Carl tried to speak, but there was no sound. The surgeon held up a finger. “Not yet, friend. Soon. For now, just relax and close those peepers. Nap as much as you can.” Carl must have made a confused face because the surgeon smiled with his eyes and nodded. “Don't remember what happened? I wouldn't worry, that’s common. You and your wife were in an accident, on the freeway. Your car is done for, but the good news is that although you both got banged up, you're going to be fine. Mindy has a few scrapes, nothing serious. You have a heck of a concussion, though, friend, so take it easy. And, there’s more good news.” The surgeon leaned forward and lowered his voice as if he were speaking to a child. “There were tickets in the glove box. Do you remember? You guys are going on vacation next week! A cute little island somewhere. Won't that be fun?”