As Gilligan rowed to the shore of the island, the Skipper hopped out and began to tug the canoe up to the dry land. Gilligan hopped out as well to assist his "big buddy" in the task. They hid their canoe well in the tall grass surrounding the area. Gilligan cautiously looked over his shoulder, checking to see if anyone might be spying on them. The Skipper did the same. There was nothing but silence, and the only thing either men could hear was the rapid pounding of their anxious hearts. Gilligan, not paying attention to what was beneath him, snapped a twig. The Skipper jumped, whirling around with a knife in his hand. The Skipper gave Gilligan an annoyed look for scaring him so, but didn't udder even a rebuke.

"Sorry," Gilligan whispered.

Poor Jolani! The Skipper had thought. No wonder she was so jumpy and so shy. She was quite outgoing with him and Doris, but the rest, she barely spoke a word to. In fact, it was a real accomplishment that she had wanted to go berry picking with Mary Ann that morning. Of course, the Skipper did realize that Jolani had lost her parents no more than a couple of days ago. It was quite reasonable for her to feel the way she felt. In fact, the Skipper thought she was handling thing better than he could have. More than anything, the Skipper wanted Jolani to know that she never had to be afraid with them... any of them.

"Gee, it sure is quiet," Gilligan stated, "I hope it stays that way." He gulped, and the Skipper noticed Gilligan's knees were knocking and beads of perspiration had formed on his head.

"Me too, little buddy," the Skipper replied, looking over at his best friend. As close as they were walking, they could have very well been joined at the hip. As they walked, they noticed the island didn't look much different than there own. As they neared the tribal camp, they did notice one big difference. A thick swarm of gnats hovered the area, and the air was filled with the stench of spilled blood and rotting flesh. The Skipper held his breath and Gilligan gagged and coughed at the smell. He willed himself not to vomit. Both men attempted to bury their noses and mouths into the collars of their shirts.

They approached the open area to where the camp was, and the sight before them resembled a war zone, as they gazed upon bodies that were either burned, slashed, or impaled. Both men looked at each other wide eyed. Each one acknowledged that look the other one held. "We're not going to cry, are we?" They mentally told each other with their expressions.

"I wonder where all the children are?" Gilligan asked, as he observed not a one body appeared to be under the age of fourteen or so.

"I don't know, but I have three theories, and none of them are good," the Skipper said, "they were either spared and taken to the other island to be sex slaves or manual labor slaves. The least threatening scenario would be they were taken for the sole purpose of being brainwashed into believing whatever that other tribe wants them to."

"Why, Skipper, why?" Gilligan shook his head in disbelief and despair.

"Gilligan, that's something I just can't answer," he said, hanging his head, "come on, we need to look around some more. Let's hope we don't run into anyone dangerous.

They practically tiptoed around the area, stepping over dead bodies and surveying everyone around them. Skipper took a mental tally and came up with a total of twenty men and women combined, four of which were white. He assumed this was the crew that had been sent with Jolani's father. One had to be the doctor, one a teacher, the other the co-minister, and one more being Jolani's father. He caught sight of a man close to his age. A pair of mangled glasses lay by his dead form. Laying also beside him was a black leather bound Bible.

"Bingo!" The Skipper whispered. He knelt down next to the man, picked up the glasses and the Bible. A tear slid down his face. If this was indeed who the Skipper thought it was, he had to make sure Jolani never found out what kind of awful death he had died. His face was bruised and swollen, and his throat had been slit from ear to ear. He wiped the cover of the Bible off with a cloth he found laying nearby. He opened up the cover and read the inscription inside:

Presented to our son, Marcus Levi Hansen, from your loving parents, Elijah and Miriam Hansen. We are so proud of you.

The Skipper closed it back up and stuck it and the glasses in the satchel he had brought along. He moved on to the woman right next to him, and assumed this had to be Jolani's mother. Undeniably, there was a resemblance there. As he neared the woman, the Skipper caught scent of another odor besides blood and flesh. The horrific thought that Mrs. Hansen had been violated before being slain turned his stomach.

"You poor woman," the Skipper whispered to her, "what you must have went through. My only thought and prayer is that your sweet daughter didn't see much of anything."

"Hey Skipper, can we get outta here? Huh?" Gilligan asked. "I mean, I don't see anybody... I don't want to run the risk of seeing anybody either."

"Soon Gilligan," the Skipper said, "We need to find a shovel and bury these people."

"All of them!"

"Of course all of them. It's only fitting. It's only proper. They deserve some dignity after everything they've been through." Gilligan and the Skipper began to search the area for some shovels. It wasn't a long search before they found some. Then, the two men went about gathering blankets, tarp, sheets... anything they could find to wrap the bodies in. Though this wasn't what they had planned, both men spent most of the afternoon wrapping bodies. Once coming to Jolani's mother, the Skipper leaned down to remove the necklace around her neck. Perhaps the Professor could find a way to disinfect the piece of jewelry. Her skin had already begun to deteriorate some, and that certainly meant all sorts of bacteria. The Skipper wanted to take this piece back to Jolani. She could always have it near her and be able to remember her birth mother. Gilligan caught sight of what the Skipper was doing and gave him a strange look?

"You taking things from the dead, Skipper?"

"No Gilligan, this is for Jolani. I think she might want something personal of her mother's. Her father's Bible and reading glasses are in my satchel." The Skipper thought about the glasses. They were mangled and broken. He decided that maybe that wasn't the best thing he could take back. It would only serve to remind Jolani that her father had to put up a struggle. He quickly removed the glasses. Though it didn't matter, the Skipper carefully tucked the glasses into the minister's tattered shirt pocket.

"Come on, Gilligan. Let's get to shoveling," the Skipper instructed.

With each shovel of dirt he dug, the Skipper had that gloomy, depressed feeling he had the day he buried his son. The sound the shovel made as it hit the dirt seemed to be a lament for those who were no longer among the living. Unfortunately, the Skipper knew he and Gilligan would have to do this many more times before they were finished. There was just no way they could finish the job before night fall. At first, the Skipper thought of burying the people two or three at a time in the same hole. At one point he wouldn't have thought twice about doing such a thing. It would have only been practical. Now, however, he couldn't think of anything that would have been more disrespectful. At least with both him and Gilligan digging, it wouldn't take quite as long.

The two men were silent as they went about their work. The Skipper tore into the ground, trying to dig the graves as fast as his body would allow him to, and Gilligan did likewise. By the time the sun started to dip toward the horizon, they together had dug twelve graves. Their back and arm muscles burned and ached terribly. Both men were out of breath, coughing at the stench that continued to pollute the air. They looked at each other briefly, as they wiped the sweat from their own brows. The Skipper took a swallow of water from his canteen before he spoke.

"Gilligan, we'll never make it before nightfall," he said to his crestfallen friend. All Gilligan wanted to do was to go home, take a hot bath, kiss his wife, and rock his daughter to sleep.

"Let's just go," Gilligan begged, "I feel awful for these people, but they don't know any difference."

"I'll know," the Skipper scowled, "these people died standing up for what they believed in. That's bravery right there. I tell you, if it was me, I would have told that tribe anything they wanted to hear probably... then I wouldn't have been able to live with myself afterwards. Now, we're staying until the job is done, and that's final! We'll take a little break. You go light some torches, I'll go gather some water and build a fire. They have to have supplies around here somewhere. Perhaps, we'll even find some food. Your stomach's growling louder than mine, little buddy." The Skipper had lightened up some on his last comment. He hadn't meant to yell at Gilligan. He knew the only thing his First Mate had on his mind were Mary Ann and Grace, just as he had Doris and Jolani on his mind.

I think I'm really starting to love that little girl. I know she's not my daughter, but if in time... perhaps, maybe, someday she may think of Doris and I as her adoptive parents. She sure doesn't take the place of Johnny...she's her own person. I love her for her, and I'll always love Johnny too. I know Doris must feel the same way. Boy, I sure don't know what I'm going to tell her when I present her parent's personal belongings to her? What if she asks what happened? What if she asks me what I saw? How do you explain to a seven year old little girl that her parents were murdered in cold blood?

The Skipper made his way through the jungle, gathering stray branches and twigs for kindling. He didn't think to bring matches with them, he certainly didn't think there would be any need for it. He was glad to have Gilligan with him. In spite of his clumsy nature, Gilligan could start a fire quicker than anybody the Skipper ever saw. Gilligan's Eagle Scout days had served him well in that respect. Speaking of which, when the Skipper came back from gathering wood, the torches had already been lit. He then went in search of a bucket or two where they could gather some water. It wouldn't be a hard task, for surely every hut had to have a few buckets. The Skipper was about to make his way to find a spring of fresh water, when he noticed that he hadn't seen Gilligan. Where did he go? Suddenly, he heard Gilligan's voice calling to him from inside a tiny little hut to his left.

"Skipper! Hey Skipper, come here!" Gilligan said, as he stuck his head out the door and motioned his big buddy in. The Skipper made his way in that direction. Gilligan opened the door for him to gain entrance. "Look what I found." He said.

The Skipper was shocked at the sight he saw before him. This was not just any hut, it was a little communication shack where the reverend Hansen must have kept in touch with family and friends. Unfortunately, the metallic mess that lay before him hardly resembled a transmitter. There was a man, laying dead over the table that the demolished transmitter was sitting on.

"Oh no!" The Skipper replied as he picked up a broke tube and a cut wire, "the Professor can't do anything with this. You can barely tell what half of these parts are suppose to be." He sighed and tossed the busted tube to the floor in frustration. Then, the Skipper examined the man slumped over the table. He noticed something quite remarkable about him...he was not one of Jolani's people.

"Gilligan, come here!" The Skipper said, motioning him over. "Look at him! See there, remember how the Professor said some tribes are known for their adornments? Well, this man has a ring through his nose, and there is a sun and moon painted on his arm. His hair is about waist length. All those men out there had none of these adornments and their hair was cut short. He must be from the other tribe. Perhaps he changed his loyalties at the last minute and tried to get help for those people."

"I'll go find him a blanket and we'll dig another hole,' Gilligan said, "at the very least he attempted to be a hero."

"He sure enough did," the Skipper said.

...

As night fell, the Skipper had gathered plenty of water for him and Gilligan to wash up with. They found some soap to use, and while looking for soap they had found some food supplies. In the midst of the village, there had been a pantry of sorts, where they found fresh fruit and vegetables, canned goods such as formed meat, chili, soups, hash. Gilligan and the Skipper nearly jumped for joy over their find, but they weren't joyous just because of the food.

"Gilligan, do you know what this means?" The Skipper said and Gilligan nodded his head.

"It means that someone or some group was sending provisions from the states. Am I right, Skipper?"

"You most certainly are, little buddy! Just look, fresh produce. If they sent this, they will surely send out more. Think about it, Gilligan, our two islands are so close together that if a ship or plane comes over, we could be rescued! All we have to do is start setting signal fires like we used to."

Gilligan and the Skipper gathered a couple cans of hash, a few peaches and apples, and some string beans and headed out of the hut. First, they scrubbed themselves as well as they could before consuming anything. After everything they had touched that day, they could have been considered a walking bio-hazard. Once clean, they blanched every fresh item they touched in a fresh pot of boiling water.

Though they were famished and hadn't had such food in a very long time, they ate very slowly, savoring every bite of the soft, salty, warm hash. Oh the delectable juiciness of the peach and the tart taste and crispy crunch of the apple was almost more enjoyment for one's mouth to take. Once they were done, the two men buried a few bodies by torch light and dug a few more holes.

"Gilligan," the Skipper said after a couple of hours, "obviously we are going to have to spend the night here. I made a vow to myself to get these people buried, but I'm so sore that it's going to have to wait until morning."

"Do we really have to?" Gilligan protested. "I don't mean to whine, but poor Mary Ann... I know her. She worrying her head off right now. I just know it."

"Gilligan, I know. I can't stop thinking about Doris," the Skipper said, "she's probably pacing the floor. What I wouldn't give to be able to simply call her and say that I'm alright and she has no need to worry. However, we get done what we have to tomorrow and we'll head straight out. You go get some rest and I'll stand as a look out."

"Are you sure, Skipper?"

"I'm sure."

"Good night, Skipper."

"Good night, Gilligan."

...

Meanwhile, back on their own island, Mary Ann and Doris were waiting impatiently for their husbands to return. Grace slept soundly in Mary Ann's arms, as she listened to Jolani saying her bedtime prayers. Doris then tucked the little girl into her bed and kissed her good night.

"Miss Doris, when do you think Mr. Skipper is coming back with the boar? Do you think he's alright?" Jolani asked with genuine concerned.

"Don't you worry about him, Jolani. The Skipper and Gilligan are best friends and they don't get time to do things together. I'm sure they just lost track of the time and decided to camp out in a cave for the evening. You'll see them tomorrow," Doris explained calmly.

"You promise?" Mary Ann and Doris looked at one another. They didn't know what to say. Finally, Doris spoke up.

"Jolani, you remembered the Skipper and Gilligan in your prayers. That's all you can do right now. Just close your pretty brown eyes and get some sleep. That will be the best thing for you."

Once Jolani was asleep, Mary Ann whispered to Doris. "I'm frightened, Doris. I thought they would have been back by night fall. Can I stay here with you? I don't really feel like going home."

"That's fine with me," Doris said, "you take my bed, and I'll sleep in my rocker." Mary Ann started to protest. "No, it's fine. You and Grace will sleep better in the bed."

As Mary Ann was getting ready for bed, Doris sat in her rocker, thinking of her husband. Was he truly alright as she was trying to convince everyone else? She closed her eyes and pictured his smiling face.

Darling, where are you? Why haven't you come home?