8. Waiting
11:40 AM day 2
"Professor!" The Skipper shouted as he stepped into camp and set Gilligan on the ground. "We found him!"
He had carried the little first mate back to the compound. The Skipper had been in a hurry to return, both to rejoin the others and to see if the Professor had made any progress. With Gilligan's size he couldn't have kept up with the captain's swift pace. Gilligan was glad to be set down. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about being carried around like a helpless little kid. But he was beginning to think he didn't like it.
The Professor poked his head out of the supply hut and let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good." The high school teacher looked as exhausted as his voice sounded. "Are you hurt?"
Gilligan shook his head, having to look straight up at the resident genius. "I'm fine. But I kind of hate to do that to Gladys. She's gonna be pretty upset when she comes back and finds me gone."
"She'll get over it." The Skipper said with a roll of his eyes. All that was going on and Gilligan was concerned about his pet monkey's mental health! He turned to the Professor who, considering his unkempt appearance could have passed for a city bum. "Have you made any progress?"
The Professor looked at him with tired blue eyes and shook his head slowly. "Not yet." He ran a hand through his uncombed, dusty brown hair. "Listen, I really need to get back to work."
"Hold on, Professor." The Skipper grabbed his arm before he could renter the hut and shut the door on them. "Maybe Gilligan was right. A rest might help you think better. You look awful."
The Professor straightened in a rather unsuccessful display of vigor. "I'm fine, Skipper. Really. I'm just a little tired. Besides, as I explained previously, I simply don't have time." He glanced meaningfully down at Gilligan, who cocked his head curiously, then back up at the Skipper. "Remember, I'm working against a deadline."
The Skipper winced at his friend's word choice and nodded. "Good luck, Professor." He gave the Professor's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.
The Professor gave a small nod of thanks before disappearing back into the supply hut.
Gilligan looked up at the Skipper, a small frown puckering his boyish face. "What did he mean, 'working against a deadline'?"
"Ep…well…it's…" He stammered a bit, caught off guard by the question and still not wanting Gilligan to fully comprehend the danger he was in. "It's nothing you need to worry about."
Gilligan stared at the supply hut door for a moment. He was worried about the Professor. The Skipper was right, he looked awful. He had hardly been out of that hut at all since yesterday morning and it was obvious that he had done nothing but work on that troublesome machine the entire time.
"Gilligan!"
At the sound of the voice they both turned to see Ginger and Mary Ann emerge from the forest.
The young farm girl rushed up to them. "Gilligan, I'm so glad you're alright! I was so worried about you."
As she approached Gilligan let out a small yelp, clamped both hands over his eyes and turned his head down.
Mary Ann frowned, both confused and put off by the reaction. "Gilligan, that's not very nice. Look at me when I'm talking."
"No." He shook his head, still staring at the ground.
The young farm girl glanced at the Skipper and Ginger both of them gave her a shrug that showed they were just as confused as she was. "Why not?"
"Because I'm way down here and you're wearing a dress…"
"Oh!" Mary Ann cried in realization, reaching down and holding her skirt so it hugged her legs. Her cheeks turned a little pink as she hurried toward her hut. "I'll go change into some pants."
"Thanks."
The Skipper allowed himself a small snicker and Ginger giggled.
With a bit of a laugh in her voice the movie star spoke to Gilligan, who still had his eyes covered. "You can look now, Gilligan."
He didn't move. "Are you wearing a dress?"
"Yes. But you can look anyway." She gave the Skipper a sly wink.
"Oh, no!" Gilligan shook his head vigorously.
"I promise my dress won't give you any trouble."
"Cross your heart?"
The Skipper rolled his eyes. "Oh, for heaven sake, Gilligan!"
Ginger smiled, amused. "Cross my heart."
Gilligan opened one eye and peeked through his fingers. He relaxed and dropped both hands as he saw that her sparkling gown was so long it brushed sand at her feet. "Hey, you're right."
The movie star crossed her arms and shook her head a little. "My, Gilligan, you certainly are shy."
Before Gilligan had a chance to respond here was a loud moan from behind them. They all turned to see Mr. Howell stumble into the clearing. His safari outfit now looked as if it had actually been used as such. Dirt smudged the khaki fabric and there was a tear in his left sleeve. His pith helmet was missing and bits of foliage adorned his thinning hair. His wife followed close behind looking a bit spent but none the worse for wear.
The millionaire dragged himself across the clearing and collapsed onto the bench beside the table.
They all hurried over to him. Gilligan, now an inch or two shorter than the bench, hopped up and grabbed the edge. He hung there for a moment before he was able to swing a leg up and haul himself onto the bench so he was standing next to Mr. Howell.
The millionaire glanced down at him. "Gilligan, my boy, you better stay away from that ape of yours. Because I am not, repeat, not doing that again!"
"What happened?" Gilligan asked. The tear in the millionaire's shirt was big enough for him to crawl through. "You're a mess!"
"That rabid beast that you call a pet decided to use me as a scratching post!"
Gilligan winced slightly at the volume of Mr. Howell's voice. It was clear that the millionaire blamed him for the encounter. "I'm sorry, Mr. Howell. She didn't hurt you, did she?"
He didn't directly answer the question but they all knew that had the financial genius been injured in the slightest he would not have kept it a secret.
"Do me a favor, Gilligan. Next time you insist on being kidnapped make sure it's by someone who understands the concept of ransom."
1:30 PM day2
It was just after lunch. Mary Ann had made a huge meal since, due to Gilligan's abduction, no one had a chance to make breakfast. Now Gilligan sat, cross-legged on the table, staring at a checkerboard that reminded him of the floor of a diner back home. The squares were just about the same size as floor tiles.
"Skipper?"
"Hmm?" The captain looked up from the game to see a thoughtful frown on his first mate's tiny face. He was trying to keep Gilligan busy, too busy to really think about his predicament. He didn't think it was working.
"The people who own that machine are going to be here in a few days." He stood up and picked up a red checker the size of a large pizza and moved it a space. After sitting back down he looked up at his shipmate. "What are you going to do when we're rescued? I mean, are you still going to go back to the Navy?"
"I guess so. Why?"
"Well…" Gilligan hesitated a moment as if searching for the right words. "I don't think I can make the weight limit."
The Skipper felt a sudden ache in his chest. He had been trying hard not to think about his little buddy's condition, telling himself that the Professor would find a solution any minute. But he knew the clock was ticking and every time he looked at Gilligan he could see that that time was rapidly running out. It took great effort to make his reply sound casual. "By the time we get rescued you'll be back to your regular size." He lifted a black checker and jumped one of Gilligan's pieces.
"I hope so because if I tried to eat myself up to regulations from this size I think I'd get sick." He stood again, lifted a game piece, jumped three black pieces, walking as he moved. Dropping the checker at the edge of the board he looked up at the Skipper with a sly grin. "King me."
--
Mary Ann stared into the soapy water where sat the dishes from lunch. The image blurred as tears glistened in her brown eyes. Ginger had told her about the seriousness of Gilligan's loss of height. Before, she had just been worried about him because he was small. Now that she knew the whole story she couldn't keep herself from crying. She slapped the dishrag into the water, hung her head and allowed herself a little sob.
With one tear slipping down her cheek she turned to Ginger, who was sitting at the small table pretending to help. "I can't stand just standing here doing nothing while Gilligan is…is…" She sniffed and brought a hand up to her mouth. "There has to be something we can do."
The movie star stood and put a comforting hand on her friend's back. She shook her head, bouncing her fiery read hair around her neck. "The Professor says that the only solution is for him to figure out that machine. I don't see how we can help with that." She too was concerned about Gilligan. It's true that he seriously annoyed her from time to time but he was also kind and generous. He was like the little brother she had never had and didn't want to lose him.
"I guess you're right." Mary Ann girl balled her hands in frustration. "But I just feel so helpless!"
"Just remember that hope…hope is the strength, the fire that keeps us alive through the fearful gloom of night where mists of despair threaten to cloud our hearts. It sees us through to the glowing, sunlight dawn!"
"That's beautiful." Mary Ann said quietly, only somewhat comforted by the analogy.
The actress smiled a bit. "It's from a touching, romantic movie I was in."
"What was the title?"
"The Zombie That Ate Memphis."
--
Mr. Howell was pacing, one hand holding the other behind his back. If he stooped a bit more he would have looked like Groucho Marx. "What is taking that egghead so long? How much time could it take to flip a couple of switches?"
"I'm sure the Professor is trying his best." Mrs. Howell said from her chair at the vanity. "After all, Dear, he still has six hours."
"Lovey, six hours is nothing! That boy is downsizing like a company on its last legs!" A little quieter he added. "If my stock dropped like that I'd die."
3:25 PM day 2
The Professor held a ruler up to the tiny coconut. One inch. It was still shrinking. The measurement blurred slightly. He blinked rapidly bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose. He shook his head determinedly and moved over to the desk where lay a scattering of papers filled with mathematical equations. The moment he put pencil to paper what he had been about to write vanished from his mind. He let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. He had to stay awake. Mind over matter. Gilligan's life was at stake.
He scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to expel the cobwebs that were forming in his head. He had been bent over this table and that blasted machine since nearly 8:00 the day before and his body was loudly protesting the lack of rest.
But he couldn't give in. He had not found a solution yet and he didn't seem to be getting any closer. A hollow feeling settled itself in his chest and he felt his throat tighten. He couldn't fail. The price was far too high. Gilligan was counting on him. Everyone was counting on him. Everything was on his shoulders and at the moment he felt that load would break his back. Hot liquid settled in the corners of his eyes but he quickly blinked it back.
He was becoming emotional he realized suddenly. That too was a sign of exhaustion. He needed a stimulant of some kind, coffee perhaps. Anything to keep him alert. He would get up and ask Ginger to make some in a minute.
Leaning forward, propping his forehead in his palm he gazed at the equation on the desk. The image wavered and duplicated itself as his eyes crossed slightly. He closed his eyes and found that they didn't want to open again. His eyelids felt as if they were made of lead and his head felt the same. It didn't matter, he told himself. He couldn't sleep, not now!
He tried to fight it. He fought with every ounce of strength he had. But after an epic battle his body won. Consciousness slipped from his grasp and he was soon fast asleep, pencil in hand and head resting on a jumbled pile of mathematical notes.