Mary Jane and the Monkey
If those two wittle nut-cwackers think they can out-smawt me, they've got another thing coming.
- Elmer J. Fudd
Three
She tore through the jungle as fast as her petite legs would carry her, arms pumping, leaping over fallen logs and ducking under low-hanging branches with a deftness she was now well-acquainted with. The sounds of her three friends hurrying after her faded into the distance as she easily outran them. She heard Ginger bellow her name and demand that she slow down as she pulled the hem of her gown off the ground and tried to follow in her high-heels. Mr. Howell impatiently urged his wife forward as she did her best to keep up doing a rapid, yet still very dignified, walk.
The twenty-four hours was up.
Mary Ann had reluctantly returned to the cave upon completion of her part of the plan to find a weepy Mrs. Howell, an irate Mr. Howell, and an uncharacteristically tender Ginger, who grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug. The three women clung to each other as they waited out the remainder of the hunt, shrieking and gripping each other tighter at each gunshot that echoed across the island. They stared at Ginger's watch, telepathically willing the minute hand forward, as Mr. Howell paced restlessly in the background.
Occasionally they could make out the sounds of leaves rustling and branches breaking as Kincaid pursued Gilligan. Once there was a splash and a chorus of yells, indicating that the Skipper and the Professor had found them. And then silence.
Fifteen minutes after Gilligan left their clearing, Mary Ann was deliberately ambling through the jungle, staying out in the open and calculatingly making more noise than normal. Eventually, she sensed someone behind her.
"Hey!" Mary Ann didn't stop and she heard Kincaid pick up his pace behind her. "Mary Ann!" She turned and saw the hunter struggling towards her, fighting exhaustion, his face twisted in a livid scowl. "Where's your boyfriend?"
Mary Ann shrugged. "In Kansas."
"Don't play with me!" Kincaid spat. "You know who I mean!"
Mary Ann shook her head. "I haven't seen him."
"Of course you have! Why else would you be out here alone?" Kincaid suddenly grinned wickedly, eyebrows raised in amusement. "Came out to boost his spirits with a little afternoon delight?" He raised his rifle and she stumbled back a few steps. "Where are you hiding him?"
Mary Ann's features hardened in anger and she steeled her backbone, planting her hands on her hips. "I'm not afraid of you. You said shooting me would be like shooting the Easter Bunny."
Kincaid's eyes narrowed and he took a step towards her, but Mary Ann held her ground. "I have a newfound respect for Mr. Fudd," he growled and Mary Ann gasped as she felt the barrel of his rifle press into her abdomen.
By the look in his eyes, Mary Ann knew that Kincaid's inability to capture what he thought was easy prey was making him furious. All of her instincts told her not to give Gilligan up, but she had to remind herself that that was the plan. The plan had not, however, taken into consideration Kincaid's slow descent into island madness. He took another step towards her, the gun pushing her back until she collided with a palm tree.
Up on a small plateau nearly a quarter of a mile away, Gilligan peered from a dense thicket of plants and flowers, studying the scene playing out in the valley below. While he couldn't hear anything, he watched Mary Ann shrug coyly and Kincaid slowly lose his mind. Although the latter wasn't part of the original plan, Gilligan couldn't help but be amused at his effect on the skilled and poised marksman. That is, of course, until Gilligan saw him draw his weapon and advance on Mary Ann, pinning her to a palm tree with his rifle.
Gilligan reflexively stepped into the open and had to grab a nearby tree trunk to stop himself from barreling into the valley. "Come on, Mary Ann," he muttered impatiently.
Gilligan was just about to alter the plan and cry out to Kincaid himself when Mary Ann finally twisted around to look over her shoulder, pointing a shaky finger towards the plateau.
Kincaid's gaze rose to the plateau and an eager grin spread across his face. "Good girl." Kincaid pat Mary Ann roughly on the cheek and shouldered his rifle, her hands immediately landing on the bruised spot on her belly.
Kincaid tipped his hat politely at her and began towards the plateau when Mary Ann finally found her voice and stepped from the palm tree. "Be careful, Mr. Kincaid. There might be lions."
The hunter froze and turned back to her, head cocked inquisitively to one side. He watched her for a moment before realization dawned on him. The laugh started small, but soon was booming through the jungle, scaring animals from their dens and the castaways at the cave out of their wits. Kincaid pointed a wagging finger at Mary Ann. "Cute. Very cute."
Still chuckling, he began approaching the plateau again, waving cordially at the tiny red figure still standing out in the open. Gilligan flashed Mary Ann a grin before diving headfirst into the thicket and Kincaid picked up his pace across the valley.
Mary Ann couldn't move as she watched Kincaid reach the plateau and begin the laborious and ungainly climb. He plunged into the dense foliage at the top and Mary Ann held her breath. There was silence for a few moments until such a cacophony of noise erupted that Mary Ann had to clamp her hands over her ears.
First Kincaid screamed, then began yelling so incomprehensibly and intensely that Mary Ann almost believed for a moment that he very well may have encountered lions and not merely: "SNAKES!" That one clear word echoed through the valley. Mary Ann smiled at the thought of Jonathan Kincaid, word-famous hunter, being so irrationally afraid of snakes. It was a nice unexpected bonus to their plan that merely meant to startle him and slow him down.
"Why did it have to be snakes?"
Chaotic gunshots began ringing from the plateau and Mary Ann tightened her hands over her ears. She had to believe that Gilligan was out the other side of the grove and well on his way to his next hiding place as Kincaid shot haphazardly into the snakes' habitat. Birds rose from the canopy, screeching in protest as the hunter continued his unintelligible tirade against the reptiles.
She tore through the jungle now, running on a diluted concoction of fear, hope, and dread. They hadn't been able to hear anything else between the splash and subsequent yelling and the end of the hunt. There were no more sounds of pursuit through the jungle, no more voices, and no more gunshots. Now, however, there was the spectacular noise of Kincaid's helicopter rising from the beach, the rotating blades sending waves of wind across the island, ripping palm fronds from their trees and whipping Mary Ann's hair as she ran.
She skidded into the clearing to find the Skipper and the Professor huddled over a felled tree. They looked up as she stopped at the treeline, her eyes scanning the area for the first mate. "Where's –?" she began with dismay before she saw him crawling out of the hollow tree. "Gilligan!"
He barely had time to sit up in the sand before Mary Ann tackled him, nearly knocking him over backwards. Gilligan gasped for breath as Mary Ann hugged him tightly, talking so fast and kissing him on the cheek so much that he could barely make out anything she was saying. "Oh, Gilligan! It worked!" Mary Ann pulled back and took his face in her hands, beaming at him. "I'm so happy you're alive!" she exclaimed and kissed him firmly on the lips. "I knew you could do it!"
She threw her arms around him again as Ginger and the Howells emerged from the jungle. "Ooh, Gilligan!" Ginger squealed, "You're okay!" She dropped to her knees beside Mary Ann and began covering his other cheek with kisses.
Mr. Howell managed to clap Gilligan on the back and shake his hand between the two girls, offering him a heartfelt, "Good show, my boy," before his wife unceremoniously pushed him aside and descended on the young man as well.
"Oh, my dear, you're simply marvelous!"
"You're so brave, Gilligan!"
"I love you!"
"Thank goodness it's over!"
"We're so glad you're all right!"
Mr. Howell approached the Skipper and the Professor and threw an affable arm around each of their shoulders. "Gentlemen, if almost getting killed is all it takes to get this kind of reception from the ladies, I say we all take turns jumping in the quicksand."
The men laughed and exchanged warm handshakes, relieved and thrilled that their little family was still intact. A little worse for wear, perhaps, but intact nonetheless.
"Gilligan," the Professor began as he stepped forward, "what was all that commotion on the plateau? How did you buy yourself so much time?"
"Yeah, Little Buddy. What was Kincaid shooting at?"
Ginger and Mrs. Howell sat back in curiosity as Gilligan and Mary Ann shared a sly smile. "Lions."