Atonement

Chapter 7 of Vampire Island

No one had much appetite next morning. They made do with fruit as the hour neared noon. The later the natives returned, the better, because the castaways could hide until Emmy was able to rise. It was a gloomy outlook. Everything rested with the chief. Had he been scared straight? Or was he looking for revenge? Gilligan had warned him that Emmy could easily visit the same upon him. The chief must also know that Emmy could find another place to shelter, now that he had seen the cave.

The professor kept watch with binoculars, crowded about by the others, with Gilligan ready to rush to Emmy's aid. "There they are," he said. "I count three boats, and I don't see spears or hear any war drums." He turned to address them. "Let's get back to the compound and take defensive positions just in case. I'm sure they're only coming for their dead."

The dead had been arranged in a row, their heads covered with palm fronds. The first party to come ashore was a group of women bearing covered platters. Gilligan caught a whiff of food. "I think we're gonna be okay. They don't feed you and then kill you."

Everyone came out to watch as the women placed reed platters on the table, then bowed their way back toward shore. Solemn-faced men rolled the dead in mats, carried them back for whatever rite awaited them. One of them came forward with a note, presented with a formal bow. Then they were gone.

The skipper uncovered the offering. "That's the first meat I've seen in ages! And rice—actual rice!" He couldn't resist picking at it.

"Be patient, Skipper." Mary Ann rushed to get plates set out as they all gathered around.

Mr Howell took a seat. "What do they have to say, Professor?"

"Apparently they think we're gods who control a powerful spirit. They want to appease the spirit with this offering. The chief has sent word to an island to the north of his. He says to expect a visitor tomorrow." That brought cheers all around.

"Ooh!" Mrs Howell plucked a candied fig. "It's been ages since I've seen a fig!"

Howell patted her hand. "Yes, my dear, and it's a good thing those folks brought all this bounty. We really chowed down yesterday, and used up most of our stores." He cast eyes upward. "What I wouldn't give for an aperitif."

Ginger accepted a platter from the skipper, who served as host and identified the meat as boar. "What will we tell Emmy tonight? She's just dying . . . uh, itching to get home."

"She'll be okay," Gilligan assured them. "She's waited centuries, after all." He passed a bowl of peaches latticed with molasses to Mary Ann. "It sure would help if you ladies could get past what happened. She's been treated like a circus act ever since Mr D threw her over."

"Gilligan," Mrs Howell said with a disparaging little wave, "that's not a nice way to put it."

The skipper set down his wood fork. "What I don't get is how anyone can get here by tomorrow, especially from Hawaii."

"I've been pondering that," the professor said. "That northern island is much closer to Hawaii. They may even have phone service or a radio, with regular supply runs."

"Can you beat that?" Mary Ann spread hands. "All these years, and that chief knew we came here from Hawaii."

The professor re-read the note. "I'm guessing they'll honor our request not to send the Coast Guard. We must get Mr Howell to a phone, so he can make arrangements for Emmy's transport."

The rest of the day passed in desultory fashion. It was hard to get motivated for chores with rescue so close at hand. There was enough of the feast to see them through lunch, and dinner wasn't hard to scrape together with a little fishing. At sundown, the professor was honored with the last of the coffee. No one had much to say while awaiting Emmy.

She chose to walk into camp, and the girls had her take the head seat on their end. Ginger explained to her the contents of the note. "Emmy, we may never see you again after tonight. Can I see the bear for a minute?" Emmy had no problem with it. Ginger held it under the arms and made it do a comic little walk. The strategy worked, and Emmy smiled a fangy smile at the performance. "Okay, I lived long enough to see that."

"She needs some dental work," Mrs Howell decided.

"Well," Mary Ann said, "I hope we don't get in trouble over those . . . bodies."

Ginger was drumming fingers. "Who's going to believe those natives?"

"Who's going to believe us," Mrs Howell added.

"I wouldn't worry." Mary Ann toyed with a strand of hair. "They'll just think we're stir crazy after being here all this time."

When Emmy took Mrs Howell's hand, the older woman snatched it away.

"Wait, Mrs Howell," Ginger said. "I think she's curious about the nail polish."

Mrs Howell offered the hand back to Emmy, who examined the fingers. "Oh. I thought she was going to . . ."

"Let's do this!" Mary Ann coaxed Emmy toward their hut. "Let's line up all the colors and let her pick one out!"

"That's a great idea!" Mrs Howell enthused. "I'll go get all of mine!"

Ginger hurried ahead. "I'll make sure the mirrors are all turned down."

At the men's end, Mr Howell said, "They haven't changed in a thousand years."

Presently, Emmy chose one of Mrs Howell's colors.

"Dark burgundy," Ginger said. "Makes sense, as that's the color of dried blood." She noticed Mrs Howell examining lipstick tubes. "We'd better forget about that. I wouldn't go anywhere near her mouth. Besides, she can't see how it looks on her."

Shortly, Emmy left for her hemoglobin fix. The Howells relaxed in their loungers, pre-occupied with what the morrow might bring. The skipper fantasized about steak, roast potatoes, and asparagus.

"Little Buddy," the skipper said, "I'll hold open that first mate position for when you get back." His smile faltered. "If you get back. I can't imagine going down into caverns haunted by the other three brides."

The professor had rolled down his sleeves against the evening chill. "Emmy will be pivotal there. But even she couldn't restrain the others, starved for as long as they have been. Mr Howell, I propose buying cages for three large rabbits."

Howell grimaced as hard as Gilligan. "For a little ghoulish treat, you mean. Well, better them than us."

"And on that note, gentlemen," the professor said, rising, "pleasant dreams."

The group rose early, having what was possibly their last breakfast here together. They were a little worried when lunchtime came and went. At length, Gilligan bounded up from the lagoon.

"It's a boat, it's a boat, it's a boat!"

The skipper corralled him. "Calm down, Gilligan. What kind of boat?"

"A motor launch! It's got radar, spotlight, antenna—everything!"

"Excellent," the professor said. "They should have a phone on board. How many people, Gilligan?"

"I only saw two."

The skipper huffed relief. "No police, it seems."

The girls hurried out in the commotion.

"That's right, girls," the skipper said, arms crossed proudly. "You and me are out of here as of right now!"