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RED SOX: July and in first place; we gotta believe...
WARNING: This is going to be a rough ride. Here’s the list of probable causes; lying, stealing, cheating, drinking, drugs, straight sex, gay sex, lesbian sex, group sex but no fuzzy animals will be harmed for the sake of a story, fornication, common night walking, heresy, bigotry, more phobias than a psych major can catalog, treason, nationalism, isolationism, raised voices, angry words, hurtful looks, preconceived notions, foul language, violence, murder, rape, rampant impure thoughts, bondage, S & M, B & D, P’s and Q’s but never Y, sodomy, explosions, ridiculous geographical explanations, impossible science, mob rule, religious zealots, ruthless business decisions, anarchists..., let’s just say that this story is...,
by Phair
Kendall entered the yacht’s luxurious main lounge more tired than she had ever felt in her life. The hours since agreeing to help Beckworth were spent traveling on almost every mode of transportation possible; limousine, private jet, helicopter, jet ski, and superyacht.
“Money certainly has its privileges,” Kendall sighed as she dropped into a nearby sofa.
She sank into the soft cotton fabric. Her body surrendered to the comfort. Her exhausted eyes closed and winced several tears to ease the dry overtired lens.
“Can I get you anything?” The familiar voice interrupted her near slumber.
“Just some peace and quiet.”
“Sorry,” Beckworth sounded truly remorseful.
Kendall snapped back, “You should be. This is all your fault, you know? If you had listened to me…,”
“…none of this would have happened! Ya, ya, ya. You’re right. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’m haunted by my mistakes?” Beckworth pleaded for understanding.
“Greed is more like it!” Kendall hissed as she sat bolt upright to confront the man.
Beckworth seemed to shrink back a step or two before he answered, “Greed, then. If that’s how you want to see it.”
“That’s how it is, Jay! You and Mommy were only worried about making money,” Kendall stated.
“Yes, I wanted to make money and cut expenses. I wanted a huge profit. It’s true. So, I willing believed the least expensive plan for exploring and settling the island. I didn’t worry about Drapper or the children or anybody I sent to there. Does it help to hear that? Does it make you feel better hearing me admit that I’m a prick?”
“Yeah, it does,” Kendall answered in a solemn voice. “Confession is good for the soul, Jay.”
“Then I confess,” he mumbled as he sat heavily on the far side of the sofa. “I took short cuts with other people’s lives. I sent children into an unsecured environment. I was reckless.”
“And what, just exactly, has your recklessness left me with? First you said there was no trace of the settlement. Then you sobbed you saw burnt out homes. No bodies, just homes. Which is it? A destroyed settlement or a vanished settlement?” Kendall asked.
Beckworth scrubbed his face and shrugged, “Both, neither? I don’t know. The original site is overgrown with vegetation. However, it shows signs of scorched and burned out structures. No human remains were visible from above. More importantly, there are no trails through the forest to a new settlement. I’d expect at least one survivor from the two thousand people we sent there originally to have survived and set up camp someplace else.”
“Originally?” Kendall questioned.
“During the first six months things were going well so we sent another five hundred settlers with the supply boat.”
“Jesus! You hadn’t even had the first hurricane season. Never mind a winter. What the fuck were you thinking?” Kendall was furious. “Did you do anything to match the groups up with psychosocial issues?”
“NO! No, no. I know! It was stupid! Okay. Can we get past that part and get to the rescue? Kendall, I’m ready to suffer whatever penalty I need to over this.” Beckworth swallowed hard, “If I need to do time in prison then I’ll do it. If it costs my company millions, so be it. I won’t let these people down. I can’t leave them on their own any longer.”
“Don’t expect me to call you a hero, Jay. You made all the wrong choices and now somebody else is suffering because of them,” Kendall condemned him with the statement.
“That’s true but I will never regret keeping you off that island two years ago.”
Kendall stared at the man and saw his steadfast resolve. Her anger exploded in a tirade, “Fuck you, Jay! It was not your decision to make! And, it sure as Hell wasn’t your mother’s either. It was my choice and you stole it from me.”
“You’re wrong,” Beckworth stated simply. “As the board’s chairs for Beckworth Industries my mother and I had the final say on who went to the island.”
“Bullshit! Mommy said no and you went along with her,” Kendall cursed and crossed the room to the bar.
Beckworth shook his head, “Mom did say no but even if she agreed to you going, I would have stopped you. There was no way I would let you leave like that. Kendall, for God’s sake, you had just lost our baby. Our little girl was gone. How could I let you commit to two years on a deserted island? We were half crazed! Nobody, including you, was thinking clearly. We needed to stay together and work it out.”
“There was nothing to work out. Some pregnancies go to term and some don’t. It’s the luck to the genes and nothing more. No amount of talking and counseling will change the fact that the fetus died.”
“Fetus? Jesus Christ, Kendall, she was our baby. We held her as she died. How can you dismiss her like that?”
Kendall took a deep breath as she poured herself a scotch, “Because she couldn’t survive. It was a mistake to think you and I could produce something of lasting value, Jay. We were kidding ourselves.”
Beckworth flinched at the remarks.
“Want a drink?” Kendall offered.
“No, thank you. We have a big day tomorrow. I think I need all the rest I can get.” Beckworth hedged a moment as he watched Kendall gulp down the dark liquid. “If you want to ‘not talk about it’ with me tonight then I’ll be in the master cabin.”
“Couple more of these and I might take you up on that offer, Beckworth,” Kendall winked and poured another drink.
She was running. She was running faster than she ever dreamed she could. Her bare feet slapped against the wet sand in a frantic pace. The sun would be up soon. She needed to get to shelter before the first rays of dawn betrayed her foot prints; betrayed her existence. With an effortful leap, she jumped from the fallen bit of driftwood she dragged to shore earlier in the evening to an overhanging branch. She shimmied her way toward the trunk and reached for another extended branch. She climbed and crawled higher into the trees until she reached a relatively safe perch. Here she stopped long enough to consume the small, raw fish she caught under the moon light. It was horrible; wet, cold, and still squirming. But, she ate it anyway. She needed to eat to live. She needed to stay alive a little longer.
“How much longer?” She muttered and startled herself with her own voice.
A bright orange flare over the gaping sea answered her question.
“Not much longer now.”
