Stripes of Gehenna Page 5

  Alec extended a hand the size of a dinner plate and shook my hand, not any too gently. "Nice to meet ya. Again. It's been a while. Your dad’s been talking about you a lot."

  I nodded, uncomfortable with the lie. But things starting making sense. Richy took me to get ice cream under the same pretense of being my father. That explained why he’d called me ‘honey’ and why he’d referred to my mother as "her mother." This charade had been in the making for several months. But why?

  Trying not to stare at the sweat dripping off Alec’s cleanly shaven scalp, I farced my attention drawn away by the bugs that were trying to suck my blood dry.

  "Repellant," my uncle commanded, and the driver, while guiding the boat across the blue water, opened a bag and handed a tube of insect repelling sunscreen over to me.

  I twisted the cap off and smothered my arms, legs, neck and around my eyes in the thick lather. Conscious of my appearance, I spent the next few minutes rubbing it in and hoping it was soaked in on my face. I would have been embarrassed to walk around with white marks smeared on my cheeks and forehead. Though the sunscreen left me greasy, it was a small cost for the relief.

  "Thanks," I said. But the word was underrated in the situation. The mosquitoes left me alone, and I was once again able to enjoy the beauty around me. The driver didn’t reply at all to my appreciation. He didn't even turn around enough for me to see the side of his face.

  "Thanks," I sighed out, repeating myself to try and emphasize the gratitude I was feeling inside. I was also unsure of how much English he spoke. I was trying to be considerate to him. He still didn’t turn back so maybe he didn’t know I was talking to him.

  I got very hot sitting in the boat as the water refracted the rays directly onto my pale-ish skin. I knew that even with the sunscreen on, I was going to get a nice tan, and I went to take my shoes off to avoid a weird line on my feet.

  "How long is this ride going to take?" I asked, anxiously. I stretched my achy legs.

  This constant travel exhausted me emotionally and somehow, physically. If we traveled much longer and I didn’t get a chance to stretch, I’d worry about blood clots.

  It felt like we had been traveling for days. I think we had been.

  "You should rest." Richy didn’t seem tired at all. Maybe his drug made him superhuman. He folded his enormous arms across his body and surveyed the disappearing coast as we headed out to open waters.

  He and Alec looked at each other, not speaking, glancing occasionally at me and occasionally at the driver. Eventually they shut their eyes, and although I had recently slept, my eyes became heavy in the heat and I too dozed off despite the jerking and rocking of the boat.

  ***

  "Kat," My uncle’s strong voice woke me as the boat pulled into the small bay on the island. My body was tired but my mind and imagination began running wild as I saw the enormous ferns, flowers, and palms that covered the island like a huge green Derby hat.

  The gentle lapping of water on the shore set a steady beat for the hum of the dragonflies, damselflies, cicadas, and bees that buzzed and flew in and out of my line of sight without giving me time to register them. Their song was only sporadically interrupted by the range of high and low croaking of frogs in the surrounding flora.

  In that moment, the island’s beauty overwhelmed me. Surely there couldn’t be words to describe such a sight. Then I thought back on the many vocabulary words I had memorized in preparation for the SAT. Words I had been certain I would never have found a use for were popping into my head. Resplendent; pulchritudinous; these could be used to describe the scene before my eyes.

  Taking Richy’s hand I stepped off, my feet getting wet in the warm, blue water. I would have liked to jump right in and explore the waters of the bay. My imagination swam like the fish I expected to be in there, multicolored, darting around coral ravines, mountains, spiked terrain and soft, grassy seaweed.

  "Welcome to my island!" Richy shouted, frightening some birds from their perches nearby. My heart thumped with delight, and I knew that however long I stared out at the water or the canopy, no amount of time here would be long enough.

  "It’s really yours?" What could that have cost? Perhaps he was exaggerating and he was renting a plot of land on a government-owned island, but then again, there were countless islands in Oceania. Many of the smaller ones were uninhabited. A government as poor as Papua New Guinea may have been grateful to sell or rent one of the hundreds of islands to a private organization.

  The little bit of research I had done on New Guinea revealed to me that the insects, reptiles and birds that habituated the island were innumerable. My lifelong dream of discovering a new species would never be more achievable than it would be here on this island.

  With my suitcase in hand, Richy walked up the beach following the driver of the boat and Alec. I noticed how deeply my uncle’s footprints imprinted into the sand and knew he had not previously been jesting concerning his weight. He and Alec were easy to follow with the massive trail they left in the sand.

  We walked on a narrow path through the trees in what I knew to be one of the most diverse ecosystems on the planet, and my neck began to ache with how frequently I turned it left and right, right and left again, to every creek, crack, and whistle. I wanted to see everything there was to see. My eyes thirsted for creatures and plants that they had never seen and I was drinking everything up.

  Behind me the sun began sinking towards the blue waters turning them into inky darkness, and I would have relished the opportunity to watch it go down and hear the night creatures come out. Online there had been heated debates over what is called a "Demon Flyer" by the people of Papua New Guinea. According to the reports, it’s essentially a nocturnal pterodactyl. As incredible as it would be to find something from pre-Columbian history like that, I harbored a lot of suspicion and agreed with some commenters that it was likely a drone or an urban legend. I hadn’t come to find out about urban legends though.

  Even though the Demon Flyer was probably not real, there were plenty of existent nocturnal animals that I would have liked to see and hear. Richy had no such plans and trudged onwards through the jungle until we were stopped, what seemed suddenly to me, by a heavy door.

  The boat driver stepped to the side as Alec pulled out a keycard and swiped it in two locations. I hadn’t imagined much of a need for a lock with no other islanders to steal or break in. On either side of the door rose a huge iron or steel fence with rails as thick as my arms and too close together for me to slip through. I could see that behind the fence for about 50 yards the tall trees had been cleared, leaving only ground cover and shrubbery. The sun kept falling though, and my eyes weren’t adjusting to the darkness fast enough.

  We stepped through the door, Alec, the driver, me, and then Richy. The door shut behind us with a heavy thud and we ascended some stairs to a well-lit and well-decorated lobby.

  "I had this place done up nicely so I could feel at home. After all, it’s my home for now." Richy beamed as he showed me the enormous picture of him and his opal white and soot black tigers as cubs. He held one in each arm as though they were stuffed toys, but the deep scratch on his arm that they had failed to photoshop out indicated otherwise.

  Alec and the boat driver walked around the hallway leaving me with Richy in the entryway.

  "So, what’s the plan for the night?" I was eager to meet the tigers, but I assumed that would have to wait until morning.

  "I’ll show you your room, which you are gonna just love, then you can wash up, and then we can get some dinner. The cooks were all personally picked by me so you know they gotta be pretty great!"

  My assumption was correct. The tigers would wait until tomorrow. Richy seemed to have read my thoughts because he added in, "And first thing tomorrow I’ll show you the tigers. We can feed them breakfast and maybe you can pet one of ‘em!"

  "Sounds great," I said, following him down the rounded hall. Given the scratches on Richy’s arm in the picture, the idea of
petting a tiger lost some appeal, but if the tigers were now his tame pets, then it would be amazing to get close enough to pet one.

  The building must have been circular in shape because on my right was an all glass wall that exposed the outside, but now it was too dark to see anything. On my left were doors labeled with numbers and walls decorated with pictures of tigers at various stages of life, drawings of tigers, and wall hangings of tigers. It was safe to say that the man was obsessed with his tigers.

  It reminded me of the families that took family pictures with their dogs and called their dogs children and dressed their dogs, only these weren’t dogs. They were cats—enormous felines and dangerous predators. Though perhaps because they had been with Richy their whole lives, they were not so wild. Too many questions to voice at once and I didn’t want to risk asking silly questions that would be answered by mere observation and patience.

  We reached a door labeled Keep Out- 12. Richy pulled his wallet from his back pocket and showed me his keycard. On the left side was picture of his smiling face. On the right were the words Richard Speer. All Access. Richy scanned the card like we were in some fancy hotel, and then swung the door open while humming. Another hallway led to more doors that required his keycard. These were unlabeled until we got to one which surprisingly read in golden cursive "Welcome Kat!"

  Richy unlocked the door and threw it open. I walked inside, coconut scented candles were the first thing I noticed. To my right was a small bathroom with blue paisley rugs and matching towels. A small shower was hiding behind the toilet and sink. Walking in a little farther I sighed at the sight of a queen size bed, down comforter, four pillows, and a light blue six-drawer dresser. Atop the dresser was another key card and the face on it surprised me. It was my own. On the side it said Kat Speer. All Access. I lifted it and turned to Richy.

  "Is this what you expected?" Richy laughed, turning on the gourd lamp at my bedside.

  "No," I confessed. "I’d imagined a hammock, a small closet sized room, bedbugs and certainly no plumbing or electricity." I turned around in the room, looking again at the walls. There hung a poor remake of the Mona Lisa, some nature scenes, and of course, a large painting of a tiger crouching in some underbrush. I’d imagined Panama all over again. The lizards. The island air. Shardul’s casual physical contact.

  "Well, I can’t make any promises about the bed bugs, but I had to get you a wonderful set-up here. You deserve the best, Kat!" The room was lovely, the candles smelled amazing, and I knew I would be extremely comfortable here. Truly the only thing that made me uncomfortable was him calling me Kat. But after all the kindnesses he was showing me, I thought that now was a bad time to tell him.

  "It's great. I can tell this must've been a lot of work. What is this room usually used for?" I couldn’t imagine that everyone working here had the same housing situation.

  "It used to just be a big storage closet. All this stuff wasn’t here before. We ordered it all for you!" Richy placed his arms around me, and I could tell he was exerting an effort to be gentle. "I’m so glad to have you here and get this time with you. I knew your mom would oppose it, but I think that it’s real important for family to get some time together."

  The hug should have been awkward because he had so rarely touched me in my life, but it was a safe embrace and he seemed genuinely happy to have me there. All the work that he put into it didn’t make sense to me, but I didn’t know him that well. Maybe all along he had been hoping to spend some time with me. I was probably the only family he had that didn’t look down on him for his drug use or history.

  My mother’s caveat came to mind, "Don’t trust him," and though I tried to push it out of my thoughts, it stuck like cement.

  "I’m glad to be here." He let me go and I looked to the shower again. "I’ll just wash up and then I’ll be more than ready for dinner." I suppressed a yawn and he winked at me.

  "Should I be back in half an hour?"

  "Perfect."

  "Oh," he said, pointing to the keycard with my picture. "That’s your keycard. Keep a close eye on it. An all-access pass is hard to come by around here."

  With that, he left and I relaxed, alone and happy in an entirely new part of the world.

  Because of my low expectations for my living situation, I hadn't thought to bring a razor or shaving cream, but shampoo, conditioner and soap were in supply and complaining about something so trivial would surely be offensive. The shower felt amazing after the travel and humidity and clean clothes had never felt so clean. I tossed the dirty ones in a basket in the corner, threw my long curly hair into a messy bun, and stretched my legs while I waited for Richy.

  It had to have been about thirty minutes later when I heard the heavy knock on the door and Richy’s happy humming.

  "Dinnertime!" he shouted, and I followed him out of the room. "Always lock your door behind ya," he directed and without question, I did.

  We wound around the hall, the dark glass to my left. Ahead I heard lots of voices. Richy opened the double doors dramatically, and the talking quieted as the eyes of almost everyone turned to us.

  Not everyone in the room was as massive as my uncle Richy, but a few of them were and some even bigger. Big muscles, big faces, big hands and feet—all effects of high levels of human growth hormone. They all wore the same matching lab coat with GH10: Bottled Human Potential embroidered in black thread above the right pocket.

  The first time I was old enough to understand that Richy worked with human growth hormone, I’d researched the side effects. I knew well enough not to stare and turned my eyes down to the floor instead, succumbing to my timid side.

  "Everyone, this is my daughter Kat. It’s been a long few days and I want everyone to give her a warm welcome and show her around the place while she’s here."

  Having introduced me as Kat meant I had a long week ahead of me. I had a choice to make then; I could either tell him that I preferred to go by Kathryn and have him re-announce my name, or suck up my trivial emotions and become Kat just for this week. I chose to become complaisant since if he was really my father, he would, without doubt, know which name I favored.

  Richy marched in like he owned the place, which I suppose he did. Though I'd expected to go through a cafeteria line, some cooks brought the food to us and I began to wonder how Richy afforded this place, the tigers, the employees, the building, the art, the island. It no longer surprised me how willingly he’d written me the check for my trip to Panama.

  So far as I’d known, he wasn’t a billionaire. I had no idea where the funding came from. Maybe he’d been given a scientific grant for all this stuff. I don’t know how money works, I just know that we didn’t have enough to afford new backpacks.

  Apparently Richy didn’t share our financial struggles. The thoughts of drug dealing came to mind, not selling baggies in alleyways, but selling his high-end steroids to scrawny rich folk who wanted to become extraordinarily muscular in a short amount of time. I gulped and tried to push such judgmental thoughts away, but no other explanation came to mind.

  The homemade pot pie was a little salty, which I preferred to being under-seasoned. The rolls were obviously homemade and fresh out of the oven. The real butter melted across the top was sweet, and I was glad not to have any honey or jam on it. A small bowl of fresh and foreign fruits was placed in front of me as my dirty plate was cleared.

  "What are these?" I asked, probably eating a bit too quickly than was appropriate.

  "Let’s see," Richy waved over the man who placed the food in front of me. "What’s this?"

  "Um, fruit," he said, clearly trying not to be offensive in his tone.

  "What kind?" Richy shook his head with impatience.

  "Guava, bukubuk, kapiak, carambola, and bullock’s heart in a pandanus sauce." He shrugged, seeming to know that his explanation was not so much of an explanation as a string of foreign words.

  "There ya have it!" Richy said, waving him off.

  "Well, whatever it is, it’s go
od and it’s fresh. I always miss fresh foods when I travel. Not that I’ve done a whole lot of it." I finished my bowl and then exhaustion hit me like a runaway train. Richy saw it in my eyes and my yawning and escorted me back to my room.

  I unlocked the door, got a hug goodnight, re-locked the door, and collapsed on my bed without bothering to change into pajamas or turn down the blankets.

  My night, though riddled with nightmares of huge men, huge tigers and strange food, at least gave me a chance for solitude. I didn’t love being completely alone, but it was far preferable to the alternative. My legs twitched from lack of exercise. In the morning, I'd ask him if I could go for a run on the beach.

  Chapter Seven: A “Job Opportunity”

  The next morning heavy, frantic pounding on my door woke me immediately, and I rolled off the bed before scrambling to see who it was.

  Richy stood there, smiling as though his knocking had been at normal level. His name tag now hung from a lanyard on his neck. The white coat was apparently uniform here. Would I get one too? Seeing how he startled me, he looked at my hair, his watch and then sighed out, "Um, do you want breakfast brought in this morning?"

  Reaching up, I batted down my frizzy hair uselessly. "Sure…yeah…"

  "Not a problem, I’ll have someone bring it by in a few minutes." He turned. "Oh, and good morning!"

  I used the few minutes between his visit and the next to water down my hair and pull it tightly into a bun where I hoped it would stay for the remainder of the day.

  Intense pounding at my door again prompted me to think it was Richy, but when I opened the door, a new face on a large body was there and in the oversized extended hands was a tray with breakfast.