Even in the middle of the night, with the fire out, the beach wouldn't be dark enough to completely hide our activities. The sand was too pale, and too much light came from the moon and stars.
"We need to keep the fire going," Billie said. "It'll screw up his night vision."
"But if we don't put it out," Kimberly said, "he'll be able to see us in the firelight."
"Maybe we can figure a way to make that work for us," I suggested. "You know? Make him see what we want him to see. And while he's watching that, the rest of us might be sneaking to our positions."
Billie nodded. "Distract him."
"Right," I said. "If, say, one of us creates a diversion he can't take his eyes off of, the rest of us could do just about anything."
"What sort of diversion do you have in mind?" Connie asked. From the look on her face, she must've already suspected what I had in mind.
I shrugged and said, "I don't know. We could stage a fight, maybe."
Not what I really had in mind, but I would not be the one to suggest a striptease.
"A fight would take at least two people," Billie pointed out. That only leaves three to maneuver around and jump him."
"It's just the first thing that came into my head," I explained.
Right.
"Three could be enough," Kimberly pointed out. "I want to be one of them, that's all."
"Connie and Rupert," Billie said. She glanced at each of us, then met Kimberly's eyes. "They can have a quarrel during their watch tonight."
Typecasting.
Billie didn't stop there. "A real knock-down drag-out fight."
"A quiet one," Kimberly added. "They don't want to wake us up."
"Right. And while they're at it, we'll slip out of our beds and hide."
"Hide where?" Connie asked.
"You'll be out in the open, fighting with Rupert."
"I don't mean me. Where'll you go, where Wesley won't be able to see you? The rocks are too for away."
"We'll do some digging this afternoon," Kimberly said. "Make ourselves a hidey-hole or . . ."
"He'll think we're digging a latrine," Billie said.
"So," I said, "Connie and I get his attention by having a big fight. You guys sneak over to your ambush positions. But how do we get Wesley to come out of the jungle?"
"You and Connie split up," Billie suggested.
"She runs off," Kimberly elaborated.
These two women made quite a team.
"She runs to the water to get away from you," Kimberly continued.
"Leaving you alone and upset by the fire," Billie added.
"We should have him walk toward the jungle," Kimberly said to Billie.
"Right. After all, he's the one Wesley probably really wants to kill next."
"Let's not make it too easy for him," I suggested.
"Don't worry," Kimberly told me. "We'll be right there, just out of sight. When he comes for you, we attack."
"What if he's got that ax?"
"He won't get a chance to use it," Kimberly said.
"We'll kill him before he gets close enough," Billie said.
Connie raised her hand. She had a bit of a smirk on her face.
Our plotting sure had pulled these gals out of the doldrums. They were acting as if they'd forgotten all about Keith and Andrew being dead. Apparently, scheming vengeance is a great cure for the blues.
Anyway, Connie had a little problem with our plan. "What makes you so sure Wesley's gonna be in the jungle while all this is going on? I mean, I'm supposed to go running down to the water, right? Just suppose that's where he is? And there I am, all by myself, while you guys are waiting for him all hell and gone over here."
Billie grimaced. "You're right."
"Why does she have to leave the fire?" I asked.
"So you'll be alone," Kimberly said.
"I'll be alone, anyway, when I walk to the jungle."
"Connie can't be watching," Kimberly explained, "or Wesley won't make a try for you. He'll be afraid she might see what's going on and raise the alarm."
"He'll be thinking the rest of us are asleep in our usual places," Billie said. "If Connie yells and wakes us up, we might come running to help you. He doesn't want that."
"He has to think he's got you alone," Kimberly added.
Connie started up again. "If you think I'm gonna go running off by myself . . ."
"Wesley'll probably be in the jungle," Kimberly said.
"Like last night when he took off with the dinghy?"
"I know how we can do it," I said, meeting Connie's frown. "We're having our big fight by the fire, okay? Now, suppose I really land one, and knock you out?"
"Oh, terrific," she said.
"It's pretend," I told her. "I wouldn't actually hit you, but you'd go down and stay down. Like you're unconscious. That way, you'll be safe and sound by the fire, in plenty of light and not very far from help. But you'll be out of the picture, as far as Wesley knows."
"Sounds good to me," Billie said.
"Yeah," said Kimberly. "I don't see any problem with that."
Connie wrinkled her nose. "I don't know," she muttered.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"It seems . . . kind of corny."
"Corny?" I asked. "This guy killed your father."
Wrong thing to say.
"You think I don't know that? Fuck you!" She flung a handful of sand at me.
At least it wasn't a spear, this time.
I turned my head away, shutting my eyes and mouth. The grains of sand stung my cheek. They got in my ear, too.
"That's enough, Connie," Billie told her.
"He's such a creep!"
"Just calm down, honey. The thing is, we've got to do whatever we can -- whether it's corny or not. It isn't just that he killed your dad and Keith; he'll kill us all if we don't stop him."
"Maybe, maybe not."
I said, "Maybe everything'll turn out wonderful, and he'll stop after he nails my butt."
Connie glared at me. "Yeah, maybe so."
A smile actually lifted the comers of Kimberly's mouth. "You guys oughta be able to pull off a very convincing fight."
"Only why don't you save it for tonight?" Billie suggested.
Connie was sort of snarling. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered. Then she turned her head and looked over at Thelma. "What about her?"
We had a brief discussion about that. The upshot was, we decided to keep the plot to ourselves. For one thing, Thelma wasn't in good enough physical shape to be much help in eliminating Wesley. For another, she's his wife. She apparently loves him, even if he did chop her father's head in half.
After deciding to leave her in the dark, we figured out where to construct our ambush site.
The "latrine" would go about two-thirds of the distance from our campfire to the edge of the jungle, then off quite a way to the south of the stream that cuts down through the middle of the beach. (The route to be taken by Kimberly and Billie shouldn't cross the fire. Diversion or no diversion, we don't want them backlit as they sneak to their position.) For the next couple of hours, we dug in the sand with our hands, with our spears, and with cups and pots. Thelma wondered what we were doing. We explained that we were making a latrine so that we wouldn't have to risk our lives by going into the jungle. She seemed to think that was a good idea, and she even helped.
While digging, we came up with the idea of adding an enclosure. So we made a couple of frameworks out of branches, then went to the edge of the jungle and gathered foliage. When we were done, we had a double-sided stall with two walls about four feet high. They ran parallel to the edge of the jungle, so Wesley wouldn't be able to see in -- not if he was watching from the general area where we expected him to be.
The make-believe latrine should provide a great hiding place for Kimberly and Billie, if they could just get to it without being spotted.
A problem came up, though, a while after we finished. Thelma wanted to use it.
I had already started to write, but I was sitting within earshot. Kimberly intercepted her. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Well, what do you think?" Thelma said.
"That wouldn't be a good idea."