I said, "Well . . ."
"Anyway, that's all over and done with, now. The thing is, would you mind a whole lot if I just stayed here for a little while? I won't cause any trouble, I promise. I just can't go back there and lie down. All I do is toss and turn . . . it's just so miserable. Can I stay with you? Please?"
A. She had to be in a lot of physical discomfort. She wasn't lying about that.
B. What could she do to me? Her hands were tied and I had the ax.
C. I could always shout if she tried to pull a stunt.
D. I was still curious. Did she have some sort of secret reason for coming over? Did she have a trick up her sleeve? Just exactly what would happen if I let her stay? Maybe something interesting, or even exciting.
Not to mention that I really wanted to ask her about a few things.
"Okay," I said. "You can stay, but just for a while."
"Thanks, Rupert." She sounded sincere. "You're sure a life-saver."
"One condition, though," I told her.
Some of her friendliness suddenly evaporated. "What's that?"
"You have to answer me, no matter what I ask you."
She blew out some air. "Oh, forget it. I thought you were different from them. You're just like them, aren't you? For once, I thought somebody was being nice to me around here."
"All I want to do is find out a few things. What's the big deal?"
She took a deep breath and used it to form a long, annoyed sigh. "Everybody wants to give me the third degree."
"Maybe you'd better just go back to bed," I said.
"No, no, no. I'll talk. Whatever you want. Lord knows, why should you be any different from the bitches? What do you want to know?"
"Let's sit down," I said.
I went back to my place at the other side of the fire, sat down, crossed my legs and rested the ax across my thighs. I told Thelma where to sit: in front of me but over to my left, facing the fire. That way, we didn't have the fire between us. Also, it would be easy to give her a nudge with the head of the ax, if she caused trouble.
"For starters," I said, "did Wesley tell you why he did all this?"
"Did what?"
"Blew up the boat, marooned us here, killed . . ."
"He didn't blow up the boat. I asked him all about that. What happened is, he smelled gas and jumped overboard just in the nick of time. He was almost killed. He no sooner got off the boat than it blew sky-high."
"That's what he told you?"
"Yes."
"And you believed him?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
I could only think of about a million reasons. "If that's what happened," I said, "then how come he didn't swim in to the beach? We were all there. He knew we were there. He obviously wanted us to think he'd been blown up."
"Well, that was the whole idea."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"He had to disappear. He was afraid he'd get all the blame for the explosion. Which is just what happened. You heard my dad. It was all Wesley's fault."
"And that's why Wesley pulled his vanishing act?"
"Sure. Lord only knows what you all would've done to him."
"Yeah, Lord only knows -- somebody might've called him an idiot."
"You don't know anything."
"Was he afraid Andrew might make him walk the plank? Or keel-haul him? Whip out the cat-o"-nine-tails?"
"There's no telling."
"Nobody would've done anything to him, not for having an accident."
"You haven't got a clue. You have no idea how cruel Dad could be. How vicious. If you knew half the things he's done . . . what he used to do to me . . . and to Kimberly, too." She shook her head.
I suddenly found myself very interested.
"Like what sort of things?" I asked.
"Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is, having your hands tied like this?" She held them toward me. "Kimberly made the rope too tight."
Before turning in for the night, Kimberly had freed Thelma's hands for a visit to the latrine -- then had retied them.
"You knew the right way to do it," Thelma told me. "When you tied me, the rope didn't cut in this way. Kimberly did this to hurt me."
"No, she didn't."
"Look. Just look, why don't you?"
I leaned toward her and checked. The rope did appear to be awfully tight. It was making grooves in her wrists.
"Can you make it looser for me? Please?"
"I don't know. Maybe Kimberly had a reason . . ."
"She had one, okay. She just loves to hurt me. It turns her on."
"Sure," I muttered.
"If you make it looser," she said, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
Naturally, I was suspicious of her motives. I couldn't get around the fact, though, that the rope was digging into her wrists.
"I'll redo it," I told her. "But you'd better not try anything."
"I won't. I promise."
I put the ax out of reach behind me, then moved in close to Thelma on my knees and picked open the knot. When the knot came apart, I began to unwrap the rope from around her wrists.
She suddenly pulled her hands free.
I was left holding empty loops of rope.
Before I could do anything, she swung both her arms around behind her back and started shaking her head. "Please. I'm not doing anything. Don't tie me up again, okay? Please? Give me a break. I can't stand having them tied. Just give me a few minutes, okay? Please?"
"No. Come on, you promised." I glanced over at the sleeping area. The gals were still down, thank God. I faced Thelma. "You'll get me in all kinds of trouble."
"They don't have to find out. I won't tell them if you don't."
"Damn it." Dropping the rope, I leaned forward on my knees and reached out and grabbed Thelma's upper arms. They were thick, but not flabby. They felt strong. Squeezing them, I tried to pull her arms out from behind her.
She struggled not to let me. After a few seconds, though, she said, "Stop it or I'll scream."
I let go fast.
It took a while to catch my breath. Then I said, "Come on. If somebody wakes up and your hands aren't tied . . ."
"You'll get in more trouble than me."
"We'll both be in trouble. Come on."
"I'll make you a deal," she said.
I picked up the rope. "Like what?"
"Just let me stay untied for a while, okay? Just while we sit here and talk, and then -- I'll let you tie them up again, I promise."
"Somebody might wake up. And besides, you tricked me. You took advantage of me trying to do you a favor. So just give me your hands."
She shook her head, and kept them behind her back.
"Come on," I said. "Please. I'll make it really loose."
"I thought you wanted to ask me a lot of stuff about Wesley. And about Kimberly? Don't you wanta know about how Dad used to abuse her?"
"He abused her?"
"He used to do all sorts of things to her. To both of us."
"Really?" I glanced over at the sleeping area. So far, so good.
"You're so worried, well just pretend I'm tied." Thelma offered her hands. I wrapped the rope around them a few times to make it look good, but left it loose and unknotted. "There," Thelma said. "Now you're covered if anyone comes snooping."
"Just don't try anything," I warned her. Then I went back to where I'd been sitting, sat down and put the ax across my thighs. "What did he do to her?" I asked.
"To both of us," Thelma said.
"Okay."
Family Ties
"It's . . . awful nasty. Sick. Are you sure you want to hear about it?"
I nodded. Already, I was feeling a little shaky inside with a mixture of dread and excitement.
"Well, okay then. You asked for it. Don't blame me if you don't like what I have to tell you."
"I won't. I promise. Come on."
"One thing was, he used to make us strip naked and then wrestle on the floor. We'd all be naked. Me, Kimberly and Dad." She spoke in a quick, hushed voice, as if she were sharing a very juicy bit of gossip. "He'd start off by making just me and Kimberly go at it, while he watched from the side and . . . like cheered us on, gave us orders. He'd try to get us to hurt each other. And do perverted things. Then, after a while, he'd join in."