The Beach

'I don't see you passing it either.'

'Well said, Rich. A salient point.'

Mister Duck looked down at his wrists. Large black scabs had formed around his hands and lower arms. It seemed he'd finally stopped bleeding.

'I tell you, Rich,' he said. 'Getting these bastards to close up has been a nightmare… A total fucking nightmare, I'm not kidding.'

'How did you do it?'

'Well, I tied a cloth around the top of each arm, really tight, and that slowed the blood enough to let me clot. Clever, huh?'

'That's the boy…' I began, seeing my chance, but he interrupted me.

'All right, Rich. That'll do.' He rocked on his heels like a kid with some good news to tell. 'So, ah… do you want to know why I did it?'

'Healed the cuts?'

'Yes.'

'OK.'

Mister Duck smiled proudly. 'I did it because you wanted to shake me by the hand.'

I raised my eyebrows.

'Remember? You were walking back from the carved tree and you decided you wanted to shake me by the hand. So I said to myself, I'm not going to let Rich shake my hand if I'm bleeding all over the place! No fucking way!' He emphasized his words with a jabbing finger. 'Rich is going to get a clean hand to shake! A dry hand! The kind of hand he deserves!'

I wondered how to respond. Actually, I'd completely forgotten about shaking his hand, and wasn't even sure I still wanted to.

'Well…'

'Put it there, Rich!' A darkly stained palm shot out.

'I…'

'Come on, Rich! You wouldn't refuse to shake a guy's hand, would you?'

He was right. I never could turn down an extended hand, even from enemies. 'No. Of course not…' I replied, and added 'Daffy' as an afterthought.

I reached out.

His wrists exploded. They burst apart into two red fountains, spraying like high-pressure garden hoses, soaking me and blinding me, filling my mouth.

'Stop it!' I yelled, spitting and spinning away from the jets.

'I can't, Rich!'

'Just fucking stop it!'

'I…!'

'Jesus!'

'Wait…! Wait, wait… They're getting back to normal…'

The sound of the fountains dropped away to a steady splashing. Cautiously I looked around. Mister Duck was standing with his hands on his hips, still bleeding profusely, examining the mess and shaking his head.

'Christ,' he mumbled. 'How awkward.'

I stared at him incredulously.

'Really, Rich, I can't apologize enough.'

'You stupid bastard! You knew that was going to happen!'

'No… Well, yes, but…'

'You fucking planned it!'

'It was supposed to be a joke.'

'A jo—' I hesitated. The taste of iron and salt in my mouth was making me feel sick. 'Idiot!'

Mister Duck's shoulders slumped. 'I'm really sorry,' he said unhappily. 'Maybe it wasn't a very good joke… Perhaps I'd better go.' Then he walked past me and straight off the edge of the rock-shelf, but instead of falling the few feet down to the water, he simply hovered in mid-air.

'Could you just answer one thing, Rich?'

'What?' I snapped.

'Who are you planning to bring back?'

'Back from where?'

'The world. Aren't you and Jed…'

Mister Duck paused, suddenly frowning. Then he looked down at the empty space beneath him as if noticing it for the first time.

'Oh damn,' he groaned, and dropped like a stone.

I looked over the shelf. When the ripples cleared the water was clouded with blood and I couldn't make him out. I waited a while, to see if he'd resurface, but he never did.

THE RICE RUN

Jed

Jed wouldn't let me wake Etienne and Francoise. They'd asked me to say goodbye before I left, but Jed shook his head and said, 'Unnecessary.' I stood over their sleeping bodies, wondering what he meant. He'd woken me five minutes earlier by putting his hand over my mouth and whispering, 'Shh,' so close to my ear that his beard had brushed my cheek. I'd thought that had been pretty unnecessary myself.

I thought his knife was unnecessary too. It appeared as we stood on the beach, getting ready for the swim to the seaward cliffs, a green-handled lock-knife with a Teflon-coated blade.

'What's that for?' I asked.

'It's a tool,' he replied, matter of factly. Then he winked and added, 'Sinister, huh?' before wading into the water with the knife between his teeth.

Until the Rice Run, Jed was a mystery to me. The most time we'd ever spent together had been on my first day, when he'd escorted us from the waterfall. After that we'd had almost no contact. Sometimes I saw him in the evenings – never earlier, because he returned to the camp so late – and small talk had always been the extent of our conversations. Normally, small talk is enough for me to form an opinion on someone. I make quick judgements, often completely wrong, and then stick by them rigidly. But with Jed I'd made an exception and kept an open mind. This was mainly due to conflicting accounts of his character. Unhygienix liked him, and Keaty thought he was a prat.

'We were sitting on the beach,' Keaty had once said, his forehead creased up with irritation, 'and there was this noise from the jungle. A coconut falling off a tree or something. A crack. So Jed suddenly stiffened up and did this little glance over his shoulder, like he was some finely tuned commando. Like he couldn't help his own reflexes.'

I nodded. 'He wanted you to notice.'

'Exactly. He wanted us to notice how fucking alert he is.' Keaty laughed and shook his head, then launched into a familiar diatribe about how crap if was to work in the garden.

But Unhygienix liked Jed. Sometimes I'd needed the toilet late at night and found them still awake, sitting by the kitchen hut, getting stoned on grass nicked from the dope plantations. And if Unhygienix liked Jed, he couldn't be all bad.

There were three caves that led into the seaward cliffs. One was at the base of the jagged fissure, by the coral gardens, another was maybe two hundred metres to the right of the fissure, and the last was maybe fifty metres to the left. That was the one we swam for.

It was a good swim. The water was cool and cleared the morning haze out of my head. I spent most of the time underwater, watching fish scatter, wondering which ones might end up as today's lunch. It was strange that there were always so many fish in the lagoon. We must have been pulling out thirty a day, but the numbers never seemed to go down.

Dawn was breaking by the time we reached the cave. We couldn't see the sun yet – the east was blocked by the cliffs as they curved around to rejoin the island – but the sky was bright.

'You know this place?' Jed asked.

'I've seen it while I've been working.'

'But you've never been through.'

'No. I went up to the coral gardens once and saw the cave there… Beneath the fissure.'

'But you've never been through,' he repeated.

'No.'

He looked disapproving. 'You should have. Golden rule: first thing to do when you arrive some place is find out how you can get out again. These caves are the only ways out of the lagoon.'

I shrugged. 'Oh… So is that how you get above the waterfall?'

'See here.' He walked into the entrance of the cave and pointed directly upwards. Bizarrely, in the blackness, I could see a fist-sized circle of blue, and as my eyes adjusted to the light I made out a rope, hanging the length of the shaft.

'It's a chimney. You can climb it without the rope, but the rope makes it easier.'

'And then you can walk around the cliff tops, back to the island.'

'Exactly. Want to try?'

'Sure,' I said quickly. I had the idea he was testing me.

Jed raised his eyebrows. 'Uh-huh. An adventurous type. I had you down for something else.'

That annoyed me. 'I found this place, and what's the big deal about climbing up the…'