The Great Escape Chapter 14, Part 9 of 11

The Great Escape
Chapter 14, Part 9 of 11

"You'll do, girl," Megan said, patting her bottom, "or should I say, 'young woman'?"

Tamar liked the sound of that. She pulled her dress down and skipped off to find Ezra.

He checked the battery levels of Yumi's emergency pod, which were nearly complete after three days of good sunshine. Her vital signs were also good. He looked for the raft from the top of the dune at sea. The women had fished all morning and were ready to paddle back to shore for lunch and a rest. He walked down to the beach to wait. When they noticed him, the rafters waved happily.

When the raft arrived, Megan and Tamar were also waiting on the beach to help drag the raft onshore. Carrying the catch of fish and sponges to the camp, Ezra and Megan were bombarded with questions: Was it a good journey? What was the Cloner Fair like? Whom did you meet? What did you do there? Can they revive Yumi? What did the chiefs say?

"All right, all right," he said, holding his hands up to stem the tide of inquiries. "Can we wait for Wildchild to return so we don't have to tell the story twice?"

There was reluctant agreement, and the women settled down to gut and prepare the fish and trim the sponges of their stalks.

All except Devon and Thalassa, who walked far from the camp for a private discussion. They'd been friends in the days of the Mariner factions when Devon had resolved to fight the old chief, Belena, to protect Thalassa.

"All right, Thalassa," Devon said, "Tell me your problem."

"It's Ezra. You're his bedmate. You understand him. Why won't he touch me?"

"Have you asked him to?"

"Not explicitly. He knows I'm of age. I told him on the day Belena was banished that I'd be his bedmate. Since then, I've shown him I want sex. I've given him lots of hints."

"There's your problem, Darling. Ezra doesn't respond to hints. Men are not very subtle. You'll have to be explicit and say what you want. You have to be bold."

"Bold? I can be bold," said the sweet, gentle girl, whose habitual patience was proverbial in Samothea. "I've got a plan."

Devon listened to Thalassa's plan.

"That is bold!" she acknowledged, seeing the strength of desire overcome a lifetime of placid resignation.

"Will you help me?"

"Yes. I'll tell the others, and we'll do it tonight if they agree. It'll be fun!"

As the salvage party did their chores in the camp, Ezra noticed Dagma rubbing at the neck of her dress. Her shoulders were red. Carlin also looked sunburned. Used only to the diffused sunlight of the forest, the pale-skinned girls had caught the sun badly.

He fetched some soft cheese and mixed it with some nut oil.

"How did you two get so burned?" he asked them as he rubbed the cheese in his hands to make a paste. I saw you wearing your sun hats on the raft. Did you go naked on the beach?"
Carlin nodded.

"We've been learning to swim," Dagma explained. "We're getting quite good, but Carlin and I must have caught the sun."

"Here," Ezra said, handing over dollops of the paste. "Use this on the burns. It will smell unpleasant but may help soothe your skin and stop peeling. Come on, girls, you can't do it with your clothes on."

Dagma and Carlin stripped, and he applied the paste, saying:

You two should stay out of the sun for a while.

They meekly agreed.

Everyone welcomed a dry beef and cheese lunch, which they greedily consumed. Ezra continued to frustrate the women by not telling them what happened at Cloner City, so Kalyndra gave an account of the salvage party during the last three days.

"We began the swimming lessons the day after you left. We go fishing in the mornings and have swimming lessons in the afternoons. We saw marlin, but they weren't close enough to throw a spear at them."

Ezra thought of his projectile gun, safe in his ship's hold. It had a harpoon attachment that could be used to catch marlin in the future.

"Wildchild's been visiting the Herders' Mid-Way camp for dried beef and cheese supplies.

Springs muddied up. It's all right for horses, but now we leave open water bladders hanging on the tent sides to catch night rain. The sponges were growing on the wreck of your ship.

They're as good as the ones we dive for at home. That's all I can think of."

Only Tamar had nothing to add. She'd lent out some of his books, but one was impossible to understand except for a few words. She didn't think it was written in English.

"That'll be Shakespeare's plays," Ezra said, and he attempted to explain this necessary component of any desert island book list. His faltering explanation was mercifully interrupted by Wildchild, who returned to the camp having ridden off her bad temper. She'd visited the forest to chop some more wood.

She also had a sweet and spongy gift for Tamar: a new thong of pale grey sheepskin.

Wildchild had guessed Tamar's state and picked up the raw leather at the Herders' Northern Camp on her way back. She still needed to cut it to fit her hunting knife, but Tamar was thrilled and looked guiltily at Megan for preferring her new thong to the second-hand one. Megan dismissed the apology. She was happy for Tamar and pleased Wildchild looked out for her lovingly. Besides, it was helpful to have more than one of the garments.

With all the salvage parties assembled, Ezra could no longer refuse the demand to tell the story of their visit to Cloner City.

"First, I have to tell you that Yumi is pregnant. I'm sorry I didn't say so before."

Now, the women were even more keenly interested in Yumi's health.

"Also, I'd like to set the pod to begin reviving Yumi. It may take twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

I don't know how long we can move her, but probably a few days. Does anyone object to staying here another week?

No one objected.

"Have we enough supplies?"

"More than enough," Kalyndra said. "And someone can ride for more, as necessary."

"Of course; then I'll start the program on the pod."

They all came over to watch as he keyed a few commands into the instrument panel on the pod's side, checked the read-outs, and pressed the big green image of a button.

An orange warning text appeared: 'Are you sure you want to initiate the automatic occupant revival system?'

"Of course, I'm bloody sure," Ezra muttered through gritted teeth and pressed the big green button again. A red box appeared with text:

"Revival sequence initiated. Batteries at 98%. Chance of revival: strongly positive. Time elapsed: 00:03."

"That's it," he said. "Now we wait."

It was a more straightforward and less exciting process than everyone had expected, but they were pleased that the chance of revival was strongly positive. Now, Ezra told them about Cloner City, how opulent it was, and how disappointing its technology store, especially its medical technology, was.

As they sat listening to him, the wind began to pick up. Soon, dark clouds gathered over the ocean. It was time to start cooking dinner. Wildchild lit the fire with her penknife, and skewered fish were balanced on sticks over the orange flames. Cooking stones were placed on the logs to heat vegetable soup. Potatoes were buried among the logs to bake in the hot ash.

As they cooked, Devon whispered to Kalyndra and then to Cressi. They each glanced at Thalassa and nodded in agreement. Devon signaled to Thalassa, and the girl tried not to blush. It seemed her bold plan was going ahead.

It was turning toward dusk now, and Ezra remembered something.

"I kept another secret. Tamar, please fetch the box I left in your care?"

Some had forgotten the curious box, but Tamar remembered and brought it from her tent.

"Will you open it for me, please?"

There was a clip on the side, and the lid swung open. Inside was a bottle with a mahogany-gold liquid in it and a label that Tamar read out loud:

"The Macallan Highland Single Malt Scotch Whisky Eighteen Years Old. What is it, Ezra?"

"It's an alcoholic drink that I save for special occasions."

He fetched two of the glasses salvaged from his ship.

"What's 'alcoholic'?"

"Alcohol is an ingredient in a drink that tingles in the mouth, warms the blood, and renders the drinker happy. When taken to excess, it causes mental impairment and nausea. None of you will like it, though you're welcome to try a sip."

He pulled out the stopper and poured the nectar into the glasses—a large one for himself and a medium one for the others to try—he wouldn't waste it—and handed it to Kalyndra.

"Sniff first," he said, burying his nose in his glass and breathing deeply. Kalyndra was more cautious. She wafted a handful of fumes from the glass over her nose.

"Mumm, pleasant," she said, "but unusual."

"You're smelling toffee, caramel, vanilla, ginger, maybe orange and some spices."

"I don't know half of those smells," she said.

"Now taste. Sip a tiny amount. It's powerful."

She sipped and made a gruesome face.

"It's horrible, it burns!" she exclaimed.

"All right, pass the glass around so everyone can sniff it. Then I'll water it down, and you can try tasting it again."

Each woman, including Carlin and Tamar, took a sniff. Everyone said they liked the smell.

Then, he added about a quarter of its volume of water.

Kalyndra took a sip.

"Yuck!" she said and passed on the glass.

Everyone hated the taste except Dagma and Wildchild, who both took second sips.

"Yum!" said Wildchild, finishing the glass and holding it to him.

"All right," said Ezra, "you can have some more, but watered down."

Wildchild seemed content with that restriction. She sniffed and sipped again in time with him.

"What about me?" Dagma asked, "I like it, too."

"Sorry, Darling," he said, "but no more than a taste for you. It's bad for the baby."

With that, Ezra poured another glass, and the company settled into a typical evening of friendly chat. The smell of crisping fish and baking potatoes wafted to keen noses, building appetites.

That night, Ezra got drunk.

When he'd finished his third large glass, having drunk about a quarter of the bottle, his speech was slurred, and his eyes were glazed over. Kalyndra tried to take the bottle from him, but he cuddled it close, staring vacantly at the glowing red embers of the campfire. Eventually, he shut his eyes.

When the night rain started, four dragged him into a tent, removed his shoes, stuck a rolled-up blanket under his head, threw it over his curled-up body, the bottle still protected against his chest, and left him to sleep it off.

Kalyndra, Cressi, Thalassa, and Devon shared a tent.

"I'm sorry we couldn't implement your plan tonight," Devon told Thalassa. It did depend on Ezra being sober and active."

"No matter," said the wise girl. "There will be other nights."

"I'd take that bottle away from him and hide it," Devon suggested.

"No, that's unfair," Kalyndra said. "He's left so much behind on Earth. Let him enjoy it for now."

"It was horrible stuff," said Cressi. "I don't know how he could enjoy it."

No one disputed that judgment.

"We can put the time to good use," Devon said. "We can prepare Thalassa for what's to come.

We can teach her how to kiss."

"Good idea," said Cressi, rolling on her side to face Thalassa. "Me first!"

She pulled the thin, dark girl to her and pressed their lips together. Thalassa had never been kissed sexually before, but she responded with pleasure, liking all kinds of affection and keen to learn.

They took turns to embrace her but went no further than kissing, though there was tingling excitement for the eighteen-year-old as warm naked bodies pressed together, breasts rubbing against breasts, hands in her hair or stroking her back.

When they judged Thalassa had got the hang of it, the Mariner women described sex with Ezra as best they could. Then they went quietly to sleep, but Thalassa was restless. She was trembling with anticipation. It took all her reserves of wise restraint and patience to calm herself enough to sleep.

The following day, Ezra had a headache. Daylight pierced his brain. The noise made his head throb. Stiff joints made moving painful. He was in a bad way. He wanted to crawl into a grave and die.

Dagma was the most sympathetic and stayed in the camp to watch over him. At five months pregnant, it was convenient for her to have an easy day occasionally.

She washed off yesterday's cream cheese and applied more. Then she sat at the entrance of her tent, out of the sun's rays, waiting for him to wake up.

"Good morning!" she called breezily as he raised the tent flap.

"Oh, God! Not so loud, please!" he protested, blinking and shielding his eyes from the painful daylight.

"Sorry," Dagma whispered. "What can I get you for breakfast?"

The thought of breakfast made him queasy.

"Just water, please, and lots of it."

Dagma fetched him a bladder of water. He drank the whole skin without stopping and began to feel better. His headache passed quickly. His only regret was that he now had to go and empty his bladder.

When he was back, he lay in the tent and felt delicate until, an hour later, Dagma persuaded him to eat something. He chewed dry beef therapeutically and slowly began to feel human again.

"Where's everyone?" he asked.

"Fishing as usual, then swimming lessons," Dagma said.


To be continued