Part 32 (1/2)

”Because you know where it is, whereas I'd probably f.u.c.k up if I went.”

”Fair enough.”

”Hurry.”

So I did. I looked at a piece of wood as though it were an iPhone-one of those weird tricks of modern living that makes a person totally invisible. When I reached Fiona's tent, as quick as a hawk, I swooped down and lifted the corner. The s.h.i.+rt was gone. c.r.a.p.

And that's when I was clubbed on the head, but this time I didn't pa.s.s out. I turned around to find Fiona, livid, holding a tiki log in her right hand, my T-s.h.i.+rt in its bag in her left.

”Raymond, I can't believe you shoved Stuart out of the boat!”

”We did no such thing.”

”Don't even bother pretending otherwise; I saw you do it.” She whacked me on the shoulder.

”What the f.u.c.k! Fiona, stop!”

”Where's the boat, Raymond?”

I turned to face her. ”Ahhh. So now I've got something you want, right?”

”You tool. In about thirteen minutes, every person on this island is going to realize that, with the network boat sunk, there are only a finite number of calories, almost no water, and way too many people here. I do not want to be a part of that scenario. You've got a boat. It's a big advantage.”

”So ...”

”So right now, you, me and our two children go to Neal's house and ransack it for food. And then we take our h.o.a.rd to some other, safer, hidden island. There are lots of them. And then we stay alive while everyone else dies a hideous, most likely cannibalistic death. After that, I have no further plans.”

She was right.

”And don't even think of kicking me out of that boat, Raymond. You're a family man now and you will live up to your responsibilities.”

”Neal has to come too.”

”Fair enough. At least he has genuine skills that could come in handy.”

”And he gets the Cure T-s.h.i.+rt as a reward.”

Fiona thought this over for longer than one might imagine, and then she heaved a sigh. ”You're right. Where is he?”

”I'm right here.” He was behind us.

”Good. You'll have heard all this, then. We have to go clean out your place immediately.”

Poor Neal looked crestfallen. ”It was such a perfect kingdom while it lasted. But I do see your point. I'll go bring the boat around to the mangrove patch nearest the house.”

I was expecting to find Neal's place looted already but when we looked in the windows, things were untouched. ”Fiona, people are so f.u.c.king stupid.” Then I had a thought that sank my mood: ”Christ. What about Mother?”

”I need to discuss that with you. Rumour has it she's in Neal's business centre having a f.u.c.kfest with Eamon.”

”Oh him. Well, they deserve each other. And honestly, s.h.a.gging her brains out is a much more desirable way for Mother to go than sitting around with us feeling guilty because she may have to dine on a family member. Let's keep her out of our plan.”

”Excellent idea.”

Just then Kyle and Emma showed up. Fiona briefed them, ending with, ”And remember, make no noise whatsoever inside Uncle Neal's house. We want Grandmum to enjoy her time giving Mr. Eamon his medically approved therapeutic s.h.i.+atsu ma.s.sage.”

”No problem,” said Kyle. ”I can hear them already. It sounds like it's going very well.”

”Gosh, this is exciting!” added Emma.

”Okay, let's go do our thing.”

51.

”What shall we steal next, Dad?”

Ah, families ... nasty, dreadful, toxic things, but in those rare moments when they work, they can be something that approaches fun.

”We've nicked all the tinned goods, Kyle. Now go through the cutlery drawers for the basics, and for f.u.c.k sake-I mean for G.o.d's sake-Yay G.o.d!-make sure we have a tin opener. Your mum is just about through loading up her golf cart.”

”I'm on it.” And off went Kyle.

Emma and I went to the hut out back. As we were pilfering the last of the bug sprays and medical supplies, we had one of those father-daughter moments that money can't buy. We were about to walk out of the hut, talking as we went ...

”I must say, Dad, Grandmum's s.h.i.+atsu client is having a terrific time. But is it natural to scream whenever ...” Emma stopped and looked at the loo door at the same moment I did. We both realized the same thing at the exact same time.

”Dad, this could be the last time we experience a flush toilet for the rest of our lives.”

We were frozen to the spot. I felt as if we were all headed off to war. ”Emma, why don't you have, ummm, a farewell flush.”

”Thanks, Dad. I'll always remember this.”

So Emma went to say farewell to civilization as I packed the last items on my golf cart, whistling ”The Angry Dance” theme from Billy Elliot. I got to thinking of that crazy day on Wake Island and how it already felt like another historical era. And then I heard an echo of my song-it was Neal, joining in, doing a little Billy Elliot jig while carrying a full 10-gallon gasoline can in each hand.

”Ah, Billy the little poofter,” said Neal fondly, ending his jig with a small plie. ”Dance your brains out, you gay little mite. Just don't get caught in a bareback fourgy in the airport loo.”

Emma rejoined us then, carrying medical supplies and a twenty-four-pack of Andrex Bright & Bold tissue. ”It's more as a souvenir than for wiping, really,” she said, balancing it on the cart atop a box of shotgun sh.e.l.ls.

”She is a chip off the old block, isn't she, Ray? Shall we go? I can hear people approaching.”