A Clult in Paradise; Episode 46, Destination Pago Pago

This is episode forty-six of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Destination Pago Pago

It was the last trip back and forth from the island. Trace, Adam, and Demeter climbed aboard The Tramp Islander. Everyone was unpleasantly surprised to see their former leader.

Trace stepped on top of the hatch. “Give me attention everyone. I know you were all hoping for one less passenger. No one is to harm him. However, from now on his name is Haywood Demeter. Anyone who can’t live with that, we’ll send you ashore.”

Trace paused. No one said anything. 

Trace continued. “I thought about first taking you all to Bora Bora.  It’s about two days due south from here. But, most of you are American. Pago Pago is five or six days from here and will be less complicated. It’s an American territory. That’s where we are going to take you. It’s going to be crowded. There is room in the holds but we have plenty of canvass. We can spread it over the deck. Makani tells me we have plenty of food. It’s packaged military rations. None of you are allowed in the pilothouse. A bucket and modest privacy will be available for sanitary purposes. We’ll be sailing shortly.”

 Sage, pull the anchor,” Trace called out.

Trace stepped down. Everyone cheered, followed by pats on the back and thankful expressions. Trace smiled, but was unsure of how to handle the adulation.

Trace entered the pilothouse. He looked forward. Sage waved that the anchor was up.

Trace started the engine, steered hard starboard. He set a westerly 265-degree course. “That’ll do for now,” he murmured.

Trace grabbed the mic. “Sage, Coyote, hoist the sails. Dad, Pete, help these landlubbers secure a canvass covering over the deck. Makani, pick a couple of guys to help with some rations. Let’s get these folks fed and then let’s get some sleep.”

The sails snapped full of wind. Trace cut the engine. The Tramp Islander dashed west. An hour into the voyage everybody from the island lay beneath the canvas. 

Adam walked into the pilothouse.

“How ya feeling’?” Adam said.

Trace glanced at the instruments and turned to Adam. “Good. I’m running on adrenaline.”

“It eventually wears off,” Adam said.

“This control panel has a little feature,” Trace tapped the control panel with his finger. “All I have to do is turn it on. If the boat lists too much or strays more than five degrees, it starts beeping.”

“How come you didn’t tell me this until now?” Adam said.

“This switch right here,” Trace clicked a switch back and forth, “I always wondered what it was for. So I looked it up in the manual.” 

“Think of all the sleep we missed,” Adam said. 

He continued, “What are you going to do with all these folks when we get to Pago Pago?”

“This may sound uncaring,” Trace said, “but I’m going to notify government officials. Make sure we’re stocked up. And get out of Dodge before somebody in Pago Pago holds us responsible.”

“What about Demeter?” Adam asked.

“What about Demeter?” Trace said. “If he’s broken laws, that’s not for me to figure out. As twisted as governments and society are today, we’re liable to be charged with the destruction of the property back on that island. Yeah, I’m sailing out of Pago Pago without a notice.”

“That will be another island that you can’t return to,” Adam said.

“How many places can’t you return to?” Trace smiled.

“There’s a few,” Adam returned the smile and said, “Good night, son.” And he climbed below.

Indeed, Trace nodded off a few times and indeed, the instrument panel beeped a few times. 

Trace watched the sunrise. He slipped outside the pilothouse and looked beneath the canvas. Everybody slept soundly. He craned his neck to take a good look at Demeter. He looked closely to make sure his chest rose. 

“He’s alive,” Trace murmured. 

He returned to the pilothouse. 

Makani stood, waiting. “How you feel, Cap?”

“Starting to wind down,” Trace said. “Sage is going to take over as soon as he has breakfast.”

“Breakfast ready,” Makani said.

“I could smell it,” Trace replied. “Do you have anything for our passengers?”

“I fix coffee and oatmeal,” Makani said. “Oatmeal have apples, cinnamon, and sugar.”

“That’s thoughtful,” Trace said.

“Apples almost bad,” Makani said. 

“That was thoughtful,” Trace grinned.

Makani looked confused.

“Sarcasm,” Trace said.

“That means joke, right?” Makani said.

“Yeah,” Trace said, “kind of. If I have to explain it, somehow it’s not funny anymore.”

“What funny is you explaining and I already understand,” Makani said.

“How often do you do that?” Trace asked.

“When Makani need laugh,” Makani chuckled.

“I’m glad to amuse you,” Trace said.

“I should tell,” Makani said, “Demeter man no eat.”

“Well,” Trace said, “no matter how anybody feels about the man, in the last few hours, he’s had quite a fall. He was way up here,” Trace held his hind high and then lowered it to below his knees, “and now he’s down here—or maybe lower.”

“I no feel sorry,” Makani said. 

“Me neither,” Trace said. “No matter, he’s not feeling too good about things. And that is all his fault. He’s a charlatan. And likely responsible for the deaths of many. He’s a murderer.”

“Charlatan?” Makani inquired.

“A crook, a thief,” Trace said, “a thief of the worst kind. Money and property can be replaced, but hope and faith, it’s like stealing something inside that no one should ever take. It leaves a huge hole. Sometimes that hole is never filled.”

Makani fed the oatmeal in cleaned out the tin cans. Although not appearing sanitary, everybody knew it was the best thing available. 

Sage took over at the helm. 

Trace walked onto the deck and hunched under the canvas. He noticed the can of oatmeal next to Demeter had not been touched. He walked further, asking how everybody felt. He sat down with a small group of men for some small talk and a welfare check.

He turned to observe Demeter. Sylvia approached him. She held his can of oatmeal close to him. He looked ahead as if she weren’t there.

Trace raised to a hunched position and walked back to Demeter. He knelt on one knee.

“That young lady offered an act of kindness,” Trace said. “And like the egocentric, self-absorbed, self-righteous, psychopathic, flimflam, useless piece of cow excrement you are, you hope for self-pity. That young lady sees you as all those things, as well as being pathetic. None of us care whether you eat, drink, take a leak, or a crap. In fact, it’s better off if you don’t eat. I’d sail around Pago Pago a couple of days just to watch you die. But as it is, I want you off my boat and out of my life. So eat the oatmeal. And if we’re lucky you’ll choke on it.” Trace turned to everyone. “If he chokes on his food, let him go.” He turned back to Demeter. “I’ve lost a lot of sleep over you. I’m tired. I going to bed.”

Trace walked away and turned to the men. “Save him. Honestly, I don’t think it’s like any of you to let him die; certainly not me, despite what I said.”

Trace left the shelter. He opened the forward hatch to the companionway. He walked toward his cabin. On the way, he grabbed a piece of toast. He walked into his cabin and fell into the bed without removing his clothes. The piece of toast fell from his hand and onto the floor.

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 45, Haywood Demeter

This is episode forty-five of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Haywood Demeter

Soon, The Tramp Islander anchored one hundred yards offshore. Everyone was ferried from the island to The Tramp Islander. Only Trace, Sage, and Me’Ached remained on the beach when Adam returned for the last trip to the island.

“Let’s wait a few minutes,” Adam said. “I don’t want to leave anybody behind who doesn’t want to be left behind with this madman.”

“Don’t leave me here,” Me’Ached pleaded quietly to Trace.

Trace looked at Adam and Sage as if wanting advice.

“It’s your call,” Adam said.

Sage agreed with a couple of firm nods.

“By now,” Trace said, “a new leader has emerged. What will Omni tell him? If you trust in Omni, go back. If you trust me come with me.”

Trace looked out to The Tramp Islander. “It’s been about twelve hours since me, Sage, and Coyote ate. The most delicious bowl of rice ever. You must be getting hungry too,” he said to Sage.

“Makani gave me a cinnamon roll two trips ago,” Sage said.

“And you didn’t bring me one,” Trace said.

“Makani said he’d have a big breakfast ready,” Sage said. 

“And you didn’t want to spoil it for me,” Trace quipped.

“Something like that,” Sage said.

“Ya know,” Trace said, “other than the vermin, this isn’t such a bad island.”

“Won’t hold cattle,” Adam said.

“Yeah,” Trace said, “I suppose you’re right about that.” He turned to Me'Ached. “You ever have cattle on this island?”

“We are vegetarians, except for fish,” Me’Ached said.

“There’s nothing like cutting into a good steak,” Sage said. “I’m sure you tried it a couple of times.”

“It is not good for you,” MeAched said.

“Yeah,” Sage said, “I’ve read the studies but,  you ever think that’s what’s wrong with you, you just don’t want to be normal. You know, have the normal pleasures of life. When’s the last time you’ve had a big bowl of peanut butter chocolate chip ice cream? That’s rhetorical. But things like that change your whole outlook on life. Life is meant to be enjoyed. But I’m assuming you have never been able to figure out the difference between joy and debauchery. So you chose asceticism over joy.” 

“You know something,” Trace said, “and that’s rhetorical too, but that’s about one of the smartest things I’ve heard you say.”

“I think I read that someplace,” Sage said, “I didn’t come up with it on my own.”

“Words of wisdom are like a good rifle,” Adam said, “you didn’t have to invent it to use it at the right time.”

“Geez,” Trace said, “I’ve had all this genius around me all my life and just now discovered it.”

They all chuckled except for Me'Ached.

Trace looked at Me'Ached. “You can’t live in our world, can you? That’s also rhetorical. So you built your own. Once a person really looks inside your world, they decide to leave. That is, of course, they were not like you. You can’t abide by those who think on their own. Thinking is one of the hardest things to do. Lazy people develop prejudices and strict laws to keep from thinking. A divergent thought is a threat to you. And I think the saddest of all is that you are afraid to think.”

Trace turned to Adam who was scanning into the palms and brush. “You about ready?”

“Yeah,” Adam said

“Climb into the boat,” Trace said to Me'Ached. 

“Thank you,” he said.

“There’s a condition,” Trace said.

“What is it?”

“From this moment on you are Haywood Demeter,” Trace said. “On the boat, you will not answer to any other name. If you do, we set you afloat in a rubber boat.”

“As you wish,” Demeter said.

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 44, Salvation to Many

This is episode forty-four of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Salvation to Many

At least a half dozen white robbed figures emerged from the green foliage. 

“Stop!” Trace ordered.

All rifles pointed at the images in white robes.

“Me’Ached goes first and we open up on whatever moves toward us,” Trace said.

“It’s Tom.” He raised his hands. “These are my friends they want to go with you.”

“How many do you have?” Trace said. 

“There’s ten of us,” Tom said.

“There’s only one rubber boat coming,” Trace said, “maybe two. We’ll have to draw straws.”

“We can’t stay,” Tom said. “There is no telling what will be done to us. Even without Me’Ached, it will be dangerous for us. As we speak, there is a power vacuum without Me’Ached. Three men stepped forward in minutes to take charge.”

“I can calm things,” Me’Ached said.

“You’d put in a person-to-person with your ole buddy, Omni,” Sage said, “and the next thing you know, we’d be back in the hoosegow while the gallows are being built.”

“Okay,” Trace said, “I want you to come forward one at a time. Tom, you’re first.”

“Sage,” Trace said, “Pat ‘em down. And Coyote, keep an eye on em.’

One by one they came forward. They were patted down and sat on the beach. 

Trace looked out to sea. He flashed his light. A light flashed back. The rubber boat came close enough to see and the sound of the motor sputtered between breaking waves.

“Dad!” Trace yelled between cupped hands.

“Ahoy!”Adam said.

“You wouldn’t by chance bring another boat with you?” Trace said. 

The boat broke through the breaking waves. Adam pulled the pulled the boat onto the beach. “This is all I have.”

Adam looked down at Me’Ached sitting on the beach. “Is that the one and only?”

“It is,” Trace said. 

“And the rest?” Adam asked. 

“They want to go too,” Trace said.

“It’s not surprising,” Adam said. “I should have brought the other rubber boat and the launch.”

“Do you have the two-way on you?” Trace asked Adam.

Adam reached inside his shirt, and held out a two-way. He handed it to Trace.

Trace depressed a button. “Calling Makani, Tramp Islander.   

Calling Makani, Tramp Islander. Over.”

Trace waited. “He’s probably getting breakfast ready?”

“Is that you, Cap,” Makani said from the radio. “You okay? Is Adam there?”

“I’m good, and Adam is here,” Trace said. “I want you to start the engine and head directly for the flashing light. It will be Coyote and some guys in white robes. When you reach them, cut the engine and drop the anchor. Got it?”

“Got it, Cap,” Makani said. “But remember, if I do this, breakfast late in morning.”

“Over,” Trace said. He turned to the others. “What did I tell you, prep for breakfast.”

“Coyote,” Trace said, “motor out a hundred yards and wait for Makani. It’s plenty deep there. Give Pete the details and bring the other rubber boat back with you. Let’s get these guys off this island.”

“There are others,” Tom said.

“Others?” Trace said. 

Tom turned toward the palms. “Everybody come out.”

White robbed men and women began to quietly and slowly emerge from the palms.

“How many?” Trace asked.

“At least another twenty,” Tom said.

Trace looked down at Me’Ached and jokingly scolded, “This is all your fault. If you treated them better, none of this would have happened. Look at all the souls we have to save now.”

A Cult in Paradise, Episode 43, Golden Hostage

This is episode forty-three of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Golden Hostage

Trace held his arm firmly around Me'Ached’s neck and held the pistol to his temple. They walked off the stage and into the bush. 

Soon they reached the spot where their gear had been hidden. 

“Sit and don’t make a move,” Trace said to Me'Ached. 

He sat, and Trace, Sage, and Coyote uncovered the gear and prepared to continue.

“You better hope your second in command isn’t ambitious,” Trace said. 

“Why,” Me’Ached asked weakly.

“An ambitious man would come after you,” Trace said. “And at the risk, and even the hope, we might make good our threat and kill you. That would leave him number one. Is there such a man?”

Me’Ached looked away as if the question did not meet his standards of consideration.

“Stand,” Trace ordered. 

Me’Ached stood.

“I’ll take the lead,” Trace said. “You fall in behind me,” he said to Me'Ached. 

Trace handed the pistol to Coyote. “Fall in behind Me'Ached. Normally, I’d say don’t be trigger happy, but whatever makes your finger happy.”

“Sage,” Trace said,” watch our back.”

“You know if I’m killed, you lose a hostage,” MeAched said.

“Coyote,” Trace said, “If we get surrounded or something, you know some sort of standoff, shoot an arm or hand, something like that. Not a foot or leg. We need him to walk. Just make sure there’s one left in the chamber for the coup d’gras.”

“Gotcha,” Coyote said.

“Let’s go,” Trace said stepping back onto the path. Everyone fell in behind him. 

They followed the path as it wound through the thick brush and palms.

“Trace!” Sage said in a loud whisper. 

Trace stopped. “What is it?”

“I saw a light,” Sage said. “It’s a ways behind us. I’m sure we’re being followed.”

“They will catch up,” Me’Ached said. “There will be no mercy for you. And I’m prepared for whatever you have in mind.”

“I don’t think you’ll feel that way when I blow off one of your kneecaps,” Coyote said. 

“Let me go,” Me’Ached pleaded. “That’s all my people want. It is a sign from Omni that you were not meant to die. I can let you free.”

Coyote feigned a trance, imitating Me'Ached’s earlier demonstration. “Oh great Omni.” He paused. “Omni just told me your left kneecap first.”

“You mock Omni and I in your ignorance.”

“It’s me,” Trace said, “Omni and me. Omni and Me’Ached needs to brush up on their grammar.”

They moved on faster.

The sound of the breaking surf grew louder.

“I hope Dad’s waiting for us,” Trace said.

They reached the beach where they planned to rendezvous. Trace reached into his backpack and pulled out a flashlight. He signaled with it. They waited breathlessly. A flash of light signaled back.

“Dad’s on his way,” Trace said. 

“I hate to even suggest this,” Sage said, “but with them on our tail, we might have to take what’s-his-name with us for security.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Trace said. “We can shove him back toward the island and at least give him a paddle.”

“That’s more than what was comin’ our way,” Coyote said.

Trace flashed the flashlight again. Flashes were returned. 

Sage tossed his head toward the brush and palms. “They’re getting closer.”

“You still have some time to give this all up,” Me’Ached said. 

The sound of people moving through the brush and palms reached their ears. Trace, Sage, and Coyote chambered their weapons—three distinctive clicks.