A Cult in Paradise; Episode 36, Coconuts

This is episode thirty-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. 

Coconuts

Trace resisted sleep, fearing he might have a concussion. He sat on his bunk leaning against the wall.

Coyote whispered between the bars. “You still have the pistol, don’t you?”

“Yep,” Trace said.

Sage whispered through the bars. “We got to start thinking about how to shoot our way out of this place.”

“We’re getting pretty good at this,” Coyote said.

“We have to find a better class of enemies,” Sage said. “Everybody we seem to come in contact with ends up behind bars or we do.”

“Maybe it’s us,” Coyote said. “Maybe we’re born to be behind bars.”

“Someday we’re gonna find ourselves in something we can’t get out of,” Sage said.

“With our record, we ought to be well suited for public office,” Coyote said. “I don’t know one politician back home who hasn’t spent at least thirty days behind bars. There was a mayor not too far from us who held mayor’s court from behind bars.”

Trace gave way to a slight smile. He was pleased Sage and Coyote weren’t overcome with anxiety to the extent they might lose their sense of humor. That was one of the things he liked about Sage. No matter how dire the situation, he always managed to relax himself and others. It always allowed Trace to think clearly. And Sage always knew how much humor to bring and when. Sometimes humor can cloud serious contemplation. That time had not come yet. Each privately thought some sort of execution may take place. 

The conversation quieted for a while. Each man is left to his thoughts—and fears. One thing was certain in the mind of all, they would not go down without a fight.

Trace thought some time would have to elapse before a decision could be made. They knew at least five got away. Would they talk? They would have to assume the three from the island would more than likely talk to authorities. Right now, Trace was certain Me’Ached might be in a panic mode. He had to make certain everybody was unified, because the authorities might come to investigate. That meant one thing was for certain; there could be no evidence on the island of the existence of Trace, Sage, or Coyote.

The door to the stockade swung open. Sage and Coyote stood, expecting that one of them might be next. Trace sat on the bed, experiencing a headache.

The guard walked in. He stood in front of Trace’s cell. Trace looked at him ominously and in obvious discomfort.

The guard cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for what happened. Something came over me. I thought you were being disrespectful to Me’Ached. He was repulsed by my actions.”

“He sure didn’t show it,” Trace said.

“Me’Ached has great compassion and great control,” the guard said. “You were completely defenseless. I’m sick over the way I acted. I apologize from my heart.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Trace said. “The heat of battle—those things happen.”

“I’m not without punishment,” the guard said. “You can suggest a fitting punishment.”

“You mean, like I whack you on the back of the head?” Trace said.

“If you wish,” the guard said, “but no more than that.”

“You mean, I can’t give you a swift kick in the crotch?” Trace said.

“Me’Ached would decide if that was equal or not,” the guard said.

“To tell you the truth,” Trace said, “I’m not into retribution. Sure, if you stole a calf and ate it. I’d expect you to go out and steal another one to pay me back. As it is, your apology is enough for me.”

A distressed look flashed on the guard’s face. He moved close the the bars of Trace’s cell. “If you don’t choose a punishment, Me’Ached will.”

“In other words,” Trace said, “you could still get a good kick in the crotch.”

“Maybe worse,” the guard said. 

“Just when I thought I’d reached the ultimate, and there’s worse,” Trace said. “Never mind telling what it could be.”

“Me’Ached is very creative,” the guard said.

“So,” Trace gave the guard a sideways look, “I can inflict any punishment on you as long as it satisfies Me’Ached’s sadistic thirst.”

“Yes,” the guard said.

“Where does this take place?” Trace asked.

“In his sanctuary,” the guard said. “All good, pure, and just things take place there.”

“When?” Trace asked.

“I’m supposed to return you to the sanitary now,” the guard said.

“Hardly gives me the time needed to conjure something sadistic to satisfy a sadist,” Trace said.

“Do what you have to do,” the guard said.

“Did you ever play baseball?” Trace asked.

“I was an outfielder in high school,” the guard said.

“Then you know what a catcher’s cup is?” Trace said.

“Yeah,” the guard said bewilderedly.

“Okay,” Trace said, “get this straight; I’m feeling a little woozy. I told you to come back in half an hour. That will give you time enough to split a coconut and form it into a catcher’s cup. Make sure it fits you properly. Your clothes are loose enough, there won’t be any bulging.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” the guard said. 

“I’m going to take your cane and give you a good one in the nuts—coconuts,” Trace said. “Then give the performance of your life.”

“If we get caught…”

Trace interrupted, “…if we get caught it isn’t going to be any worse than it already is. Would you rather I beat you senseless with a real coconut?”

“Nobody has pulled something over on Me’Ached before,” the guard said.

“That’s because nobody has tried,” Trace said. “Which greatly increases our chances of success. Now, let me lie down and play sick for a while, and you go find your coconut. The island is full of ‘em. And don’t tell me there’s none big enough.” Trace grinned. “Go!”