Net of Blood Read online

Net of Blood

  By Selmoore Codfish

  Copyright 2015 Selmoore Codfish

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  Table of Contents

  Net of Blood

  About the Author

  Other books by the Author

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  Chapter 1

  Bam! The plane shuddered in the turbulence.

  “Mr. Harris,” called the attendant over the intercom, “I hope you are buckled. It is going to be a rough landing. The air strip is just ahead.” I was already secured so tightly in my seat that the circulation could have been cut off to my legs.

  I looked out of the window. In the sea, straight ahead and just to the left of the plane nose was a landing strip. It hung alone in the water. No island country of Truro Shoal was there. It might be across the nose of the plane where I couldn’t see, but I didn’t know.

  The plane shuddered again as if it were resisting landing on such a small strip in middle of the blue sea. One sudden gust as we touched down could throw us into the water on either side, or a sudden updraft could throw us off the end of the runway. There was no room for error, just pavement then water. The plane turned and I couldn’t see the runway anymore. I couldn’t tell from looking out my window how high above ground we were. All I could do was hold tight, and close my eyes and pray. I had to trust.

  I told myself that the pilots must have made the trip many times before. I was the only passenger on the chartered 16-seat Jetstream. We’d taken off from Taiwan several hours earlier and headed south.

  My employer had arranged my flight to Taiwan on a commercial air carrier, then the charter for the second leg. I hoped that the staff at work had told the charter to go to the right island, or I’d be left stranded in the middle of the South China Sea.

  The plane shook to the right in the agitated air and I briefly saw other land from the opposite window.

  We swayed back left as the pilot fought the elements. It was as if I was being told “Don’t go here. It is a mistake.”

  Maybe it was God’s warning to leave things alone. If so, I would have gladly stayed home, but I wish that he’d have told me sooner.

  I hoped that this trip was worth the rocky ride. I worked for the church in insurance, but occasionally I’d been called to perform other duties, such as I had in this case.

  Out of my window the waves looked very close. I grabbed the armrest, and chewed my gum nervously. It looked like there was a reef under the waves. An atoll would be a nice straight flat place to build a runway. I was here because the leader of the island nation had expelled the only clergy. That meant that the believers there had no means to partake in the sacraments. In the eyes of the church, that was a tremendous grievance. It was the one thing the leaders cared about. It was above everything else.

  The church asked to send representatives, but all men-of-the-cloth had been threatened not to come. As a lay person, I was sneaking in on a tourist visa.

  Suddenly, one wheel and another touched ground. I could see the side of the pavement and the water, not far away. As the front wheel touched, the pilot braked.

  For better or worse, I was here and I was relieved to be down. I didn’t know yet how much I’d personally benefit from the trip. I had been struggling with what I believed and it would turn out that my journey would help me understand what I had been missing.

  The plane stopped, then made a tight turn and then taxied back up the runway. When we stopped again, the engines powered off.

  The co-pilot came from the front cabin. He smiled.

  “Whew,” I said. He laughed.

  The flight crew unloaded my suitcase and I stepped off the plane. I saw the main island clearly for the first time. It was a few miles wide, with one large black hump, possibly volcanic.

  “We radioed the ferry,” said the flight crew. “They’ll come for you.”

  “Did they reply that they had heard you?” I asked.

  “No, but everyone in Fusang would have heard the Jetstream land,” he replied. That was the capitol city.

  I looked across the water at the city which was about a mile away. It was a small town with a few hundred buildings. There was a cove at the base of the city and I couldn’t see any ferries coming.

  “Anyhow,” said the co-pilot as he shook my hand. “We need to head back. It’s a long trip.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I moved down to a docking platform as the crew closed the plane door. They taxied to the start of the runway, turned, then roared past into the air. I held my ears. It was such a big plane to carry one passenger, but I supposed that it had to be large to have the long range to get here.

  It was a sunny day. The island looked pleasant. There were lots of palm trees. I had brought my swim trunks. This could be a relaxing vacation if I wasn’t beheaded and thrown to the sharks for representing the church.

  I noticed a boat headed out of the cove. It turned towards me. I hoped it was the ferry, and not someone looking for live shark bait. Several minutes passed as it neared. The island was small enough that I had a good chance of meeting its leader. When I got my passport stamped after setting foot on land, I would ask the official how to find the island president.

  The boat pulled to the dock. It had several rows of seats so it was obviously a ferry.

  The captain shut the engine off. A boy jumped off with a rope. Then he wrapped it around a support on the dock.

  They appeared to be the only crew. They both had round faces like ethnic Chinese. The writing on the side of the boat was in Chinese too.

  I had been good with languages, but I’d never picked up that one. I hoped that the church administration hadn’t messed up and sent me somewhere that I needed an interpreter.

  My relationship with my employer had been rocky. I’d upset the money changers’ tables a few times and I’d made some enemies. Maybe by sending me here they were trying to get even.

  Maybe I worried too much. Most of the people that I’d upset had retired. The ones who remained thought more highly of me.

  The captain of the ferry stood at the door, gesturing me in. The boy pulled my bag.

  “Thank you,” I said, “I’m Neal.” I was trying to be friendly.

  He didn’t make eye contact with me. He kept his head down.

  I stepped onto the boat. It was very nice. I could tip the boy, but I had no local money, and he set down my bag then went back to untie the boat. After that he disappeared through a doorway.

  “Did you get the radio call from the plane?” I asked the ferry captain. He obviously had. He stood silent for a moment in front of me. His head was still bowed. Then he went to the front of the boat. He started the engines and pulled out. The sea wasn’t as rocky behind the atoll.

  The boy returned. I assumed he was probably ready for his tip, so I reached for my wallet.

  The boy held a small trash can towards me. He looked straight at the ground.

  I was confused. Was I supposed to put a tip in the trash? I wouldn’t do that.

  “Uh?” I said, and shrugged. It was the universal sign for not understanding.

  He pointed at his mouth and chomped it while continuing to avert his eyes. I connected the ideas of my mouth chomping and trash. The boy wanted me to spit out my gum.

  I impulsively did so. I couldn’t believe that this little boy was making me give up my gum. This place had much different rules than I was used to. I was a fish out of water. I guessed that it was better than being turned into shark bait.

  With his prize, the boy disappeared again. Then I walked around the ferry and looked out of the windows.

  As we neared the cove, the small capitol was coming into better detail. It was
so small that it probably had only one barber, one doctor, one nurse, and a few teachers. Hopefully I wouldn’t be there long enough to need those services. I promised my family that I’d return as quickly as I could. I had a wife, young daughter and possibly another child on the way.

  Along the shore of the cove, I noticed one small warehouse and a wharf where a moderately-sized vessel could dock. A few shipping containers sat near the water. We were headed to the back of the cove where the town was centered. I noticed a few people walking. None of the buildings were very tall. Most looked like single family homes, but rather than homes they looked like shacks. Most had metal roofs. The walls were white plaster.

  At the center of the city, the buildings looked in better condition, but made from the same basic materials.

  We passed a landing with four fishing charter boats. The berth that we approached had another boat tied next to it. The lights on top suggested it was a police vessel. The wake from the ferry caused it to slosh around.

  We docked and I got off the boat. There was no one waiting to check my passport and no place that was obvious to go to do so.

  The boy started pulling my suitcase up the ramp and down the street. Either he was stealing it or showing me where to go. I followed him to find out. I passed a person on the street who kept his head down like the others.

  The largest building in town was just ahead. However, it looked more like a hotel then a customs office.

  My instructions included a note that I had reservations at the Xing Presidential Resort. My hopes were lifted when I saw the exact same words in English on the hotel sign.

  The boy led me through the front door and to the main desk. A Chinese man stood there and smiled.

  “Welcome, Mr. Harris,” he said.

  “I believe I have a reservation,” I said.

  “Of course you do,” he replied. His name badge said, “Jing-Sheng.” He looked me in the eyes, not shyly down like the others. It was how I expected to be treated.

  I pulled out my wallet to show ID. While it was out, I thought of tipping the boy. I turned but he had left.

  “Thank you,” said the clerk. “Your room was paid for through the week.”

  “I hope I’m not here the whole week,” I said.

  “In the offseason, we only rent on a low weekly rate. In a couple weeks, when the Taiwanese tourists start coming, we charge daily.”

  “You speak English very well,” I said. “Do you get many English-speaking tourists?”

  “A couple per year,” he said.

  “The ferry crew didn’t seem to understand what I was saying.”

  “Very few on the island speak it.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” I said. “Where do I go to get my passport stamped?”

  “It’s not necessary,” he said. “We are a Taiwanese protectorate, so they manage on their end.”

  I nodded.

  “So are you part of Taiwan?” I asked.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Truro Shoal is an independent country, but don’t say that near the President.” He tried to smile.

  I nodded.

  “I’ve never heard of a country like that,” I said. “Are there strong political connections between the countries?”

  “Actually, no. Taiwan does little other than patrol the coast. The two islands are very different. Our political system is communist.”

  “Then, it seems that you are aligned closer to China,” I said.

  “Yes, but if we connected with them, they’d swallow us up—hence, the need to have a protector.”

  I nodded. Then he handed me a key. Another man approached to carry my bag.

  “While I’m here,” I said, “I’d like to consult with President Xing.” The clerk stared at me a moment. “Is it anything I can help you with instead?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. He paused and thought about it.

  “If you must, then when you are ready, I can give you directions,” he replied.

  After I got to my room, I laid down a moment to rest. When I woke up sometime later, I didn’t know what time it was. I checked my watch. It said three o’clock, but I hadn’t reset it since leaving home. I pulled out my cellphone, but there was no service, so I didn’t think I should trust the time on it. The room had no clocks. On vacation time didn’t matter.

  I called the front desk. I hoped I could use the room phone to call Angela later.

  “What time is it?” I asked when Jing-Sheng answered.

  “3:00pm,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said and hung up. It was exactly twelve hours difference between home and the island. I couldn’t call them now, because they’d be asleep.

  Being mid-afternoon, it seemed like a good time to try to talk to President Xing. I got dressed into my formal clothes. It was an island and people were likely casual, but I wanted to meet the President.

  On the way out, I took a wrong turn and ended up in the outdoor pool area in back of the building. I was groggy when I’d arrived, so I hadn’t paid much attention to the hotel. This time I noted where the café was located.

  At the front desk, I approached Jing-Sheng. He was smiling again.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “How can I help you?” he asked.

  “First, does the island have cellphone service?”

  “No, but we have Wi-Fi,” he replied. I nodded.

  “Next, you said you could help me get to the Presidential office,” I said.

  “Yes. The town has two main roads and several spurs. One main road is the one right here that loops around the harbor.” He pointed out the door. “The other one is parallel to it in town. It is the next block up the hill. Take it to the right three blocks. Then look for the building with the flag.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Do the roads have names?”

  “Yes, that is Flamingo Road, but there are no signs.”

  “Are there flamingos around here?”

  “No, it was wishful thinking by the colonizers.”

  I thanked him again and walked out. I looked around for a moment to make sure that I knew where I was so I wouldn’t get lost. A one room police station was straight across from the hotel. It was a small town with two roads, so I felt confident I could find my way.

  I walked to Flamingo Road and turned right. I saw the flag on the capitol building already. There weren’t any vehicles on the street. There had been an old SUV back at the police station, and one pickup truck was parked ahead. Some of the buildings were shops, but I couldn’t read their names. Through one window I saw bric-a-brac for tourists.

  The capitol building was as big as a one-story single family home. If I was going to put myself in danger, I was doing it blatantly by walking up to it and greeting it.

  I went in and approached a man sitting at a desk. A nameplate said, “Min.” Then it had his title, “Secretary General” in a few languages. I waited for him to look up before I spoke.

  “Hello,” I said, “I am Neal Harris. I represent the interests of the worldwide Assembly of Churches. I would like to talk to the President about his policies on allowing religious sacraments.”

  “Is this something you want to do?” he asked. His reply was odd. Obviously I wanted to see the president.

  “Yes,” I said. Maybe he hadn’t heard me clearly. “I would like to see him. May I?”

  “It is unusual for Our Earthly Lord to welcome visitors,” he replied.

  Wow, I thought. They must think very highly of their president to refer to him by that title.

  “I am not really a visitor, but a representative. I’m a regional manager of the Sacred Recluse Self Insurance Group, not a tourist.” SRSIG was the business arm of the church.

  “Our Lord might not entertain the idea of meeting you,” he replied. Mr. Min was hearing me, he just spoke oddly.

  “I’d like to attempt to see him,” I said.

  “The President may be occu
pied with other matters of the state,” he said. Min started working again. I stood in front of his desk thinking.

  The Secretary General was essentially telling me that I couldn’t see the President. I needed to be persistent or my trip would be a waste and the local believers would be stuck.

  Now that Min and I were quiet, I heard a television in the background. It sounded like a cartoon, but in Chinese.

  A man laughed at the TV show. I thought it could be the President. The small building was his office and I saw or heard no one else besides Min.

  I stayed there waiting and considering my options. Then, the television show seemed to transition to a commercial. Instead of a cartoon, it was a woman’s voice.

  Another man crossed the hall behind Min’s desk. As he went into a second room, I got a glimpse of a wash basin in the room.

  A minute later, the door handle rattled. I decided to speak.

  “Mr. President,” I said as the man came out. “May I speak with you?”

  “Uh?” he said as he turned.

  Min scowled. I stepped past his desk to be in better conversation distance with the president.

  “I’m Neal Harris,” I said. “I’d like to talk to you about allowing people to take communion.”

  “Ah ya,” he said. “Why you do this?” That sounded like an expression, but I took it as a literal question.

  “It is important for believers,” I said.

  He furrowed his eyebrows and stared right at me. I had to avert my eyes for a second, but then he was still staring, so I looked downward. He was probably used to that from his subjects. They all had downcast eyes.

  “You are a preacher?” President Xing said as if he was charging me with a crime.

  “No,” I said. I didn’t want to be made into shark bait. “I’m a civilian employee of the church.” I nodded in the direction of the Secretary General to show that I was comparable to him.

  The President made an exasperated expression by smacking his lips. At least he wasn’t angry.

  “No, they are not permitted,” he said. He meant the believers were not allowed freedom.

  “Why?” I asked. “They don’t harm anyone.”

  “They do,” he said. “This isn’t your country. You come here with your individualistic assumptions. You don’t see that when you act for your own benefit you are being destructive to society.”

  I hadn’t heard that the local believers had been causing problems. Yet, that wasn’t quite what the President had said.

  “How are they harmful?” I asked.

  The President impulsively turned when he heard his cartoon start again. However, he paused and stared back again. I turned my eyes down as before.

  “The choices we make will define our society,” he said. “We can’t allow individuals to make decisions that distract us. We need a consistent message to follow the same course.

  “It is more important to maintain an orderly society. The shameful acts of a few can spoil society.”

  “Who makes that choice?” I asked. “Is it you?”

  “It is the collective will of the people. They want to uphold continuity. If they didn’t, do you think that I would be their leader?” He was defiant as he raised his voice.

  “I am the leader of this system,” he continued. “Everyone must submit to the law and submit to me. Anyone who disobeys is a traitor who is spurring rebellion.”

  He went into his office and closed the door. He had made his final point and was done talking to me. If I pushed any more, in his eyes I’d be spurring riots.

  I walked out of the office. I said “thank you” to Min over my shoulder.

  My brain was getting foggy again. My nap hadn’t been enough to catch up on my sleep. I started heading to the hotel.

  I really couldn’t do anything. The dictator wasn’t going to change his mind and I wasn’t going to start a civil war.

  As long as I hadn’t offended Xing too much, I could enjoy a nice little vacation then go home. I had been bold with the President, but not so much that I thought he’d send his hit squad.

  As I approached the hotel door I had wasn’t so sure. A police officer walked from the station across the street and went in just behind me. President Xing had been busy with his show when I left, but maybe he’d yelled instructions to Min.

  I went straight for the stairs. As I got to them, I looked back to see that the officer had stopped at the front desk.

  Once in my room, I changed into comfortable clothes. If I was going to sit in jail I didn’t need to be dressed in a suit. I packed my bags so that they could easily ship them back home after I’d been made to go missing.

  However, no one came to my door. I guessed it had been a fluke that the officer was here.

  I decided to look out my door to check just in case, and there he was coming down the hallway. I closed the door again then sat on my bed with my hands on my face. I waited, but no one knocked. Finally, I went to the door again and looked. No one was there.

  Relieved, I thought I should call Angela. Rather than messing with Skype, I picked up the phone and followed the written directions for international calls.

  “Hello,” said Angela. She had been asleep. I looked at my watch. It was almost 5:00pm here, so 5:00am at home.

  “It’s Neal,” I said. “I made it.”

  “Good,” she said. “Hey, it’s 5:00am here.”

  “Is it? I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m messed up by the time changes.

  “Was your flight good?”

  “Long,” I said. I didn’t tell her about the plane dancing between the waves.

  “How’s Melanie?” I asked.

  “Asleep,” replied Angela groggily.

  “Good,” I said.

  “Do you think you’ll be long?”

  “No,” I said. “I bet I can leave in a couple days.”

  “Okay,” she said with finality.

  “Okay then, goodbye,” I said. “Love you.”

  “Love you.” We hung up.

  I laid back in my bed and closed my eyes. I woke up twelve hours later still dressed in my clothes. Through the window I saw a few streaks of light in the sky.

  I was famished. I didn’t remember the last time that I’d eaten. I checked the hotel pamphlet to see that breakfast was at 6:00 a.m.

  I wondered if chewing gum would tide me over, but I worried that the dictator would send his minions to pull it out of my mouth. I took my time changing into fresh clothes and grooming.

  Then I went for a walk because I thought that it’d take my mind off my stomach. I went out the pool door. A haze hung over the water in the cove. A couple people were out in rowboats.

  Yesterday after meeting the President, my mind had been too cloudy to think much about what he’d said. It sounded like he had total control despite being called a President. If he had been elected, he was likely the only one who had run.

  The President had said that he didn’t allow the church to offer sacraments because he was protecting his people from too many conflicting opinions. Life was confusing. It would certainly be easier to be told what to do and to think.

  Did that make sense? I knew with my young daughter, it was better if I was clear with rules. If I waffled with too many exceptions she would be frustrated and not know what Angela and I expected from her. When she grew older we could allow more flexibility.

  Was Xing being a good parent to his people? I looked back at the two boats in the cove. The residents lived a simple life. They had no cellphones, and very few cars. Choices might not mean much to them.

  However, I thought that Xing’s policies were more likely created for his own benefit. If no one was allowed to challenge him, then he was safe as their leader and in total control. If he started permitting people to do what they wanted, he’d have to deal with dissention.

  I headed back to the hotel. It wasn’t time yet for breakfast, but I was so hungry
that I wanted to raid the snack bar or candy machines if they had them.

  I went to the main entrance, eyeing the police station as I went past. An officer was sitting on a chair in front, but he wasn’t the same man that I’d seen yesterday.

  Jing-Sheng was at the hotel desk. He was settling in and a female attendant was leaving.

  “Good morning,” I said to both.

  “Good morning,” replied Jing-Sheng.

  “What day is this?” I asked.

  “Saturday, the fifteenth of May.”

  “Okay,” I said. “What time does breakfast open on Saturday?” I tried to pretend that I was unsure.

  “Not for twenty minutes, but help yourself if anything is set out yet.”

  “Thank you,” I said and went to the café.

  A woman was arranging a buffet. Several platters were out, but it wasn’t set up.

  The server noticed me but kept her head low. Her ID said, “Mei.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hello,” she said in accented voice.

  “May I snack on something while you finish setting up?” I asked. She stood without acknowledging my answer. She stared at the food. It was as if she was saying, “Does it look ready?” “Jing-Sheng said that I could begin breakfast if it was out.” However, I was becoming weak and might even faint if I didn’t eat.

  She nodded, so I grabbed a plate and a pastry. I sat and slowly nibbled on it to tide me over until the buffet was set up.

  Once the buffet was set up there were lots of different foods to choose from. I still hadn’t seen any other hotel guests. It was a lot of food to put out for just me.

  After I ate I went back to my room. It was 6:30 a.m. which would be a very good time to call my family.

  I fiddled with the Wi-Fi and Skype for a while and finally got both working. Angela opened my online call.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Did you get much done today?” she asked.

  “I slept the whole day. It’s a twelve hour difference. I just ate breakfast.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  “I plan on using today to write up my report. Unless I think of anything, I’ll be headed home.”

  “Great.”

  “Is Melanie there?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Angela replied, and then she called her. In the background, I heard her say to Melanie, “Your daddy’s on the computer phone.”

  “Hi daddy,” said my daughter. She came into view.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’ll probably go swimming later. They have a pool and an ocean.”

  “I want to swim, too.”

  “Talk to mom about it.”

  “Thanks,” said Angela sarcastically. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to call because of the time difference. At least I’ll let you know if I’m on my way.”

  “Okay,” she said. Then we said our goodbyes. I was glad that I could talk to them, even just a short conversation. While on the Wi-Fi, I checked email from work.

  Then, I started working out how I’d tell the church administration that my attempt to reach out had been a failure. I spent a long time staring at the wall and not coming up with a good way to do it.

  I could explain the facts, but that wouldn’t make it easy for them to accept. A letdown like that might reflect back on me. I had thought the bad apples in the administration had all retired, but there could be a few left that were looking for excuses to point a finger at me.

  Maybe there was another way to approach it. If I got lay people outraged about the dictator’s actions, they’d see how fixing this was beyond what could be done by one person on a short visit.

  That would be unfortunate for the believers on the island. I wondered if there was a church building on the island and if the believers lived next to it. That would be the only way to find them and see what they felt. All I could do was to tell their story to others.

  I decided to write an editorial to an international church-related magazine. First, I let my frustration loose and wrote whatever I wanted to vent. Then, I went back and organized it into a more professional article.

  If President Xing read the magazine, he would be outraged. However, there was no chance that it was on his reading list. Besides that, it would be a couple weeks before the next issue came out and I’d be out of the country before that. However, I needed to get the article sent because it would be too late if I waited until I got home. My employer would be looking for a report by that time.

  I submitted my writing to the magazine editor for review. Sometimes, I felt that I should wait before sending things out too quickly. It would give me a chance to double check grammar and reconsider my points. Nevertheless, I liked the feeling of accomplishment of sending things out and being done with it.

  I looked at my watch. The hotel would be serving lunch now. I’d had a big breakfast and wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t want to miss it, so I put on my shoes. I hated being under someone else’s control about when I ate.

  As I opened my door I saw Mei, the café staff, handing a food tray to an older man across the hall.

  I followed Mei back to the café. No one was there. It pleased me that I wasn’t the only guest, but still I had no one to keep me company if the other guest ate in his room.

  The food looked good, but I didn’t recognize much of it. However, I felt more willing to eat adventurously at lunch than I had at breakfast.

  I felt alone. When Mei came to check the platters, I spoke to her.

  “Are there many guests at the hotel? I saw you with a man.”

  She moved backwards and away one step, and she dropped her head even lower.

  “Jing-Sheng is the appropriate person to answer your questions,” she replied.

  I took her reply to mean that she was shy. I didn’t need to pry about the other guest.

  After lunch I decided to stop at the front desk and ask about the pool. I thought that it was better to swim in the pool than the cove because I didn’t need to give the sharks an excuse to come after me. I wanted to ask about the pool. This island had many rules and I didn’t want to break them. At the pool, they were written in Chinese.

  “Lunch was great,” I said to Jing-Sheng. “You can complement the hostess for me.”

  “I will.”

  “Is the pool open?” I asked

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anything I need to know before swimming?”

  “No, you are fine,” he said with a smile.

  I nodded and went to my room. I did a few things on my computer before putting on my trunks and going to swim.

  Floating in the water, I was thinking about the islanders. As little as I have done, at least I should attempt to reach out to believers. Since tomorrow was Sunday, it seemed like the perfect time to walk past the church and see if anyone noticed me there.

  Still, I might not even recognize it. However, in a small town like this, Jing-Sheng would know where it is at. After I showered and changed clothes, I went back to the desk to talk to him.

  “Jing-Sheng,” I said, “I would like to pray to my God tomorrow on the Holy Day. Is there a church that I can go to?”

  “No, you should pray in your room,” he said. Atypically, his head was down.

  “Was there ever a church here? I am curious about what it might have looked like.”

  “You don’t need to go there,” he said with a discouraging tone.

  “I would like to see it. It would make me a happy patron of the hotel.”

  “It is a long walk—five kilometers,” he said. That was about three miles. Maybe I could get a ride.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Where is it?” He thought for a moment before responding.

  “It’s east on Flamingo Road, and in the Village of New Truro.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Also, do you know if there
are any taxis?”

  “None,” he said. “There’s little reason to go out of town.” I nodded.

  “Thank you,” I said, and I went back to my room. Except for supper, I spent the rest of the day there.

  New Truro would be a long walk, but not a problem for me. I wondered if the people there spoke English. It would be a wasted six mile round trip if they didn’t.

  Before it became late, I grew tired. I had woken early, so I prepared for bed.

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