Part 41: Quid Pro Quo

Seth kicked the sand as he walked the beach. He found himself looking at the sand and then back to the ocean, then back to the sand and keep repeating. Where was the rescue boat? He didn’t want to stay here. He wanted to go back home. He missed his family and he missed his girlfriend. Some vacation this turned out to be.

Back down the beach he saw Mia talking to John. She seemed still upset. The island was getting worse for her, he thought. She was still dreaming about that bald guy she never met before. Then it seemed she heard whispering in the jungle and spotted three men by the jungle line. The stress was getting bad for her to the point where she was hallucinating.

Seth then saw his other comrade Brendon down the beach. He had a long thin stick and was swinging it around like a sword. The young man couldn’t help but notice that he seemed rather good at. Brendon held it like a sword and the way he twirled it, it seemed like he was a master at it. “Dude, who are you?” he asked.

Brendon stopped his practice and looked at Seth. He was confused by such an open ended question. “You mediate instead of resting” Seth pointed, “And now you are twirling that stick like you’ve handled it all your life.”

“I’m just practicing my Kendo.” He said.

“So . .you are good with a sword then?”

“You could say that.”

“How long have you been doing that?” Seth asked.

Brendon smiled, placing the stick over his shoulder. “Seth, do you know what Quid Pro Quo is?”

“Uh . .Quid Pro . . .wait, didn’t Hannibal mention that in Silence of the Lambs?” the young man asked.

“Yes,” Brendon laughed, “It means, if you ask a question, then I am allowed to ask one before you ask another one. Shall we do that?”

“Why not, I am bored outta my mind.” Seth smiled, crossing his arms.

“Very well. I have been practicing Kendo since I was 12. Now, tell me why you wear that ratty military jacket?”

“This jacket belonged to my dad. He was a Vietnam vet. Why were you in Australia?”

“I was living there. Is your father still alive?”

“No. He died three years ago. How about you? Got any family waiting for you?”

“Not a single one now. Who do you have waiting for you?”

“My girlfriend Tanya. What did you mean by not a single one now?”

“My Uncle died. He was my last remaining relative. What do you do for a living?”

“I work at a bookstore but I . . .” Seth paused.

Brendon paused in his twirling of his stick. He looked at the boy who looked around, almost as if he was making sure no one was listening. The young Asian man then walked over to Seth smiling. “It’s all right, Seth,” he whispered, “Whatever you were about to tell me, if you don’t wish to, you don’t have to.”

“Thanks,” Seth sighed, “I don’t want you to think I am stupid.”

“I don’t think that.” Brendon smiled.

Before Seth could say anything, he heard the grunting of an old man behind them. It was Cecil Walker, the one the others called Sawyer. He was coughing and putting a cigarette in his mouth. “They are looking for volunteers to go retrieve water,” he coughed, “Why don’t you two go do that?”

“Yeah, “ Seth sighed, “We could do that.”

“Why didn’t you volunteer, Cecil?” asked Brendon.

“Because I would have a massive breathing problem if I walked into that humid jungle.”

“Perhaps it would help if you gave up smoking?”

“Perhaps it would help if you kissed my ass.”

Seth gasped at the rude remark from the old man who kept walking down the beach. Brendon gazed at him with squinted eyes. “If I didn’t know better, “ the Asian whispered, “It would seem that that old man is trying to make people hate him.”

“Well, he’s very good at it.” Seth grunted.