◆◆◆
Berendt lay covered in dirt, his right hand and arm the only thing above ground besides his head. His hand and arm were stretched and tied to a small tree, the rope around his wrist. The tree was behind his head, out of view. Each time he pulled his hand and arm toward himself the small tree bent, leaning forward, but the rope tightened around his wrist pulling tighter and tighter the knot. He would have to be careful. If the knot tightened too much, he wouldn’t be able to work it loose with his teeth. He managed to manipulate his fingers above the knot and gain control of the rope higher up. He pulled slowly, bending the sapling forward. He managed to get a better hold on the rope. He pulled some more and his grip became firmer. After a while, he was able to get enough play that he managed to get hold of the knot with his teeth. It was tough going at first, but after about forty minutes or so he loosened the knot enough to free his hand. Percy hadn’t left it so it would be impossible for Berendt to work free; he had just needed to work it so he, himself, had plenty of time to get to the boat and row away.
Berendt used his now freed right hand to begin scooping dirt away from where his left arm and hand were buried. The left hand was close enough to the surface that after a few minutes of difficult work, he had it free also, along with his left arm. His whole body wasn’t even that deep. He had been buried just deep enough to keep him immobile while Percy made his escape. Now that his left hand and arm were loose, Berendt could reach just enough to get his fingers on the shovel and drag it to him. The shovel had been within only inches of his reach. He just couldn’t get it with one hand buried and the other tied off to the tree. There’s no doubt that the man had been crazy; but all the same, Percy was a crafty ol’ codger. Berendt used the shovel to scrape dirt off and out of the way. After an hour or so longer, and with a great deal of work, Berendt could wriggle around and use the shovel a bit more. Soon enough after that, he was able to work himself up and out from beneath the rest of the dirt. It crumbled and fell from him now as he stood. Berendt could see the edge of the chest, still in the hole. Percy had taken out a good bit of the treasure while he had had Berendt more securely tied off to another tree. Percy gathered three bags full, ‘one for each of us,’ he had said. Of course, he had meant himself, Ketchum, and Steele. Berendt wondered what had happened to Steel. That one had been silent the whole time. He figured that Ketchum had been there, still early on, at least until Percy got hold of where the treasure was hidden. The fourth part of the treasure, that still in the chest, was left for Berendt; or so Percy had claimed. He said he was a fair man. And Berendt thought that true to an extent. The man had shown Berendt where the cave was with the supplies from the ship that had sunk; the one that had left him, or ‘them’ marooned on the island. Berendt decided that it was probably, as the doctor had said, only one man stranded initially; the others came later, materializing in an unsound mind.
In the cave there had been plenty of goat meat, and other foodstuffs, even an extra bow and set of arrows. Berendt figured he wouldn’t need it all He reasoned a search party would be sent out for him and the doctor in a matter of days. The ship was only an island or two away. Berendt thought that there was even a chance that Percy was rowing directly toward the island where the ship was located. When the others saw the boat, they would be able to recognize it as the one Berendt and the doctor had left in. However, the others would soon see that Percy was crazy; and then whatever ramblings came out the insane man would hopefully, somehow lead them to this island and Berendt. He hoped. Or would Ketchum keep that locked away tight, just as he had with the treasure’s location?
After freeing himself from the hole, Berendt made his way back down to the beach. It was a long hike, but warranted. He came upon the doctor’s body. The doctor was now naked. Percy had taken his clothes. Percy’s rags lay in a small pile beside the doctor. Berendt looked out across the waves, shielding his eyes from the sun. Nothing. There wasn’t any sign of the man or boat. He thought he saw a speck of something in the distance, but then it disappeared from sight; Probably his imagination. He figured he should probably bury the doctor. He hadn’t, however, thought to bring the shovel with him. He then decided that it would be best to cart the body back up to the site of the treasure, and use that hole for Doc’s burial. It would save him digging a new hole. He picked up the naked body and affixed it across his shoulders. This wasn’t easy. The weight of the body felt to be much more than what he guessed the man had weighed in life. The body had also begun to stiffen. He trudged along, thinking . . . Perhaps Percy hadn’t actually left the island. Maybe there was some larger, more intricate game in the man’s mind.
◆◆◆
Three years later
John Berendt sat rocking slowly back and forth, his arms draped around his knees. On occasion he would pick up the spyglass, the same one that had been used by Ketchum the first day he had seen him. He chuckled and looked to his left. “How about you, Ketchum? See anything?” It had started as a joke, early on. But now he spoke to him more often, much as a child might speak to an imaginary friend.
Berendt, as often as not, would venture to the other side of the island, to where Steele would keep watch. “How about you, Steele, anything?” He could see Steele sitting there. The man would simply shake his head. Berendt would sigh, lift the glass and look; nothing in sight except billowy clouds floating across the sky, the ocean beneath. He would drop the glass to his side, and with his other hand stroke his long beard. The wind would play and shift in his long and stringy hair. The breeze was stronger here, as the ground rose a bit higher on this side. Though the winds generally rode in from this direction and swirled about in the cove below.
“What’s that you say Doc?” He walked over and picked up the doctor’s skull. There was still a bit of sinew hanging from the jaw. Berendt rubbed a bit of the dangling piece away. “We should probably clean you up a bit.”
He had buried the doctor on that first day, right there in the same hole as the chest. But there had been something, months later, probably in the second year or so, caused him to question things. Had all of it happened? Had there been a treasure? Had the doctor been killed? And so, he had dug the dirt out of the hole once again. He then kept the Doc’s skull out. He had opened the treasure chest and looked. The treasure, what was left of it, had still been there. He heard Percy’s laugh then also. He shoveled the dirt back into the hole. The doctor’s skull he had carried to the cave. There he had set it on a crate and left it. And there it stayed for a long while. Someone sensible to talk to, he thought at the time.
Berendt slept and ate in the cave a lot of times; other times there was a small clearing where he built a fire and cooked. He had learned to use the bow and arrows. He wasn’t as proficient as Percy had been, but he did okay. He would have to make more arrows. That part he had managed easy enough. And yes, he would go up to the lookout points, to where Ketchum had been, and to where Steele had sat.
And he would speak to them. Sometimes they would respond. And there would be times when other voices would speak, mostly whispers. He would look around, thinking someone was there, that they had just walked up on him. At times there would be the nervousness, as though someone were watching him. Sometimes he wondered if perhaps Percy had returned. Other times he speculated on what had happened to Percy; and to the ship that he had been certain would set out in search of him and the doctor when the two of them hadn’t returned. There never had been any sign of either, Percy and the boat, or the ship from the other island.
◆◆◆
Berendt, standing on the cliff, looking seaward, turns suddenly, still holding the doctor’s skull. “Who’s there?” He looks around. No one. Nothing. Nothing but the breeze. A bit of Berendt’s stringy hair rises up in the soft breeze and then lays gently back down onto his shoulder once the gale moves past. His eyes look wild and frightened. “Oh,” he says, realizing that the whisper is only in his mind, the voice. He wonders for a second who it is, if the whisper has a name . . . “Talk to me,” he mumbles.