Ambrose as he studied the mist, baffled by his expression. I couldn’t be certain, but Iwas willing to bet that every rock, every tree, every clump of grass and cute green turtle was covered with fog, smothered in the sinister earthbound cloud that smelled of sulfur and reawakened my fear of volcanoes. For the time being the sun was all but extinct. Twilight ruled, and would until true night fell. If the fog remained dense, we wouldn’t see the moon. And Ambrose seemed happy about it! Except that it was too utterly ridiculous to even consider, I might have assumed he had somehow arranged for the fog.
Every now and then something large splashed out in the water. That I couldn’t see it was only to be expected. After all, I was living in a horror movie, and those are the rules. The boogeyman is twice as scary if you can’t see him coming.
I smiled at my silliness. Still, even with Ambrose beside me and a scotch in my stomach, the unknown was troubling. And it remained so, no matter how often I told myself it was just the fish or some seabird hunting in the shallow waves. I vowed to my sniveling inner child that I would stay far back from the shoreline and move as silently as I could when I went back to my cottage so that no one would chase us through the fog.
If I went back to my cottage, that was. I was thinking earnestly about spending the night behind Ambrose’ thicker walls and metal shutters.
“I don’t smell anything.” He
was
pleased. I could hear it in his voice. He liked the damned fog.
And “anything”? That was code for
zombies
.
“Me either,” I answered. Unless you counted thenasty volcano smell. The candles’ flames seemed to dance drunkenly in their cut-crystal bowls, but it may have been a shortage of oxygen and not the wind that made them gutter. I realized that my chest hurt and I had to force myself to breathe. I did not need to have a cardiac event in front of everyone.
“Do you hear anything?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. I think we have a crocodile out there.”
“What?” I almost forgot to whisper.
“We get saltwater crocs sometimes. They swim over from the Solomons.”
“Are they big?” I asked fearfully.
Crocodile
, like
cancer
, is one of those words that invokes atavistic fear in most people. In this, I am wholly normal.
“Well…not especially. But this one is an eighteen-footer.”
“What?” Again I came close to shrieking, and this made him grin. I guess giant crocodiles aren’t scary if you’re immortal.
“Don’t worry. She’s staying offshore. She’ll probably head for the mangroves soon. Crocs don’t like people in large numbers. In a way she’s good news.”
“Yeah?” I sounded doubtful. Sorry, but to my way of thinking, an eighteen-foot crocodile roaming at large in thick fog just couldn’t be a good thing when you had tourists roaming too.
“She’s a sort of watchdog. Nothing is going to get past without her raising a huge ruckus.”
Raising a ruckus
. That was code for having Hell’s own fight. “And given this cold fog, I doubt anyone will be trysting on the beach, so we needn’t worry about any close encounters between reptiles and humans.Everyone will go from here to bed and then from bed to the plane.”
Trysting
. That’s on old-fashioned code word for…well, you know, right?
He sounded so sure of these facts that I almost demanded to know if the chef had put something other than Bordeaux in the wine sauce. I glanced at my lobster, wondering if it was glazed with sleeping pills.
“You’re a scary man, Ambrose.”
“I know.” And he stopped smiling.
“What did you tell the staff?” I asked. He lifted an enquiring brow “About why they have to leave so suddenly.”
“I told them there was a giant crocodile nesting in the mangroves and that we had to leave so that nature could safely take its course. They aren’t complaining. It’s happened before and they get paid for their time off.”
“She’s been here
Every now and then something large splashed out in the water. That I couldn’t see it was only to be expected. After all, I was living in a horror movie, and those are the rules. The boogeyman is twice as scary if you can’t see him coming.
I smiled at my silliness. Still, even with Ambrose beside me and a scotch in my stomach, the unknown was troubling. And it remained so, no matter how often I told myself it was just the fish or some seabird hunting in the shallow waves. I vowed to my sniveling inner child that I would stay far back from the shoreline and move as silently as I could when I went back to my cottage so that no one would chase us through the fog.
If I went back to my cottage, that was. I was thinking earnestly about spending the night behind Ambrose’ thicker walls and metal shutters.
“I don’t smell anything.” He
was
pleased. I could hear it in his voice. He liked the damned fog.
And “anything”? That was code for
zombies
.
“Me either,” I answered. Unless you counted thenasty volcano smell. The candles’ flames seemed to dance drunkenly in their cut-crystal bowls, but it may have been a shortage of oxygen and not the wind that made them gutter. I realized that my chest hurt and I had to force myself to breathe. I did not need to have a cardiac event in front of everyone.
“Do you hear anything?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. I think we have a crocodile out there.”
“What?” I almost forgot to whisper.
“We get saltwater crocs sometimes. They swim over from the Solomons.”
“Are they big?” I asked fearfully.
Crocodile
, like
cancer
, is one of those words that invokes atavistic fear in most people. In this, I am wholly normal.
“Well…not especially. But this one is an eighteen-footer.”
“What?” Again I came close to shrieking, and this made him grin. I guess giant crocodiles aren’t scary if you’re immortal.
“Don’t worry. She’s staying offshore. She’ll probably head for the mangroves soon. Crocs don’t like people in large numbers. In a way she’s good news.”
“Yeah?” I sounded doubtful. Sorry, but to my way of thinking, an eighteen-foot crocodile roaming at large in thick fog just couldn’t be a good thing when you had tourists roaming too.
“She’s a sort of watchdog. Nothing is going to get past without her raising a huge ruckus.”
Raising a ruckus
. That was code for having Hell’s own fight. “And given this cold fog, I doubt anyone will be trysting on the beach, so we needn’t worry about any close encounters between reptiles and humans.Everyone will go from here to bed and then from bed to the plane.”
Trysting
. That’s on old-fashioned code word for…well, you know, right?
He sounded so sure of these facts that I almost demanded to know if the chef had put something other than Bordeaux in the wine sauce. I glanced at my lobster, wondering if it was glazed with sleeping pills.
“You’re a scary man, Ambrose.”
“I know.” And he stopped smiling.
“What did you tell the staff?” I asked. He lifted an enquiring brow “About why they have to leave so suddenly.”
“I told them there was a giant crocodile nesting in the mangroves and that we had to leave so that nature could safely take its course. They aren’t complaining. It’s happened before and they get paid for their time off.”
“She’s been here
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