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paper."
    She smirked, realizing the cruel joke behind
his reply. "Speaking of toilet paper. . ."
    He stood up and gestured to the cave
entrance. "Follow me, Jessica, and I'll show you the, uh,
bathroom."
    Yes , she decided, I am in
hell .
    Outside the cave there was a large patch of
multi-shaded green plants. He showed her the beaten entrance with
the same enthusiasm as a gas attendant pointing to a dirty john.
She didn't ask for toilet paper, fearing his answer, she just went
to it.
    Minutes later she emerged from the plant
enclosure holding her nose.
    Her face was turning green. "The smell! Ohhh,
disgusting."
    "You'll get used to it."
    "It smells worse than an outhouse. I never
thought anything could smell worse than an outhouse."
    "It's this way back to the cave." He gestured
for her to take his hand and she declined. She was disgusted that
he would even want to touch her hand after she'd gone to the
bathroom.
    "I need to wash first," she said.
    "The ocean is wonderful for cleansing," he
said. "But if you get a cut, watch out. Then the bitch gets
cranky."
    He led her through a long ravine passage. She
tried to learn what directions they were twisting and turning but
it was futile. She was not a woodsman. She told herself, like it or
not, she would have to stick close to Dick. She would not know what
to do if she got lost in the woody labyrinth.
    "How big is this island?"
    "I figure it's roughly four square miles. Not
that big. Still plenty big enough to get lost in, if you know what
I mean."
    "Don't worry, I have no intention of running
away."
    "That's comforting. I promise that in not too
long you'll get to know your way around here."
    The strength and confirmation in that thought
made her shiver.
    In another five minutes he peeled back a bush
and showed her a long sandy beach.
    "This is the southwest beach. The one you
washed in on. Go ahead and wash your hands, I'll wait for you
here."
    Jessica moved slowly toward the incoming
tide, her naked feet sinking into the warm sand. Soon the beach
beneath her feet grew damp and slimy, the perfect boundary for this
hell-island. She knelt down as the tide rushed in, getting deeper
around her until the icy tide filled up to her ankles. She washed
her hands in the ocean while staring out at the violent waves
crashing a football field's distance away. The tide rolled back out
and she studied it for a long, ponderous moment. She trudged back
up the beach where Dick was waiting, feeling no relief. She still
felt something amiss. This wasn't one of those countless romance
novel islands where peace and tranquility reign.
    Dick was sitting down on the beach when she
returned. "So, are you ready to finish your story?"
    She sat down next to him. "My story?" she
stared off in the distance, still disoriented.
    "You were at San Francisco, and the fact that
you're, um, very rich."
    Very rich, ha! Even armed with her
miraculous credit cards—which had saved her from many a terrible
tragedy—she couldn't buy her way out of this. Let me put a
bathroom with deluxe shower head on my Mastercard, please .
    "We left for Hawaii," she said, locking eyes
on the ocean once again. "And, like what happened on your fishing
trip, the big storm came. I kept telling Edward we should turn
back. The Coast Guard had given warnings. But Edward, well, he's
stubborn. The storm came and—and the boat capsized."
    She didn't realize tears were streaming down
her face. Dick laid a gentle hand on her knee.
    She turned from the ocean swells and shot
Dick a stare. "Do you think there's any chance. . .that Edward is
still alive?"
    Dick looked away. "You know, it looks like
it's going to be a nice day."
    "Not the ignoring thing again, please." She
wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. "Just give it to me
straight."
    "Sorry." Dick paused. "Okay, I'll say this,
if you survived, he might have survived too. He might have—"
    Jessica was too immersed with self-pity to
pursue where Dick was going with that statement.
    The