Mama's Boy and Other Dark Tales Read Free

elder women. Soaked to the skin, Simon slogged through the sand from villager to villager, without success. Curiously, he noticed the mild trance state the natives were experiencing and suspected the cause was a narcotic effect from the leathery slivers of bark being distributed for chewing. Each time a piece was passed to him, he tucked it away into one of his vest pockets—an excellent addition to his research samples. Some of the villagers appeared more lucid, always the elders it seemed, and when he approached them they kissed his cheeks in the custom of gratitude, which perplexed Simon. Still, none stopped to offer assistance for his journey or explain what the ceremony was about. Most simply smiled, pointed in the direction of the path leading into the jungle, and returned their attention to the ceremony. Everyone, it seemed, had their part.
    With no guide, Simon knew that precious time was ticking away. He feared the storm that brought the bodies to shore might wash them back into the surf with the changing tide. With the wind-blown rain stinging his face, he slumped down on a fallen palm trunk. The sound of the pounding drums wrapped around him, intensifying his weariness from his long months on the island. He had sacrificed much of his life for his career. So much time lost with his late wife, Karen. She'd believed in him and his work. An uncommon pang of regret rang in his heart, and he pushed it away as he always did. But the estrangement from his son, Ethan, was a shadow that kept his guilt fresh, sapping his energy, his hope, and what vigor was left for his work. But this trip to the island was a gift. A few of his old supporters at the Foundation still believed him. This was his last chance to salvage his career before he was doomed to a dull academic life in the classroom of a third-rate university.
    The morose attitude wasn't helping, so Simon shoved away his old concerns and buried the feelings—a skill he had honed since childhood. This was the break he'd been waiting for, and he needed to stay focused. The emergence of this undocumented ceremony alone was a huge breakthrough—but the forms on the beach? Such an event would put the anthropology community, not to mention the world, in a frenzy. He had to get this right. He had to get to those cliffs.
    From his place on the log, Simon spotted Koma's son working on a shelter. Paulo, like most of the villagers, spoke English; a legacy of deceased missionaries and an odd number of reported shipwreck survivors evidenced by the graves of the haole , the white men, outside the village. Forcing his weary mind and body back into action, Simon approached the slender young man. He appeared more clear-eyed than the other villagers. With renewed hope, Simon reached up to hold a palm frond in place against the wind as the young man fastened it down.
    "Paulo, I need your help.” He raised his voice over the noise of the storm and the escalating sound of the drums. “I need a guide to the cliffs. Can you take me?"
    " Pahulu Pali ?” He shook his head. “Oh no, Father would be angry, Mr. Simon."
    "Come on, Paulo, I'm sure your father wouldn't mind if you helped me out,” he lied.
    The boy hesitated. He'd followed Simon around like a puppy for months, fascinated by his work, his tools, and his foreign mannerisms. Simon knew he would do almost anything he asked.
    "I sorry. No can help you.” He looked away, lowering his eyes.
    Simon's temper flared— What the hell is wrong with these people? I just want to get up to the damn cliffs! He took a deep breath and struggled to calm himself.
    "I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to ask you to do something that scared you. After all, you're just a boy.” He didn't like manipulating the boy, but he was desperate.
    Paulo stood tall, raising his chin as he spoke. “I am nearly grown. I not scared!"
    Simon felt a pang—Paulo was so much like his own son, Ethan. Vexed by the intrusion of these feelings long buried, he pressed on.
    "Then