Richard DuBois - Last Resort

In the early evening, I take my usual post along the edge of the lagoon. Scanning the opposite side of the lagoon for intruders, my attention draws, instead, to the resort. Shouts erupt, followed by Rhodesia’s wails. I cannot tell who is causing all the commotion, but several torches converge on a spot near the resort fitness center. Hurrying to the scene, I find what appears to be the entire resort gathered around Nelson and Curtis.

Bob and Dean hold Dellas by both arms. She struggles against them, doing a good job of it, too, while Rhodesia cries. The crowd parts as Conner and Robby stride through. Conner holds his axe.

I stand in front of Bob and Dean and order them to let Dellas go.

“She broke the law,” Dean grunts as he wrestles Dellas.

Bob addresses Conner. “We caught her sneaking food to Nelson and Curtis.”

Muscles in Conner’s face ripple in the torch light as he clenches and unclenches his jaw.

“This is crazy!” Nelson exclaims.

“No,” Conner is emphatic. “This is survival. Ours versus yours. The time has come for you to leave the resort.”

“Oooooh, banishment. How dreadful,” Curtis says with heavy sarcasm and shirks free of Bob’s grip.

Conner seems on the verge of planting his axe in Curtis’s skull. I quickly step between them and face Conner. “Wait! Listen to me. You can’t send them from the resort. It’s a death sentence.”

Conner slaps the wooden axe hilt into his open palm. “Would you like to join them?”

“Conner, no,” Gwen rests a restraining hand on Conner’s arm.

He vacillates for a moment, then shrugs her hand aside and points at me, “Don’t interfere. The rules have got to be enforced. I told Dellas not to give food to these two queers; she did it anyway. Now she’s got to go, and her kid, too. They shouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

Dean reaches for Rhodesia, but Pamela grabs her first, her eyes blazing with fury.

Nelson throws up his hands. “Fine. Fine. We will leave, but Dellas must stay. Don’t punish her. We pressured her into giving us food. The blame is entirely ours.”

I whisper in his ear. “What’re you doing? Don’t let them push you around like this. We can force them to allow you to stay.”

Nelson puts a hand on my shoulder as a father would when he is about to impart some wisdom to his son. “Yes, we could fight, Phillip, and we might prevail, but if we lose then Dellas loses, too. No, it’s better this way. We’ll go, without a fight, but only if Dellas stays.”

“You won’t survive out there,” I implore.

Nelson shrugs wearily. “We’re not surviving here, either. Maybe it’s just as well that we take our chances outside the resort.”

Nelson turns to Curtis who weeps by his side. “You understand why we have to do this?”

Curtis nods and Nelson takes Curtis’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“So do we have a deal, then?” Nelson addresses the whole resort. “We leave now—no further debate—but Dellas remains.”

Conner glances at Pamela. She will not release Rhodesia without a huge battle, but Pamela is not the deciding factor. Conner looks to Gwen, her eyes fraught with worry, and she gives the slightest nod telling Conner to accept the deal.

“Dellas stays; the queers go. Robby, row them across the lagoon,” Conner commands, and then speaking specifically to Curtis and Nelson. “If you try to return we will kill you on sight.”

Nelson leads Curtis towards the rowboat. “You needn’t worry about that. We won’t be coming back.”

Pamela places Rhodesia in her mother’s arms. Conner pulls Gwen to the side, whispering something to her to which she nods solemnly.

Nearly everyone in the resort gathers to see Bob row Curtis and Nelson across the lagoon. I remain behind. Jonas stands behind a large potted plant, probably trying to hide from view. Our eyes meet. He has the same expression as mine—the look of frightened men who see injustice and are helpless to prevent it.

It is midnight. On patrol, I complete a circuit that carries me from the bungalows lining the beach to the lagoon in the nature preserve and back again. A full moon lights my path.

“Phillip.”

It is Gwen, crouching in the bushes between two bungalows.

“I can’t sleep, and I wanted to see you,” she whispers. “Where can we talk?”

I think of the nature preserve, but dread the mosquitoes.

“Let’s use the beach,” I suggest. “Nobody patrols there. We can sit on the sand where it drops off near the water and no one will see us.”

Once there, she touches her fingers to her lips in silent prayer, and then says, “I hope those two men will be all right.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, too. I’m so angry with myself for not putting a stop to it.”

She rests a hand on my wrist. “You did what you could. Conner was determined to get rid of them.”

“He wants to get rid of me, too.”

“I don’t know what I would do if you left. I couldn’t bear it.”

Her eyes search mine. In the moonlight, she seems impossibly fragile, like a delicate, porcelain figurine.

“I don’t understand, Gwen. We’re not together anymore. I know Conner wants you—”

“But I don’t want him,” she cuts me off. “You think just because Conner runs the resort and controls the food supply that I’d become his woman?”

She laughs ruefully. “Oh, Phillip. Sometimes I think you don’t know me at all. Look, I’m not mad at you. How could you know how much I have changed? Know this; I am not the same stupid woman who threw her marriage away for a fling. I had to lose everything to learn what I valued the most. Maybe the earlier Gwen would have met someone like Conner and been impressed, but not now. I know who I want to be with, and if I cannot have him then I’d just as soon have no one.”

At a loss for what to say, I tenderly brush a tendril of hair from her face. As she cups my hand to her face, her eyes search mine. It is difficult to breathe. My heart feels strangely giddy. Who is this woman standing before me? She is the Gwen I knew and loved, but now she is so much more. Hardship and loss has made her strong. There is a sense of self and a wisdom she did not have before.

I know who I want to be with, and if I cannot have him then I’d just as soon have no one.

Her words are a song echoing in my soul. Gwen loves only me. All bitterness has left my heart, replaced by a joyful curiosity. Even if it takes the rest of my life to do it, I must learn everything there is to know about this incredible woman standing before me.

I have a great idea.

“Stay here,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

I dash from the shoreline to my bungalow, stumble about my room in the dark, and at the back of my closet I find the long forgotten bottle of champagne given to us when we first arrived at the resort. I run back to Gwen and show her the bottle.

“But we don’t have glasses,” she says.

“That’s okay,” I pop the cork, swill from the foaming bottle, and pass it to her. “Warm champagne is better than none.”

“Phillip, I thought I’d never taste this again.”

Champagne dribbles over her chin and she wipes it with an embarrassed laugh. I laugh with her as we sit face to face, our bare feet entwined in the damp sand.

I hear the scratch of a match flaring to life, and turn to find Conner standing over us. He touches the match to ignite the torch he holds. My heart freezes.

“Robby!” Conner shouts, never removing his furious gaze from my face.

Gwen rises to her feet and steps in front of me. “Conner, now just calm dow—”

He pushes her to the side and snatches the half-empty bottle from my grasp.