Christopher Moore - Island of the Sequined Love Nun

He made his way quickly up the path and soon he could see a glow near Sarapul’s house. He broke into the clearing and saw the old cannibal and Kimi sitting around a fire, working on something. Sewing, it looked like.

“Kimi,” Tuck said, “you shouldn’t be up.”

Kimi looked up from his work. There was a huge piece of blue nylon draped over his and Sarapul’s laps. “I feel better. You fixed me, boss.”

Tuck handed him the pills. “Take two of these now and two a day until they’re gone.”

“Sarapul give me kava. It make the hurt stop.”

“These aren’t for the hurt. These are for infection. Take them, okay?”

“Okay, boss. You want to help?”

“What are you guys making?”

“I’ll show you.” Kimi started to rise and his face twisted with pain.

Sarapul pushed him back down. “I will show.” The old cannibal snatched up the kerosene lantern and gestured for Tuck to follow him into the jungle.

Tuck looked back at Kimi. “You take those pills. And don’t move around much, I’m not sure how well those stitches will hold. You had a big hole in you.”

“Okay, boss.”

Sarapul disappeared into the jungle. Tuck ran after him and almost ran him over coming out of a patch of small banana trees into an area that cleared into walking trees, mangroves, and palms. About fifty yards ahead, Sarapul stopped near the beach. He stood by what appeared to be a large fallen tree, but when Tuck got closer

he saw it was a long sailing canoe. Sarapul grinned up at Tuck, the light from the lamp making him appear like some demon from the dark island past. “The palu —the navigator—he make. I help.” Sarapul ran the light down the length of the canoe. Tuck could see that one of the tall gunwales was darkened and glazed with age, while the other had been hewn recently and was bright yellow. He could smell the fresh wood sap.

There was an outrigger the size of a normal canoe and a platform across the struts. As canoes went, it was a huge structure, and hewing the hull from a single piece of wood with hand tools had taken an incredible amount of work, not to mention skill.

“Kimi did this? This is gorgeous.”

Sarapul nodded, his eyes catching the fire of the lamp. “This boat broken since before the time of Vincent. Kimi is great navigator.”

“He is?” Tuck had his doubts, given the storm, but then again, as Kimi had said, they had survived a typhoon in a rowboat. And this craft was no accident; this was a piece of art. “So you guys are sewing a sail for this?”

“We finish soon. Then palu will teach me to sail. The Shark People will go to sea again.”

“Where’d you get the nylon for the sail? I can’t see Dr. Curtis thinking this is a good idea.”

Sarapul climbed into the canoe and dug under a stack of paddles and lines, each hand-braided from coconut fiber, until he came up with a tattered mass of nylon straps, Velcro, and plastic buckles with a few shreds of blue nylon hanging here and there.

“My pack. You guys used my pack?”

“And tent inside.”

“Do you have the stuff that was inside? There were some pills that can help Kimi.”

Sarapul nodded. He led Tuck back through the jungle to his house. Kimi had gone inside and was lying down.

“Boss, I don’t feel so good.”

“Hang on. I might have some more medicine.” Actually, Tuck had never been sure of all the things that Jake Skye had loaded into the pack.

Sarapul retrieved a palm frond basket from the rafters and handed it to Tucker. Tuck found the antibiotics he had been looking for, as well as painkillers and aspirin. Even what was left of his cash was in the basket. All the pills were still dry. Tuck doled out a dose

and handed them to the navigator. “Take these when you have pain, and

these take like the other ones, twice a day, okay?”

“You good doctor, boss.”

“You did a hell of a job on that boat.”

Kimi seemed distressed. “You not tell Sorcerer or Vincent’s white bitch.”

“No, I won’t tell them.”

Kimi seemed to breathe easier. “Roberto come today. He say you must see the canoe. But he say you should no tell the Sorcerer.”

“Roberto told you that.”

“He talk funny now,” Kimi said. “Like you, kinda. In American. He tell me Sepie is okay. She come home soon.”

“I couldn’t get in to see her. There was a guard on the clinic.”

“Dog fuckers,” Kimi said.

Then Tuck told the navigator about the golf game and watched as the old cannibal held him while he laughed, then curled with pain. “I better sleep now, boss. You come back. I take you sailing.”

“You got it.” Tuck backed out of the house and waited until Sarapul joined him with the lamp. “You know which pills to give him?”

Sarapul nodded. Tuck started down the path toward the village, but pulled up a minute later when he heard the cannibal running after him.

“Hey, pilot. Vincent send you to us, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“You tell Vincent I wasn’t going to eat you. Okay?”

Tuck smiled. “I’ll try to smuggle you some Spam next time I come.”

Sarapul smiled back.

As he came up on the drinking circle, Tuck stopped and checked his watch. He didn’t want to be gone more than a couple of hours. There was little danger that he’d be called to fly, at least not without the warning appear-ance of the Sky Priestess, but Beth Curtis might show up at his bungalow at any time. Funny, he didn’t think of the Sky Priestess and Beth as the same person.

The Shark men were applying new coats of red paint to their bamboo rifles by the light of a kerosene lamp. They moved around on the logs and Tuck took a seat by Malink. Without a word, the

young man who was pouring handed Tuck the cup. He drained it and

handed it back.

“What’s the deal with the rifles?” Tuck asked Malink.

“Vincent’s army,” Malink said. “Vincent said we must always be ready to fight the enemies of the United States of America.”

“Oh,” Tuck said. “Why red?”

Malink looked at Tuck as if he was something he had stepped in. “It is the color of Vincent’s brother.”

“Yeah?” Tuck didn’t get it.

“Vincent’s brother, Santa Claus. Red is his color. You must know that.”

Tuck couldn’t help it. He let his mouth fall open. “Santa Claus is Vincent’s brother?”

“Yes, Santa Claus brings excellent cargo for everyone, but only once a year. He comes in a sleigh on the snow. You know, right?”

“Right. But I don’t get the connection.”

Malink looked as if it was all he could do not to tell Tuck how incredibly dense he really was. “Well, we have no snow, so Vincent will come in a plane. Not once a year. When Vincent come, he will bring cargo every day. More than he gives through the Sky Priestess. More than Santa Claus.”

“And Vincent told you this, that he was Santa’s brother?”

Malink nodded. “His skinny brother, he say. So we make rifles red.” Malink watched for signs that Tuck was getting it. Tuck wasn’t giving them. “Even Father Rodriguez know about Santa Claus,” Malink insisted.

“Okay,” Tuck said, “how about moving that cup around the circle a little faster, guys?”

“Vincent will bring us real rifles when he come. We must be always ready to fight,” Malink said.

“Who?” Tuck asked. “Have you guys ever been attacked?”

“Once,” Malink said. “When I was boy, some guys from New Guinea come in canoe. We no like those guys. We go in our canoes to kill them.”

“And what happened?”

“It got dark.”

“And?”

“We come home. Those guys from New Guinea pretty lucky no one know how to navigate in the dark.”