Chapter 9

It is an incontrovertible fact of fiction that all females who brush death immediately wish to reaffirm life by fucking the nearest male half to death.

More than that, I refuse to say.

Except...

Josie was pissed that I lost the casting rod.

The next morning, the harbor was filled with blood ... or red tide ... or something like it.

"Let's go for a hike," Josie said.

"Where to?"

"Any place up."

"There seems to be a flat spot on the side of the volcano," I pointed. It looked to be three or four hundred feet above the flat part of the rest of the sand.

"That'll work," Josie said. "Pack some water and some of this dried beef and boogie."

We grabbed what we could and headed up. There was an actual trail ... almost a road. It cut back and forth across the side of the mountain ... always going up. We made the flat and Josie said, "Look at that."

The water was leaving the harbor and the beach ... quite aways from shore ... maybe a mile ... out to the edge of deep water ... and a little past. It exposed the coral reef and several old wrecks.

The road kept going up and it seemed like a good idea for us to do the same ... so we did.

Then the mountain jerked ... sideways ... the whole island was moving ... really fast. It was hard to catch a breath ... like a vacuum in the place where the island wasn't ... but had been.

Offshore ... the water turned dark and began to boil. Denizens of the deep were being cooked on the spot ... we kept moving up.

There was a cave ... wasn't much ... but it seemed to be as good an idea as climbing ... so.

Then the sea started tossing rocks ... it was probably a mile and a half from our viewing place.

Red glowing rocks were tossed hundreds of feet in the air ... and more. Rocks the size of ships ... one crashed down on the..."Hey, Josie ... what direction it that?"

"East."

One crashed down on the far eastern end of the island. It was so hot that it felt blistering ... the paint probably saved us.

From out to the south a volcano appeared in the ocean spewing rocks like houses ... one flattened our little boat ... the dust and grit boiled up in the air ... higher than we could see ... the lightning rampaged in the dust and it started to rain mud.

The new island grew and grew ... our island was still sliding away to the north west ... but not as fast.

There was a huge jar and we stopped. That didn't stop the new island from growing taller and taller ... bigger and bigger ... and it stopped.

Then the wave came.

It scooped up the deep water wrecks and played toy boats with them. The beached sailboats were as matchsticks and the roof on our coral block house smashed into the side of our mountain.

"I'm going to sleep," I said.

"But..."

"Won't make a dimes worth of difference. We live or die and I'm exhausted."

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Sure thing."

I stepped out, grabbed a few of the remaining palm fronds, shook off the dust and mud, covered us and went to sleep.

Some time in the night the noise became comforting and I looked out.

The new island had stopped, the ocean steamed as it rushed to cool the new land. I heard a bird chirp nearby ... and another answered ... and another. The forest came alive. The cacophony was somehow pleasant. Life reaffirmed. I went back to sleep.

In the morning, Josie shook me.

"Come see," she asked.

Out of our little cave and around to the north side we discovered that our island had been pushed into the next island northwest.

And our mountain no longer smoked. There's probably a logical reason for it. But it's beyond me.

We explored.

Down on the beach, the offshore wrecks had lost their treasure. Gold ingots and silver coins were positively paving the beach.

We're rich!

Now we have to get somewhere we can spend it.