E-peshawari
Copyright© 2015 by Old Man with a Pen
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.
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