Chapter 6: Bookends, Bill Wilson's Story

Bermuda Triangle, current time

As Bill awoke, the grey that was his vision slowly gave way to the amber glow of the morning sun coming through the room's windows. He thought of the storm and remembered the raging waters of the western Atlantic. Suddenly he realized he realized he wasn't on his boat. He didn't know why he was even alive. He should be at the bottom of the ocean, dead of his own stupidity. Who in the hell deliberately takes a boat out during gale warnings? In twenty years as an Army Ranger and Delta Force backup he had never done anything that dumb.

Sure, the Malley was the sum of everything he had worked for his entire life, and the harbor he was in was not really a great place to weather a storm. Bill would have most likely lost the Malley if he didn't get her to safe harbor, but it looked like he'd lost her anyway. To add to that, he must have lost his mind too. Where in the hell was he?

The light from the windows turned from light amber to a brighter white as the sun rose. He started to take stock of his surroundings. The large room's walls were covered by what appeared to be a white plaster. The ceilings were vaulted wooden beams with three multi-lamp oil chandeliers spread through the room. One section of the room was designed as a casual conversational area. Another section was designed as an eating area.

His head hurt like crazy. He reached to touch the pain and noticed it was bandaged. He also now noticed a bandage around his left arm and another around his chest. He inventoried the rest of his parts, and everything seemed to be where it should be. Everything seemed to be working too, because he had to piss in the worst way.

Bill sat up on the bed and almost lost it. His head started spinning, and he started having visions. Two almost nude women stood at the door. Each stood about 6 foot 2 inches, and could be models for exercise machines. Their arms were almost as big as his legs, and were layered with muscles. Their significant breasts stood proud with no need of support. Their waists looked slim on their frames, but were bigger than his. Their hips were wide but solid with ropes of muscle reaching to their legs.

Their feet were covered by leather sandals. Around each waist was a weapons belt that held a dagger and a short sword. Both were in leather scabbards. A bronze choker around the neck was the only other clothing they wore. Each also held a wicked looking spear that rested on the floor.

They were beautiful. They could have been twins in stature, but one was white and the other black. Both had long braids of hair falling down their backs to their weapons belts. The white woman's pale blond hair matched the pubic hair between her legs. The black woman's dark black hair matched equally black pubic hair.

The dizziness gradually went away, but the two women remained. Both women's eyes turned to Bill's movement, and he almost forgot the pressing need of nature. He almost forgot. "I have to go to the bathroom."

The women looked at each other then at him, but didn't say a word. He got up from the bed and realized that, except for the sandals, bronze choker and weapons belt, he was dressed the same as they were. At that point he didn't care. He had to piss in the worst way. As he approached the door, the women crossed their spears to block my way.

"I have to piss!"

They both looked at him, but neither showed any emotion nor made any move to allow him to pass. They didn't understand him, maybe. He grabbed his crotch and groaned.

The white woman pointed to a corner of the room, There was a covered chamber pot. He was in no mood to argue. He rushed to the pot, raised the lid, and relived the pressure. He turned back to the women and without the pain of a full bladder realized they were some kind of sexy. They were kind of sexy, hell. They were breathtaking, and they were laughing at him.

Before he could lust after the two beauties too long, the chamber door opened, and two more lovelies entered and stood next to the two existing guards. One had flaming red hair, and the other's was a deep rich brown. They were dressed, however. Well, they were sort of dressed in a red leather halter top and briefs that barely covered their subject. Their clothing reminded him of one of his old creative writing teachers. Mr. Williby's favourite line was, "This story should be like a woman's dress. It should be short enough to keep it interesting and long enough to cover the subject." Mr. Williby would have been proud.

When the new arrivals sat their spear ends to the floor, an effervescent 14-year-old appearing girl bounced into the room. She saw Bill and ran to embrace him. As her golden mane of hair flowed behind her, she jumped into his arms. When she hit his chest, pain shot through his body and he staggered and almost fell. He heard himself groan as he fought to keep from blacking out.

A look of concern replaced the happy go lucky features that radiated from her smile. "Oh! My champion, I am so sorry. I was so happy to see you up and around that I forgot you were still wounded. Please forgive me."

"It's OK," he squeaked as he fought for his breath.

"Your majesty," came a voice from the door. "You must be more careful. Your hero is still recovering from his wounds."

"I forgot, Aunt Ada. I was so excited to see my hero."

Suddenly a cloud lifted from Bill's mind.

Bermuda Triangle, one week before

Bill felt the boat's keel hit the reef. He had almost made the entrance of the harbor. Almost, that is, until he heard the keel breaking on the reef. In a desperate attempt to get away from the sinking boat, he dove into the huge wave that was rushing to the shore. Immediately the wave tossed him like a ball. He was thrown in the air and caught back by the wave. He was then pulled under the water. After he was able to keep himself from getting ripped apart on the razor thin coral, he desperately clawed his way back to the surface and to draw a lung full of fresh air.

He broke the surface and stroked toward the sound of the storm's fury pounding the beach. He tried to body surf on the huge waves, but a funnel of water pulled him down again. It seemed like he fought the suction for hours to keep away from the deadly reef surface until he again felt the cool night air on his face.

As soon as he gasped the air, he was pulled back under. In its fury, the wave held him down as he fought to get back to the surface. It seemed the harder he fought, the more forceful the suction forcing him to the ocean bottom. His energy left him as his vision narrowed until he passed out from lack of air and exhaustion.

God only knew how he got there, but Bill woke on a sandy beach with an intense tropical sun beating down on him. As his mind came back to him, he turned to his stomach and pulled himself from the water as he spit out the rest of the seawater he had tried to breath. He was able to crawl to the shade of several trees before he passed out again. He must have slept overnight, because when he awoke he could just see the sun burning away the morning mist.

He took stock of his surroundings, and decided that he was alive and very hungry. Standing on steady legs, he realized he was damn lucky to be alive. He stretched and struck out in search for food.

The sand of the beach stretched out as a white carpet studded with small diamonds. On the right was a large lagoon. Farther out giant breakers beat relentlessly on the coral reef that protected the lagoon. Close to the shore, the water formed pools that were so clear they could have been dry. On the left an emerald barrier of vegetation walled off the beach from the rest of the land.

After about one mile along the coastline, he heard a scream and then laughter. Quickly old Ranger training took over. Bill stealthily pushed to the edge of a clearing and took stock of the situation.

Around the clearing lay the bodies of three women. Each woman had a spear in her back. Two of the women wore what looked like red leather two piece swimsuits. The other woman wore a long white silk gown. In the centre of the clearing two men held a struggling girl. A third man was removing his clothes. When he was nude, he walked to the young girl and ran his hands through her golden locks.

The girl turned her head and took a bite out of his hand. The man roared and ripped the young girls white gown from her body and slapped her across her mouth. Blood ran down the girl's face from her mouth as she raised her head and spit in the man's face.

Bill considered himself a very liberal person. It went with his religion. He remember the words of the bible that said things like " 'Vengeance is Mine, ' sayeth the Lord." "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." "What you do to the least of my people, you do unto me." This is what his religion taught him. His daddy, however, taught him two exceptions to this line of thought. 1) If you rape a woman you should lose the equipment you used in the rape, and 2) if you hurt a kid you should die.

It looked like these guys were violating both exception 1 and 2. He lost control, picked up a piece of driftwood and rushed the group. In his best imitation of Hank Aaron, he swung the wood like a bat at one of the men and heard a satisfying crack as pieces of the man's skull shattered into his brain.

His motion continued as he brought his right foot into the second man's throat and felt his larynx collapse. As the second bad guy fell back, Bill spun to see the third man draw a large, mean looking knife from his belt.

As the rapist approached, Bill was too slow and his knife slashed Bill's left arm as the former Ranger moved under the knife thrust. Bill's right fist landed on the large man's diaphragm. As the breath was heard leaving the now limp man's lungs, the man dropped his knife at Bill's feet as and fell to his knees. Bill scooped up the knife and plunged it into the back of his neck below his head.

It was over, and time to check on the girl. She lay in a fetal position and was shaking as if she was cold. Bill quickly took off his shirt and lifted her up to wrap it around her. She turned into a wildcat. She was swinging her arms and trying to claw out his eyes. In self-defence, he grabbed her and pulled her naked body to his bare chest.

As he tried to put his shirt around her, he gently said, "It's over little one. I won't let anyone hurt you. It's OK baby. It's OK. I'll take care of you." As he spoke, she started to calm, and then she started to cry. He started to rock her back and forth and started to sing an old hymn he had learned in church. As he rocked her, she looked over his shoulder and suddenly screamed.

He turned to look and three more men came out of the forest. He quickly pushed the girl to the sand and moved between the girl and the approaching men. They spread out as they approached Bill. The centre man carried a spear, the left man carried a short sword and the right hand man carried a club. Bill's mind went into a threat assessment mode. The spear could be thrown, so he was number one. The sword could cause damage in several ways, so he was number two. While a club can do a lot of damage, Bill was forced to put him at the bottom of the to-do list.

The three men rushed him at the same time. As suspected, the spear got to Bill first. He was weak from losing blood from the cut on his arm, so he was about a half a step slow when the spear was jabbed at him. Bill felt searing pain in his side as he stepped forward and kicked the spear thrower between his legs. He was able to pull the spear from the spearman's hands. He then plunged it into the chest of the surprised swordsman.

Before Bill could get around to the man with the club the lights went dim and he fell forward from a glancing blow from the club. As he attempted to roll to his back, he saw the young girl pick up the lose sword and drive it through the third man's midsection. As he fell forward on top of him, Bill passed out.