Chapter Four: Unsure and Untouchable

I had never, at that time, seen such a metallic lady altogether as Miss Murdstone was.

-David Copperfield

Hendricks awoke late the next morning, still sore, but feeling wonderfully rested. The sun was blazing brightly through the window and a warm sea breeze was wafting in. He stretched luxuriously, savoring the fact that he was alive. He then turned over and went right back to sleep.

            Waking up an hour or so later, his mind soon returned to Helen. He had, he thought, been rather silly last night. After all, he had just been through a near-death experience; probably any woman he happened to meet in such a state would look incredibly beautiful to him. Besides, even if she was attractive, it was ridiculous of him to be too hung up on her, seeing as how they just met.

Hendricks sighed and stretched again. Yes, he thought, as soon as they got off the island, he would forget about her. It wasn’t anything to worry too much about. Which raised the question of how they were going to get off the island, and whether he might be able to grab a meal in the meantime. With the sudden realization that he was ravenously hungry to motivate him, Hendricks got out of bed and started to dress himself. As he did so, he watched the sun gleaming off of the pure-blue waters of the Caribbean.

Really, he thought, smiling. It’s good to be alive.

An hour later, after scrounging up a solitary breakfast from a tight-lipped, sour-faced island employee, Hendricks decided to go for a walk down to the beach in the hopes of finding someone who might be able to give him more information about when they could expect to move on. Oh his way out of the kitchen he ran into Nick and Lucas, the two crewmen, coming in.

“Ah, Mr. Hendricks!” said Lucas. “It is a great pleasure to see you in one piece.”

“Thanks,” he answered. “You too. Uh, any idea when we’ll be moving on?”

Lucas shrugged.

“Ah, who knows?” he said. “You can try the captain, if you like. He’s on the porch.”

Hendricks thanked him and headed out to the porch, where he found Hogan swapping stories with Charles.

            “I know what you’re saying,” said Charles good-humoredly. “I was stationed in Africa for three years. And remember; I grew up in the north of England and went to school in upstate New York, so I consider about 27 degrees Celsius to be my upper limit. It was an absolute nightmare!”

            “I can’t imagine,” said Hogan. “See, I’m from Arizona, so I was used to the heat. It was the humidity that killed me. What part of Africa were you stationed in?”

            “East Africa,” said Charles. “Round about Tanzania, Kenya, and so forth. So, pretty much right on the equator.”

            “What were you doing there?” Hogan asked.           

            “Oh, peace keeping,” said Charles wearily. “There was some warlord or other whom we were supposed to keep in check or something.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ve forgotten the details; in any case, three years and nothing happened outside of a riot or two. So it was hot, humid, buggy, and boring.”

            Hogan nodded sympathetically, then noticed Hendricks.

            “Hendricks!” he exclaimed. “Ralph told me you were here! You doing alright?”           

            “Yeah,” Hendricks shrugged. “Not too bad. Uh, how’s the boat?”

            “Complete loss,” said Hogan, shaking his head. “And before you ask, no, I don’t know when we’ll be moving on. Charles?”

            “Yes,” said Charles. “I’m afraid our own docks were rather badly damaged in the storm, and we’ve been having some mechanical problems with our helicopters as well. But I shouldn’t think it’d be more than a day at the most before we could send you on your way.”

            “Well, thanks,” said Hendricks.

            “Have a seat, Hendricks,” said Hogan, indicating an empty chair. “Join us!”

            “Er…” Hendricks really didn’t feel up to listening to these two soldiers exchanging stories of battle and endurance while he sat there trying to come up with something remotely similar that didn’t involve him throwing up.

            “No thanks,” he said. “I…feel like a walk.”           

            Hogan nodded.

            “Good idea,” he said. “We’ll see you later.”           

            “Good morning, Mr. Hendricks,” said Charles, smiling.

            As Hendricks left the porch, he heard them resume their conversation:

            “So,” Charles was saying. “During the Siege of Hanoi, did you ever actually meet Corporal Pyle?”

            “Well, as a matter of fact, I did…”

            Hendricks hurried along, not wanting to hear more. His reaction surprised him: normally he loved hearing stories of war and daring, but over the past couple of days every time that Hogan or Ralph had started telling stories of the war he had felt as though he were a disobedient child being told off by his parents.

It didn’t take much effort to see why either. They had both been honestly brave: real men. And what about him? He, Hendricks, had dissolved into a quivering mass the very first time he had faced real danger. That was the night he had really seen himself for the first time, and what he saw was something much less than he had imagined. The simple fact, he thought, was that Hogan, Ralph, Charles, and the rest were just a different type of man than he was…

“Hey!”

Hendricks turned around and felt as though something inside his stomach had just kicked him very hard. Helen was coming down the path behind him dressed in black pants and a sky-blue tee-shirt, her black hair tied back in a ponytail. Hendricks silently swore as all the comfortable, reasonable thoughts and decisions he had made about not being silly or getting hung up on her were painfully blasted aside.

Okay, he thought bitterly to himself. I was wrong: she really is that beautiful.

When we talk of ‘love at first sight,’ we usually conceive of it as something warm, gentle, and pleasant. Hendricks was discovering that love at first sight was more like emotional blitzkrieg; cutting through his defenses like a hot German knife through French butter.

 “Good morning,” he said, struggling to redirect his forces from the Maginot Line.

“…It’s one-thirty.”

Bad start, he thought.

“Really?” he said.

“Yeah, but that’s not really important, uh, look can I talk to you?”

            Hendricks looked at her in surprise. Now that he had gotten over the initial impact of seeing her, he noticed that she was definitely troubled about something. She kept twisting her hands together and glancing over her shoulder. With a nasty jolt, he realized she looked frightened.

            “Of course,” he said. “What’s going on?”

            She bit her lip and looked up and down the path.

            “Can we, uh, can we go down to the beach or something?”

            Hendricks nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. As they walked, he mulled over just how different she seemed now than she had last night. Last night she had seemed bright, confident, even cheerful. Now, the more he thought about it and the more he watched her, the more troubled and nervous she looked. She was walking with a slight hunch, as though she were trying to make herself as small as possible, and she kept looking around her at the trees, like she thought someone might be watching them. What, he wondered, could have possibly happened since last night to make her so nervous?

            “Okay,” she said when they had reached the beach and she had satisfied herself that they were alone. “Now, I know this is going to sound crazy, but please, please do me a favor and pretend that it doesn’t, okay?”

            “Uh, okay,” said Hendricks, who was more confused than ever.

            Helen took a deep breath…and said nothing. She looked around the beach, as though hoping to find something that would help her say what she was trying to say. Finding nothing, she took another deep breath and blurted out:

            “I have prophetic dreams.”

            Hendricks blinked.

            “Sorry?”

            “My dreams can show me the future.”

            She was right: that did sound crazy. True to his word, however, Hendricks swallowed his urge to say so.

            “Okay,” he said. “So, your dreams predict the future.”

            “Yes,” she said firmly. “And last night…I had a very bad dream. It, well…”

            Helen bit her lip and looked out to sea. Hendricks, already alarmed by her behavior, noticed with another uncomfortable lurch that she looked close to tears.

            “It’s okay,” he said clumsily. “Uh, take your time.”

            Helen took a few steadying breaths, then, in a rushed, slightly choked voice, said:

            “It showed me I’m going to die.”

            Hendricks’s mouth fell open and he felt a chill running up his spine. He looked at Helen and tried to imagine something bad happening to her. The thought made him shiver, and he was filled with a desire to help her.

            “Well,” he said slowly. “It was just a dream, so…”

            “No, it wasn’t just a dream!” she snapped. “I don’t have normal dreams!”

            “Sorry, sorry!” he said quickly. “Uh, what I mean is, are you sure that’s what it meant?”

            “Yes,” she said. “It was very clear; I got to see my own funeral. Apparently, there isn’t even enough left of me to bother with a casket!”

            Her voice broke and she began to take deep, heavy breaths.

            “Okay, I’m sorry. I just thought, maybe…” Hendricks didn’t know what to say. He felt like he ought to do something to comfort her, but wasn’t sure how she would react if he did.

            “Look,” she gasped, struggling to compose herself. “I know how this sounds, alright? But right now, I’m really, really scared and I need your help.”

            “Sure,” he said. “Of course…what can I do?”

            “Well,” she said once she had gotten more control over herself. “That…wasn’t the end of the dream…”

            And she told him about the White Dog and what it had said.

            “So, I need to get off this island,” she said. “And I need you to help me.”

            “Okay,” said Hendricks, struggling to process all the information she was giving hm. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be though.”

            “That’s what I thought,” she muttered. “Sorry,” she added quickly. “That was rude.”

            “And just to be clear,” said Hendricks, hoping he didn’t sound as though he thought she was crazy. “This…the fact that you need my help…is what the dog told you?”

            “Dog?” boomed a familiar voice, making them both jump. “I LOVE dogs!”

            “Oh, no,” Hendricks muttered as Ralph bounded up. “Uh, it’s not a real dog, it’s just a dream she had…”

            “Oh,” said Ralph, looking disappointed. “That’s a shame. What kind of dream was it?”

            “I told you, it wasn’t just a dream,” said Helen, glaring at Hendricks.

            “A dream that isn’t just a dream?” said Ralph. “This sounds fascinating; do tell!”

            Helen looked helplessly from Hendricks to Ralph (who was beaming encouragingly at her), sighed, and summarized her situation for Ralph.

            “I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Ralph. “I find it hard to imagine anyone wishing to do you harm. Well, we mustn’t delay; we must devise a plan for your removal immediately…”

            “Wait, you believe me?” she said in surprise.

            “Of course!” he said. “There’s nothing unbelievable about prophetic dreams!”

            “There isn’t?” Hendricks asked. “Sorry,” he added quickly, realizing he might have offended Helen again.

            “No, I’m with you,” she said. “I glad and all, but what?”

            Ralph looked at them as if he thought they were a bit dim.

            “Why, history is ripe with prophetic dreamers!” he exclaimed. “It’s not common, no, but it does happen. Just look at Joseph!”

            “Joseph who?” Hendricks asked.           

            “Joseph of the many colored cloak, of course!”

            It took Hendricks a few seconds to realize what he was talking about.

            “You mean from the Bible?”

            “Naturally! Surely you believe in the Bible?”

            “Er…” Normally Hendricks would say he did, but like most people he meant that he believed in the New Testament and was more agnostic about the Old. Ralph, as usual, took his uncertainty for agreement.

            “There you have it!” he said. “Now back to the matter at hand; how are we going to get Ms. Marshall here off this island?” 

            “Well,” said Helen gloomily. “Charles gave me an emergency briefing when I first started that showed two ways off the island. There’s the helipad on the roof of the main facility…”

            She pointed at the huge, square, somber building towering above the trees.

            “…And there are the docks on the north end of the island. Do you know what they both have in common?”

            “Uh…”

            “You have to go through the main facility to reach either of them,” she said. “Which means getting off the island without everyone knowing about it is pretty much impossible.”

            Hendricks nodded sympathetically. Ralph looked thoughtful.

            “Is there a map of the island anywhere?” he asked.

            “Of course,” she said. “There’s, um, one hanging in the library in the villa.”           

            “I think I might peruse that before we make any kind of decisions,” he said. “I will go and check it.”

            “Why don’t we all just go?” Hendricks asked.           

            “Well, I think it might be better not to conduct this planning session within Dr. Prosser’s own home,” said Ralph delicately. “Much better out in the open of nature, what? Besides, I only want to confirm something…you two wait here, and I shall return shortly.”

            And he skipped off as though he were a child on vacation.

            “He’s kind of an odd guy, isn’t he?” said Helen.

            “You have no idea,” Hendricks sighed.

            “I don’t know what he thinks the map will do; I’ve seen it a dozen times and it doesn’t show any, I don’t know, tunnels back to Key West or something.”

            Hendricks shrugged.

            “Who knows?” he said. “Look, if we can’t get you off secretly, maybe we could come up with a reason for them to let you go.”

            “Like what?”

            “Well, I don’t know…tell them your mother is gravely ill and you have to go and see her at once.”

            Helen laughed.

            “I think they’d know if my mother were gravely ill,” she said.

            “How come?”

            Helen looked at him in surprise.

            “Uh, because she’s the governor.”

            Hendricks’ jaw dropped.

            “Wait, your mother is…”

            “Edith Marshall, the Governor of Florida?” said Helen. “Yeah, that’s her.” She stared at him, “Did you not realize that?”

            “Uh, no.”

            “You know, I’ve had my picture in the paper about fifty times…”

            “Well, I’ve only lived in Florida for about six months…”

            “Still, the pointed references to law-school, the physical resemblance, the last name, none of those made you at all suspicious?”

            There was a pause.

            “It’s a pretty common last name,” said Hendricks with a shrug.

            Helen shook her head in disbelief.

            “You’re not a very good cop, are you?” she said.

            “Uh…”

            “You know what, I’m sorry; that was a mean thing to say, and here you’re helping me, and I’m…”

            She buried her face in her hands and took a deep breath.

            “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m not really myself today.”

            “It’s fine,” he said. “Completely understandable, and no, I’m not a very good cop. That’s why I’m quitting.”

            Helen looked up in surprise.

            “You are?”

            “Yes,” he said. “It was a bad choice and I only took the job because…”

            He hesitated, but if she was going to depend on him he had to be honest with her.

            “…Because I’m a coward.”           

            Helen considered this with a dubious expression.

            “You became a cop because you’re a coward?” she repeated.

            “I became a cop in a town where the worst crime that ever happened was kids breaking picket fences on their way home from karate class,” he said bitterly. “And I only did it because it meant I didn’t have to go to Vietnam. So, yeah, I’m a coward.”

            Helen watched him with a sympathetic, but slightly annoyed expression.

            “Okay,” she said. “So, you’re a coward. Anything else I should know?”

            Hendricks considered.

            “I don’t think so,” he said. “You’re really the governor’s daughter?”

            She nodded.

“Unfortunately.”

            “Do they know?” he asked, gesturing towards the facility.

            “Oh, yeah,” she said. “At least, I think so. Charles is pretty good at his job; I’m sure he put the pieces together. Not that I’m trying to rub it in, or anything,” she added quickly.

            “No offense taken.”  

            They walked aimlessly in silence along the beach for a few minutes, Helen looking thoughtfully out to sea, Hendricks trying hard to avoid looking at her.

            “By the way,” she said. “Does the name ‘Kobras’ mean anything to you?”

            “The snake?”

            “No, not cobras, ‘Kobras:’ spelled with a ‘K’ and rhymes with ‘us.’”

            He shook his head. “Should I?”

            “Probably not,” she sighed. “It’s just something from a dream I can’t remember, but that I think it’s important. And that it’s related to whatever’s going on. You know, I can’t believe that Dr. Prosser is as bad as all that,” she added suddenly.

            “What?”

            “He’s been so nice to me,” she said. “And Charles…I just can’t believe they’d be plotting against me all this time.”

            “But isn’t that what your dream said?”

            “Not really,” she said. “He said that they ‘weren’t who they say they are’ and that I shouldn’t trust them. I don’t know, that could mean a lot of things.”

            She looked at him as though pleading for support. Hendricks, though, didn’t have any idea what to say that might help. He gave what he hoped was an encouraging shrug. Judging by her reaction, it wasn’t what she was looking for.

            “I don’t know,” he said. “You know them better than I do. If you say they wouldn’t want to hurt you, I believe you.”

            “But then why would the Dog tell me not to trust them?” she said.

            “Uh…Maybe because it knew they wouldn’t believe the magical-dream-dog story.”

            She glared at him.

            “I’m saying they wouldn’t,” he said hastily. “Not that I don’t.”

            “Do you?”

            Hendricks opened his mouth, but hesitated, weighing the relative merits of lying.

            “Never mind,” she said.

            “No, no, I was going to…”

            “It’s alright; I’m used to people not believing me,” she said. “As long as you’re willing to help, I don’t mind.”

            Her expression and tone of voice indicated that she did indeed mind, so Hendricks gave her a skeptical look.

            “Okay, so I mind,” she said. “I don’t like people thinking I’m crazy, especially if I’m supposed to trust my life to them.”

            “I don’t think you’re crazy!” he protested.

            “But you don’t believe me?”

            “Uh…”

            “So, what exactly do you think? I’m making it up?”

            “No!”

            “Well, if I’m not crazy, and I’m not making it up, what does that leave?”

            Hendricks considered.

            “Do you really want me to…”

            “Yes! I want to know what you think!”

            “Well,” he said. “It’s possible that you’re just…confused. You know, that you happened to have a few dreams which bore a resemblance to what actually happened in the future, and then the power of suggestion made it so that you kept having dreams like that. And since you expect the dream to come true, of course it always does.”

            He shrugged.

            “You know, that’s a possibility.”

            She shook her head.

            “No,” she sighed, casting another weary glance out to sea. “No, it’s really not.”

            “Have you ever considered it?”

            “Of course I have! It doesn’t work like that.”

            “But how can you know

            “Because they’re my dreams, remember!?” she snapped. “I just…know. If you had any idea what it was like, you wouldn’t be asking, but I can’t describe it all.” she gripped her hair in frustration. “Look, just keep your ‘I’m crazy or lying or deluding’ theories to yourself for the moment, alright?”

            “Hey, you asked!”

            Helen seemed to deflate a little.

            “You’re right, I did,” she sighed. “I’m sorry; I swear I’m usually not this rude.”

            She shook her head vigorously and kicked up a bunch of sand in frustration.

            “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m really not myself today, what with the, you know, marked for death thing. And…who’s that?”

            Hendricks followed her gaze. A small group of people were walking unhurriedly down the beach. Two tall, powerfully built, severely handsome men walked on either side of a slender, attractive woman in an elegant green sundress. She looked to be about forty or so, with curly blond hair and a somewhat severe expression on her well made-up face.

            The woman’s eyes lingered on Helen and Hendricks and a very unpleasant expression came across her face; as though she had just found a pile of dog droppings on her lawn. She started for them, walking at a sharp clip while the two men followed behind her.

            “Excuse me,” she said, coming into earshot. “But who, exactly, are you supposed to be?”

            “I work here,” said Helen shortly. “Who are you?”

            “You?” said the woman, ignoring Helen’s question. “Work here? I seriously doubt that.”

            “You can ask Dr. Prosser if you like,” Helen retorted.

            “Oh, believe me, dear, I will,” said the woman with a faint laugh. “And, what is it exactly that you do here?”

            Helen cast Hendricks a disbelieving look and answered “None of your business!”

            The woman looked as though Helen had slapped her.

            “It most certainly is, missy,” she said, her voice lowering dangerously. “You see, I’m funding this little science experiment, so what you are doing here is very much my business.”

            “You are funding…?”

            “Oh, yes,” she smiled. “And if you actually worked here, I suspect dear Donny would have told you that. So, let me ask again, what, exactly, do you do here?”

            “I…I do filing,” said Helen, clearly thrown off by this new information. “Bookkeeping, that sort of thing…”

            The woman gave a screeching laugh that made Hendricks’s hair stand on end.

            “Filing?!” she exclaimed. “Bookkeeping? Do you expect me to believe that? Donny doesn’t need any filing or bookkeeping done! He’s not running a business here, you know. What would he need filed, anyway?”

            “I don’t know!” Helen exclaimed. “That’s just what he hired me for!”

            “Well, I’ll have to have a little chat with him about that,” the woman said, eying Helen with a mixture of suspicion and contempt. “Are you sure that’s all he hired you for? I mean, I imagine even he gets lonely out here…”

            Hendricks just managed to grab Helen as she lunged forward, her first raised. The woman didn’t even flinch, but gave another shrieking laugh.

            “I seem to have hit a nerve! But don’t try that again, dear, or I might have to hurt you.”

            “I can take you, grandma!” Helen snarled, trying to break free from Hendricks’s grasp. He found she was a lot stronger than she looked.

            “No,” said the woman, still smiling broadly. “You can’t.” She turned her gaze to Hendricks.

            “And who are you? Don’t tell me you’re the janitor or something?”

            “No,” said Hendricks. Helen had stopped struggling but he held onto her just in case. “My boat got wrecked.”

            “Your boat just happened to wreck on our island?” she said. “That’s quite a…”           

            “Hello!” boomed Ralph, bounding up behind her. “Making new friends already, are we?”

            The woman jumped and whipped around as though she had been stung. Ralph beamed at her as though nothing could please him more than seeing her.

            “Friends?” she said haughtily. “Do you know who I am?”

            “Of course!” said Ralph. “You are Ulla Orlich, the richest woman in the world. Sometimes called ‘Ulla the Untouchable’ because of your charming personality. Do you know who I am?”

            There was maybe a full second where she was left speechless.

            “Yes,” she said, recovering herself. “You’re the annoying nobody who interrupted me.”

            “Two-out-of-three!” he said cheerfully. “’Nobody’ I most certainly am not, not by any definition! As a matter of fact, I seem to have rather more body than most!”

            He patted his large, rotund stomach and laughed. Ulla Orlich looked disgusted.

            “Who, exactly, did you say you are?”

            “Ralph Zanator,” he declared, rolling the first ‘R’ in his name for almost a full second. “Army Medical Corps.”

            “Indeed?” she said acidly, eying his girth. “The Army appears to be lowering its standards.”

            “No, it’s just that I’ve been in it for a very long time,” he said, grinning. “And they’ve gotten used to me. But what brings you to this lovely island, Ms. Orlich?”           

            “I am protecting my investment,” she said with a curl of her lips. “And it seems I have need to; I didn’t expect to find so many…strangers.”

            “Yes, I’m sure that’s uncommon distressing, what?” said Ralph.

            “Quite,” said Ulla, her voice dripping with contempt.

            “Still, new acquaintances are potential friends, eh?”

            Ulla blinked at him, looking as though he had just uttered a foul swear word.

            “My goodness,” she said. “I can’t remember when I felt more like vomiting. But what are you doing here, Ralph Zanator?”

            “At the moment, I am having a charming conversation,” he smiled. “What may happen in the hours to come, no man can say.”

            She stared at him.

            “You’re an idiot,” she said, sounding almost awed.

            “No,” said Ralph, grinning. “I’m not.”

            Ulla gave a snort of contempt. She swept her eyes over the three of them with an expression of mingled suspicion and distaste, and snorted again.

“I had better go talk to Donald about the kind of people he lets onto my island,” she said. “So, good day. I’d like to say it was lovely to meet you all but…well, it wasn’t.”

            And with a final, contemptuous look, she turned and strode off up the beach, her two bodyguards trailing along behind her. Helen muttered what might have been either of two insults under her breath.

            “So,” said Ralph, as soon as the Untouchable was out of earshot. “I had a look at the map and I think I’ve found something…"

Next Week:
Chapter Five: Brave New World