Duma Key

"Okay," I said.

"Can we go now?" Wireman asked.

"Not quite yet," I said.

He glanced at the clock, then back at me. "I thought you were in a hurry, amigo. And given what we saw in here last night, I know that I am. So what else?"

"I need to draw you both," I said.

iv

"I'd love to have you do a picture of me, Edgar," Jack said, "and I'm sure my mom would be totally blissed out - but I think Wireman's right. We ought to get going."

"Have you ever been to the south end of the Key, Jack?"

"Uh, no."

Of that I'd been almost sure. But as I tore the picture of the drawbridge machinery off the top of my pad, I looked at Wireman. In spite of the lead that now seemed to be lining my heart and emotions, I found that this was something I really wanted to know. "What about you? Ever been down to the original Heron's Roost for a little poke-and-pry?"

"Actually, no." Wireman went to the window and looked out. "Drawbridge is still up - I can see the western leaf against the sky from here. So far, so good."

I was not to be diverted so easily. "Why not?"

"Miss Eastlake advised against it," he said, still not turning from the window. "She said the environment was bad. Groundwater, flora, even the air. She said the Army Air Corps did testing off the south end of Duma during World War II and managed to poison that end of the island, which is probably why the foliage grows so rank in most places. She said the poison oak is maybe the worst in America - worse than syphilis before penicillin is how she put it. Takes years to get rid of, if you rub up against it. Looks like it's gone, then it comes back. And it's everywhere. So she said."

This was mildly interesting, but Wireman still hadn't actually answered my question. So I asked it again.

"She also claimed there are snakes," he said, finally turning around. "I have a horror of snakes. Have ever since I was a little boy and woke up one morning on a camping trip with my folks to discover I was sharing my sleeping bag with a milkie. It had actually worked its way into my undershirt. It sprayed me with musk. I thought I was fucking poisoned. Are you satisfied?"

"Yes," I said. "Did you tell her that story before or after she told you about the snake infestation on the south end?"

Stiffly, he said: "I don't remember." Then he sighed. "Probably before. I see what you're saying - she wanted to keep me away."

I didn't say it, you did, I thought. What I said was, "It's mostly Jack I'm worried about. But it's better to be safe."

" Me? " Jack looked startled. "I don't have anything against snakes. And I know what poison oak and poison ivy look like. I was a Boy Scout."

"Trust me on this," I said, and began to sketch him. I worked quickly, resisting the urge to go into detail... as part of me seemed to want to do. While I was working, the first angry car horn began to honk on the coast side of the drawbridge.

"Sounds to me like the drawbridge is stuck again," Jack said.

"Yes," I agreed, not looking up from my drawing.

v

I sped along even more quickly with Wireman's sketch, but I again found myself having to fight the urge to fall into the work... because when I was in the work, the pain and grief were at bay. The work was like a drug. But there would be only so much daylight, and I didn't want to meet Emery again any more than Wireman did. What I wanted was for this to be over and for the three of us to be off-island - far off-island - by the time those sunset colors started to rise out of the Gulf.

"Okay," I said. I had done Jack in blue and Wireman in blaze orange. Neither was perfect, but I thought both sketches caught the essentials. "There's just one more thing."

Wireman groaned. " Edgar! "

"Nothing I need to draw," I said, and flipped the cover of the pad closed on the two sketches. "Just smile for the artist, Wireman. But before you do, think of something that makes you feel particularly good."

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

His brow furrowed... then smoothed out. He smiled. As always, it lit up his whole face and made him a new man.

I turned to Jack. "Now you."

And because I really did feel that he was the more important of the two, I watched him very closely when he did.

vi

We didn't have a four-wheel drive, but Elizabeth's old Mercedes sedan seemed a reasonable substitute; it was built like a tank. We drove to El Palacio in Jack's car, and parked just inside the gate. Jack and I switched our supplies over to the SEL 500. Wireman's job was the picnic basket.

"A few other things while you're in there, if you can," I said. "Bug-spray, and a really good flashlight. Have you got one of those?"

He nodded. "There's an eight-cell job in the gardening shed. It's a searchlight."

"Good. And Wireman?"

He gave me a what now look - the exasperated kind you do mostly with your eyebrows - but said nothing.

"The spear-pistol?"

He actually grinned. "S , se or. Para fijaciono."