Page 11 of Wired Ghost

“Eureka? That’s a new one for you. What you got there?”

“Coconuts.” Sophie tossed one of them down to him. “The husks are great fuel, and these are old coconuts. Hopefully the meat inside the nut is nice and dried out—coconut is very oily. We can put the coconut meat in something and burn it.”

Jake eyed the gray, roughly football-sized coconut. He’d seen local men open them in a matter of minutes with a machete or an axe, but they had nothing down here but a knife. The dense husk covering the outside was hard to get through, not to mention the tremendously hard inner nut. “Could take us hours to deal with this thing.”

Sophie frowned and put her hands on her hips. Silhouetted on top of the pile, even covered with grime she was a magnificent sight. “What, are you in a hurry to go into a completely dark lava tube with a torch that’ll go out in minutes?”

Jake stepped up, handed her back the coconut, and presented the knife in its scabbard. “You go, girl. I’m off to look for something easier to deal with.”

Sophie snorted. “Good luck.”

She squished down off the pile and sat on the rocky ground. She took off her shoes, gripped the coconut with her feet, and jabbed the knife into the tough fibrous exterior.

Jake twitched in reaction. Watching her do that was too nerve-wracking; she could so easily slip with that knife and cut herself. But he couldn’t offer to help after making a fuss, so he bit his tongue, turned away, and went back to searching the refuse pile.

An hour or so later of digging and sifting, Jake found a can filled with used Crisco frying oil. “Eureka!” he yelled, holding the lidded tin aloft.

He was rewarded by hearing Sophie laugh.

Down here in the cesspit with a dead body, trapped, literally covered with shit, she was laughing.

He loved her so freakin’ much.

Jake made his way back to her, his eyes widening to see that she’d stripped the tough, fibrous husk off the coconut, and had begun smashing the fist-sized nut itself between two rocks. “We can still use this meat inside. For fuel, or to eat if we get hungry enough.”

“I’d have to be pretty damn hungry.” Jake squatted beside her and held up his prize. “Exhibit A. Fuel oil.”

The coconut gave way to Sophie’s pounding with a crunch. She held up one of its large brown shards, lined with shriveled white coconut gone translucent with age. “Exhibit B. Even more fuel.”

“Excellent. Now we need something that can hold the flame and wick the fuel.” Jake pointed to the corpse. “I was going to pull that guy’s clothes off him. He doesn’t need them anymore.”

“But the smell. Burning, it will be even worse.” Sophie shuddered. “Plus, it’s a crime scene. They might be able to tell something about his death from the clothes.”

“I’m pretty grossed out by the body fluids and fats that are soaked into the cloth,” Jake said. “And you’re right. But maybe we could cut off the lower legs of his jeans . . .”

“Ugh. Why don’t we just dip some of this coconut husk in the oil and try that?”

Jake cocked his head, considering. “Okay. We can give that a go.”

Sophie dipped a finger-wide shred of coconut husk into the oil in the tin. It had thickened up, so it adhered to the fibrous husk like a blob of mayonnaise. “If the husk can hold the fuel without burning up, we could plant a few pieces in the oil as wicks, and carry your whole tin.”

Jake flicked the lighter. “The moment of truth.” He held the flame to the coconut husk.

It promptly flared high, emitting black smoke, and burned down until Sophie had to drop it. She swore.

“I wish you’d tell me what you’re saying in English.”

“Rat guts vomited from the mouth of a cat. It doesn’t translate well.”

Jake chuckled. “Fair enough. I don’t like the idea of carrying a sloshing can of hot oil with a flaming wick through uncertain terrain, anyway. Here’s what I think we should do. Let’s use the knife to cut the edge of the dead guy’s jeans off, just that rolled bit of fabric at the bottom. We can dip it into the oil and use it as a wick. I think the jeans material will hold the flame better. We can experiment first, but my idea is to soak that in the oil, wrap it around a stick, and light it. When the flame starts to go out, we can dip it in the oil again. Keep one torch going all the time, but have two to work with.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They both turned to eye the dead man. Decomp had come and gone, leaving darkly-stained garments surrounding bones that still held remnants of skin and hair that hadn’t been eaten by the bugs that flew freely around the trash pile.

“I bet he was a lot worse a few months ago,” Jake said. “The bugs and maggots have had time to clean up a lot of it.”

Sophie grimaced. “Good thing I have a strong stomach. I’ll cut the jeans off at the knees. That should be enough.” She was still holding the knife, and she pulled her shirt mask up over her nose and mouth, and advanced to kneel next to the corpse.

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