Page 4 of Wild Life

I started a fire in the pit and got to work on the already gutted and descaled fish. Poaka danced around me, kicking his hooves excitedly as I extracted a few bony spines that I had saved for him. He chomped on them, grunting his appreciation between bites.

Working like a one-man assembly line, I set to curing. Using salt I had boiled out of seawater, I smeared a generous amount inside of each fish, as well as on the body, before resting the prepared ones in a basket filled with more salt.

Fresh seafood was more delicious, but it spoiled too quickly in the humidity and attracted pesky flies. Curing was the only way to prevent a large catch like this from going bad. My supply had run out, and this batch would last me another month, provided hunting went smoothly, too.

I covered the basket with more banana leaves, then wrapped a scrap of a plastic tarp over the top—another thing from my collection of items washed ashore—and lowered the bundle into a hole in the ground. The basket had small gaps that would help to drain the water drawn out by the salt. The tarp over the top and sides would help keep the fish clean from any ground matter. I covered everything with dirt and packed it tightly to protect it from the expected rainfall. I’d check on it again after the rain passed.

Poaka rolled onto his side and let out a sharp grunt. He was tired, and I couldn’t blame him. On most evenings, I fell asleep soon after the sun set, but tonight, my body had been too restless to stay still. However, I could feel myself slowing down. “Alright. Let’s go to sleep.”

I washed my hands with the rainwater I had collected in the barrel next to the hut. I had engineered a system to rig an outside shower made of old tubing that I had found, but I was too exhausted to use it now.

The cool water was the perfect relief as I splashed it onto my face, sighing at the tiny rivulets that dripped down my beard. I kept my facial hair short to avoid bugs and other particles from getting caught in it. It was uncomfortable to have little things crawling around your face especially when body hair grew like weeds in the humid weather.

I slurped some water into my mouth and swished it around, then spit it out and grabbed a twig from the collection I had left on the side of the water barrel. I chewed on it, making sure to touch each tooth. The ritual reminded me of brushing my teeth with Ma every night before bed.Round and round and up and down. My chest still ached for her as if she had died yesterday.

I tossed the stick into the pit and put the fire out. Poaka trotted by my feet as we made our way to the hammock strung up between two trees. I usually slept inside the hut, but the air was different, and something about it beckoned me. I would stay out until the rain started before moving inside.

I helped my buddy up into the heavily reinforced sling, and he curled into my underarm, nuzzling my side.

I chuckled. “Okay, I’ll sing your song.” He loved when I sang him the lullaby Ma had always sung to me. Every time I recited the words, I felt closer to her, if just for a moment.

“Close your eyes, child.

Let the winds be and the stars shine.

In your dream, your hand will find mine.

The splendor we’ll see.

Sleep, my boy, and fly free with me.”

Poaka’s breathing slowed to a steady snoring, and I exhaled deeply, allowing my aching limbs a chance to relax.

The moon was certainly brighter than I’d ever seen it, despite the storm clouds hovering nearby, ready to stifle its brilliance. I rarely found time to enjoy nature. My day was filled with chores to keep the pig and myself alive to see another sunrise.

However, I couldn’t help but savor the fleeting peace of the rustling leaves and the fragrant jungle air.

My eyelids drooped, yet I was aware that I should move us to shelter. Perhaps I could wait a little longer.

Chapter 3

Crashing into Destiny

Maris

Age 8

“I have to pee!” The seatbelt squished my belly every time I crossed my legs to try to stop an accident from happening. Bit, my stuffed bat, wobbled on my lap from mypee-peedance.

“What?” Mom snapped back at me from the front seat. She immediately noticed the silver pouch in my hand. “I told you no more liquids until we reached Nana and Pop-Pop’s.”

She grabbed the juice pouch from my hands—and must have squeezed too hard because clear yellow liquid shot out of the straw like lava from a volcano and dripped down her wrist and onto the sleeve of her pink jacket.

“Damn it!” she shouted, holding her hand out in the air like she had touched dog poop. Her cheeks glowed red when she turned back to me with eyes big like plates. I had ruined her Chanel suit and she was mad.

“Maris Marie Schuler!” she screamed. “Look at this mess. Do you know how much this cost?”

That question wasn’t supposed to be answered. Everything she owned had cost a lot. Mom liked expensive things so much that Dad had stopped asking about the prices whenever she went shopping. Nana was the same way with Pop-Pop. Everything in their house at the lake was white…like a hospital…and cost Mom’s favorite price,expensive.

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