The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

"As you can see here, in this once sparkling, blue sea, blackness has taken over. This gelatinous filth has managed to wash ashore on this glorious island. An island known for its lush beauty and serene beaches, now...polluted beyond recognition.

Could it be an environmental mistake? Some sort of oil leak? Or something even more sinister? Just last evening, one of the police stations went up in flames. Could the tumultuous elections here be just an ominous sign of the unsettling calamities that have taken control of this setting? Just what exactly is taking place here on this once peaceful and—

"Uh, Silas, you've got someone making faces behind you." Rebecca made an X with her arms.

Taken off guard, Silas spun around to see two, young white men waving at the camera in front of them as though they wanted to be stars.

"Buzz off, ya braggards!" Silas shooed both of the annoying men away in the other direction before turning back to Rebecca and Robbie and dropping his shoulders, "Are we ever gonna get through this nightmare or am I gonna have to get drunk each and every day here?"

Lynnette, who was standing with her bike, along with some others, was steadily watching with sullen eyes as the waves brought more and more of the black sludge onshore from out of the sea. The ooze didn't saturate the entire beach, but it was prominent enough to where a sixty yard proximity had to be closed off in order to figure out what was happening.

Lynnette looked on as the always burdened Silas and his crew carried on down a more isolated portion of the beach while others just examined. The Millers, who Lynnette had just met the day before, stood at the foot of the waves hand in hand and just looked on in silent dismay before eventually turning and strolling away. For Lynnette, deep down, she probably could have figured out what on earth was taking shape, but it just wasn't in her to do so. She honestly could have cared less at that point about anything, let alone some nastiness that was washing ashore.

The more people began to sift away from the scene that morning the more Lynnette herself wanted to put more distance between her and the world. She sat down on the seat of her bike and trudged through the sand until her tires met with the road. She had to be at The Kabal in three hours, but that wasn't registering in her lethargic brain. Ever since first arriving in Jamaica she wanted to go back home, but after the events of the day before, the longing to leave was within arm's reach.

Ever since leaving work the day before Lynnette just wandered about the beach either staring out at the water or simply resting underneath a palm tree. She even managed to spend the night at the beach, allowing the waves to put her to a restful slumber. The woman tooled down the always busy street until she made it to her dwelling. Lynnette placed her bike against the steps before slowly marching up. Her entire body felt like jelly; her hands didn't even touch the railings as she plodded up the steps with the emptiest look on her sunburnt face.

The very instant she approached the door she pushed it open only to have a hard object knock her to the ground. Lynnette's once sluggish body came to stunning life right then as she looked up to see a wild-eyed Cusha standing above her with a shaking, balled up right fist.

"Where ya been, girl?" Cusha hollered as she continued to press towards Lynnette.

Lynnette struggled to get to her feet but Cusha, with her large girth, kept shoving her back to the floor.

"Waa gwaan," the angry woman questioned.

"What do you mean?" Lynnette screamed back.

"Look around ya, girl!"

Lynnette stopped scooting backwards long enough to take a view at the hovel that appeared even more unkempt than usual. The cooking pot, as well as the dining table and other pots and pans were strewn all over the floor. The curtains that concealed both bedrooms were torn down.

"Where was ya last night, girl?" Cusha continued to yell.

"What happened here?"

"Dey came in and tore me place down, dat's what!"

"Who, dammit," Lynnette said aloud.

"Who knows?" Cusha tossed her arms all around. "But all dese years no one come in here and rob me until now!"

Pointing at herself, Lynnette asked, "You're blaming me?"

"Dey ask for you, girl!"

"Who," Lynnette attempted to get up.

But Cusha was too wound up to answer another question. The woman reached to the floor and picked up a sharp knife before pouncing on top of Lynnette and pointing the utensil at her throat. The only thing Lynnette could possibly do at that juncture was sweat.

"Now, who are ya, and why ya here?"

"I told you who I was!"

"Dey say ya lookin' for somebody! Ya never tell me you was lookin' for somebody when ya showed up!"

Lynnette held her breath against the seething, sharp blade that desired so much to carry out its user's wishes.

"I...I'm here looking for Arthur Bushard!"

reared back and strangely studied Lynnette. "Ya come all de way here for dat," Cusha's arm

kill me and my son! I'm

She stood and gawked all over at her

Lynnette was still lying on the floor, seemingly too horrified to even make

the most intense eye roll she could before replying in a deep tone, "You a damn fool, child. Dat man and his

"I know,

"Dat still not explain why dose men come here! Weh

just told

"But not de whole story," Cusha flung her blade back

think I came all the way here for drug rehab! That's why I'm able to be away

ya out of dere house, and den ya

work! I've never asked

on de street! But now ya can go back to de streets! I have all dese

attempted to head straight

now!

withheld and simply sidestepped Cusha on her way out the door with a red face and two poked out lips. She stormed down the steps nearly tripping along the way before she made it to her bike and got on. Lynnette had all but forgotten about

boat couldn't get

broken down fish stable straight ahead of her that sat along the other side of the beach. It, much like most of the other businesses on the island,

seafood was nearly bludgeoning to the senses. There were several assembly lines: One for stripping fish, one for jellyfish, and another for shellfish and two others strictly for the detail of clubbing to

"Excuse me, Mr. Salva." Lynnette blatantly cut

one of my best.

Shaking her head, Lynnette remarked, "That's not why I'm here. I just came

the sudden news. "How ya leave me? I

go home, and now." She said in a rushed pant. "That's it, plain and simple. I need to

and nodded his head. "Okay, I understand. I pay ya what

"Thank you." Lynnette said as she watched

too enthralled in their duties to even give her a simple glance. That was exactly the way she wanted it. Lynnette didn't need any stares or bad looks pointed in her direction. She was already a ball of nerves and rage, one false look and she would have burned the slaughterhouse down to the

"Lynn." Jose stepped up

around to see Jose's perturbed face staring at her. "Oh, hey, Jose,"

"Why are you

heard that?"

could hear a pin drop in dis

herself. She wanted out of the country like a

such a good friend to me. I'm sorry that it had to

"Okay, here you are." Mr. Salva said as he came and handed Lynnette her

The woman took her money and shook Salva's hand before beginning for the door.

"Lynn, let me speak wit

down the steps before they came to a stop at her bicycle. "I know your father has a truck. Would he be able to

him." Jose nodded his head. "But...I

at the man's ever so

It's just that...I came here searching for something. But I'm a fool.

Jose took both of Lynnette's hands. "Come with

"To where,"

pulled Lynnette along to the

the rear part of the slaughterhouse. Jose then led Lynnette up some old rusted stairs that dead-ended at an equally rusted, metal door. Lynnette was in no ill mood for any more surprises, but she could always trust Jose, no matter

type of room. Lynnette could tell that it hadn't been used in quite a while. The metal walls were nearly peeling away while the floor itself felt as if it would collapse at any moment. The roof seemed to be the only

"Where are

afraid." Jose said as he

the bag and took out a small object which he promptly handed

angles before turning up her nose

"It is a toy to give

Lynnette studied the thing once more. "What kind of toy?" She began

of de thunderstorms. My father gave dat to me one day to keep my mind occupied wit other tings dan de storm. It's a spinning