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,"

"He tried to kill me and my

rising to her feet. She stood and gawked all over at her dwelling before saying, "Ya come all de way here to

still lying on the floor, seemingly too horrified to even make a single move. "Do you know him?"

Cusha gave Lynnette the most intense eye roll she could before replying in a deep tone, "You a damn fool, child.

"I know, that's

mouth!" Cusha fired back. "Dat still not explain why dose men come here! Weh yuh

just told you what I was

not de whole story," Cusha flung her blade

"My parents think I came all the way here for drug rehab! That's why I'm able to be away for so long! They

dere house, and den ya come here to cause

being here is work! I've never asked

streets! I have all dese headaches!

word. She attempted to head

"No, ya go now! Ya be trouble for

the steps nearly tripping along the way before she made it to her bike and got

an airplane or 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, was a rundown shack-like place of industry. Complete with rusted planks

of 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 death and mutilating sea turtles. Ignoring each and every

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

Mr. Salva, an older, broad-shouldered man, turned to Lynnette and smiled, "Ahh, one of my best. We still don't have enough work for you to be here an

I'm here. I

Salva looked completely taken aback by the sudden news. "How ya leave me? I still need you after

and now." She said in a rushed pant.

I understand. I pay ya what I owed ya from de last two

you." Lynnette said as she watched the man

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

"Lynn." Jose stepped up

at that second before turning around to see Jose's

"Why are you

"You heard that?" She

could hear a pin drop in dis

was in no mood to explain herself. She wanted out of the country like a

to me. I'm sorry that it had to

are." Mr. Salva said as he

Salva's hand before beginning for the door. But

"Lynn, let

down the steps before they came to a stop at her bicycle. "I know your father has a

"But...I just need to know someting. Are you leaving because of

could do was giggle at the man's ever so

only person that I could actually believe in since I've been here. It's just that...I came here searching for something. But I'm a fool. Point blank, Jose, I'm a

both of Lynnette's hands. "Come with me,

"To where," Lynnette

he pulled Lynnette along to

Jose then led Lynnette up some old rusted stairs that dead-ended at an equally rusted, metal door. Lynnette was

the middle of the floor. It was a medium sized type of room. Lynnette could tell that it hadn't been used in quite a while. The metal walls were nearly peeling away

"Where are we?"

said as he picked up a cloth bag from

watched in braced anticipation as the man opened the bag and took out a

thing from all angles before turning up her nose and looking straight at

toy to

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

"When I was a boy, I used to be scared of de thunderstorms. My father gave dat to me one day to keep my mind