Vicious Memories

Chapter 11

Northeast of the village's main clearing, about forty yards north of the rocky outcropping that housed the sleeping caves, a beautifully shaded grove lounged under the canopy of a monkeypod tree.

"Alice, are you ready?" Gabriel asked. "Good. It's all yours."

Other than the rocks that formed the caves the tree was the only thing that rose higher ten feet in the air in the entire village.

"Called a monkeypod tree according to Alice," Cooper had said. "She said it's also called a rain tree because of how green the grass underneath it is. See, the leaves curl up and close at night, like they're out for a nap, which lets the rain reach the ground easily. During the day the canopy opens up and keeps the grass cool and shaded. The little pods on the leaves drop off and act as a sort of fertilizer."

I couldn't stop staring.

The tree towered sixty feet above the ground. It's bark was deep brown, the leaves a lovely mossy color, but it was neither the tree's height nor its color that made it distinctive - it was the massive canopy, easily 200 feet across, held up by a magnificent latticework of twisting branches, that was so remarkable. It was shaped like a gigantic living umbrella. In the open space, surrounded by nothing but wild grass and flowers, it became a monument to some old and forgotten god of nature. Tiny little pods, just a few inches long, waved in the wind like pieces of pink cotton candy.

A single line of flowers circled the canopy and sent up a rich and overpowering aroma.

"Alice's work," Cooper had said as I took a deep breath. "She tends to them every few days. Puts some stuff on the tops to make the animals leave 'em alone."

When I saw what the area was used for I finally understood why it felt like such a sacred place.

Twenty feet from the base of the tree, just far enough to get some distance between the huge, gnarled roots, several disturbances jutted from the grass. Circles of smooth stones with a larger block at their head had freshly picked flowers set gently in their midst. I counted more than ten.

This was their graveyard.

At the front of the group Gabriel rejoined the first row of villagers as another figure broke off to take his place. Alice stepped up to a freshly dug grave as the sun first kissed the horizon. She turned to us calmly, but avoided making eye contact with anyone.

When she spoke, it was the first time I had ever heard her voice.

"Seven-hundred-and-fifteen days ago," she said quietly, "I woke up on this island confused and afraid. On that day, two remarkable things happened to me. To all of us. We experienced the first day of the rest of our lives. And we adopted a new family. Jessica was a big part of that family.

"A year ago Jessica confided something to me that she would continue to speak about until she died. I don't know why she told me, maybe because I'm usually very quiet, or because she thought I would understand where she was coming from because I also feel like an outsider sometimes. What she told me was that she felt like a failure. That she felt useless, a drag on the village resources, dependent on our kindness and charity. She felt unappreciated because she was not a good hunter, or a good fisherman, or a good farmer, builder, chef, doctor, or anything else."

The villagers all shifted, unease palpable. Two of the group began to sob softly.

"But she was wrong about those things, because that's not what we thought." Alice surveyed the space directly above the crowd's head. "Was it?"

"No," came the muttered response.

"She's lying right here," Alice said quietly, gesturing at the ground, "ten feet below us because have to dig our graves extra deep so the animals can't get at our dead. Soon she won't be able to hear you. Is that what we thought of her?"