Trinity & Saint George

By Sharon Toote

A story of loyalty and love bridging the great wealth of the Romanovs, the society of The Duke and The Duchess of Windsor, voodoo and an island family. Trinity and Tasha are best friends from school. Tasha is an hermaphrodite and a world class gemologist who inherits a fortune from her Romanov ancestors. She dies of testicular cancer and leaves everything to the person who has always been the most loyal to her. This is the first book of a trilogy of what a family will do to protect each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329563735

Book preview

Trinity & Saint George

Trinity & St. George

By Sharon Toote

Preface

What if…..our fate was crafted long ago, then played out for our participation, like stars that have flashed their last rays, but only perceived in the night sky millenniums later? We are taught to believe that we can control our destiny, but we can’t change fate. Whatever results are gotten, that is the result fated.

How can it be believed that we control our fate when our lives are so twisted together? Trinity Sands and Tasha Romanova did not expect that their friendship was affected by events that happened decades before they were born.

This is more than a story about two remarkable women who were unwaveringly loyal to each other from the time their friendship began as young children. It is more than a story of a friendship that bridged unimaginable wealth from a great civilization and royal status to a simple small Island nation.

This is a story about family, relationships and unconditional love.

This novel is entirely fictional, with no intent to depict actual persons or events other than those within a few historical illusions.

All rights reserved

Part 1

Trinity

Very early, on a Saturday morning in July of 1999, Trinity Sands was heading back from her run, not a far distance, but a power run to the canals. The silhouettes of trees were outlined, softly, in inky blue and deep purple shadows as the sun was just starting its ascent in the east. The dark outlines of coconut and palm trees lay like grotesque yet sultry medusas on the ground and the swaying Spanish moss in the cottonwood trees revealed scintillas of orange and yellow hues from the street lights.

It was quiet, except, for the roosters’ crow, one after the other, starting from daybreak (as said on the Island, ‘day-clean’). In between, the ring-neck doves cooed in chorus in the eves of houses and on branches in the trees.  A layer of mist lingered in silky swirls on the ground and the morning dew made the gardenias and night blooming jasmines along the path smell even sweeter.

There were other runners and walkers on the trail. Some were way ahead of her and some were well behind. Except for a courteous salutation, there was no attempt to make conversation. That’s how it always was. Trinity gave no thought to this run being any different from any other, but she didn’t know that this morning she was being stalked.

She didn’t realize the danger until it was almost too late. No bark alerted her. She did not hear its claw armoured paws crushing the leaves on the ground, until it was close, very close. The sound made her turn her head and when she did, she saw it coming at her, at top speed, baring its teeth and growling. Stopping immediately, she faced it dead on. She knew that a person should never try to outrun a dog, because you can’t, but that was not the reason she didn’t try. She didn’t run because she was immobilized with fear.

The red-eyed hellhound kept its head low, snarling, advancing at her with increasing aggression, moving in semi-circles around her as it chopped sharply at her shins. She looked around for anything that she could climb onto or escape into. She had to do something. She had to stand her ground. She had to fight.

Get away from me! Get away from me! she screamed.

It slowly advanced, one paw in front of the other, growling, baring its large bloodied teeth.

Quivering and afraid, she said, The Lord is my shepherd, I will fear no evil.

The bitch kept coming at her, though, unrelentingly. It seemed to her, getting bigger and bigger with each step. As she backed away, it snapped its razor sharp canine and incisor filled jaws at her legs. The stench from it assaulted her. She kept moving back and it followed, salivating globs of fire. She almost lost her footing over a tree branch on the ground and she reached out her arms to regain her balance.

She heard herself screaming, Get away! Get away! Then without cognition, she said, Get thee behind me, Satan., as if the words were put in her mouth, but not in her conscientiousness.

Without thinking, she picked up the branch as the dog sprang for her neck. With a supernatural force she swung the branch at it, hitting it on its ribs. It fell on its back just a few feet from her. The dog right sided itself, then, in an instant, bounded at her, again. She swung the branch hard, again, like a bat, as she let out a guttural groan. The wood disintegrated when it made contact with the dog’s neck and shoulder as it was rotted and full of termites and worms. The dog stepped back, shaking off the pain caused by the impact, with its head and shoulders low, snarling. It seemed, to her, that it paused to work out a plan for the best way to get to her neck and clamp down on her windpipe and arteries.

She kicked dirt at it until she remembered that she had pepper spray on her key ring. As she fumbled with getting the spray canister off of the lanyard hanging down from her neck, the dog advanced on her, again; furiously, stealthily, trying to get behind her. She could hear its jaws snapping as it delivered rapid fire chops to her legs to unbalance her, again, causing her to lose her footing and tumble to the wet ground.

Just as he pounced, she was able to aim the Mace Pepper Gun at the dog’s face and release the contents of its cartridge. It fell on top of her. She mightily pushed it away with her free arm. The dog landed on its side, yelping from the burning irritant in its eyes. While still supine, she kept spraying the dog until it writhed on the ground, beside her, rubbing its front paws over its head.

She quickly got up. With her arm outstretched, she held the Mace spray gun and went closer to it. She was scared, angry and vengeful. She didn’t want to run away, anymore. She wanted to hurt it, so she pumped the toxin directly into its eyes and mouth. It screamed as it tried to cower in retreat, stumbling into obstacles in its way. Trinity quickly recognized another branch on the ground as the branch of the Holy Wood tree. She picked up the heavy wood and beat the dog until it was dead.

The capsaicin in the spray was now all around her. Her eyes stung and turned fiery red while tears flooded over her lids, leaving streaks on her cheeks. She put the back of her hands over them, desperate to rub away the toxin and the pain. The veins in her temples and forehead bulged. She tried to catch her breath, but each time she inhaled, she coughed again and repeatedly. Each exhale was accompanied by a high pitched wheeze.

The dog was dead, but she was still immobilized. She dropped the gun to her side as she trembled, fearfully, looking around for others.

Where did it come from? she mewled, her legs folding under her. She was shaking from the adrenaline rush.

The dog had long matted black hair, like a bear and massive shoulder and chest muscles. A disproportionately large lower jaw jutted from a small and triangular head. She knew that a lot of her neighbours had dogs for protection, but she believed this dog to be one of the feral dogs that were being seen in increasing numbers in the neighbourhood.

Her next door neighbour, Mitch, was just a little ahead of her and heard her screams. He turned and ran to help. By the time as he got to her, she was able to breathe better.

What happened? he asked, with concern written on his face.

This dog just attacked me. It just came out of nowhere. she panted, pointing at it.

Are you hurt?

I don’t think so. I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life. It wouldn’t back off. If I didn’t spray mace in its face, it was going to keep coming at me. I swear it was going to kill me.

Mitch helped Trinity to rise while looking around them as they headed back. He was very worried that there could be more lurking on the path. He and Trinity warned the others. At the bottom of the lane they formed a group as, one after the other, they abandoned their exercise in fear of being mauled. Each one had an experience with the feral dogs that they revealed.

I can’t let my children play in the park because of them. One even came into our yard last week and took one of my dog, Tippy’s, puppies. She fought with it before it took off with the puppy in its mouth. It bit up Tippy’s head and ears pretty badly. I had to take her to the vet. I know they’ll be back.

I’m glad that you killed that one. They all need to be killed. said another. I’m ready to put poison out for them. They took my son’s rabbits.

Can we poison them? asked yet another, who they saw frequently exercising, but no one knew exactly where he lived.

It was an option that was seriously discussed, but they agreed to call the authorities first, because something had to be done. It had become too dangerous to ignore. The dogs were out of control. Caleb, who was walking with his wife, Sheba, said he would call the Humane Society the minute they opened later in the morning. Unsaid, but understood, was that some drastic action was going to be taken. It was now bright enough to see clearly.

Have you been burned by something. asked Sheba, pulling at Trinity’s shirt. Your sleeve looks like it has been burned.

It does?

It’s still smoking. It smells like phosphorus, like a burning match. Can’t you feel it?

Trinity pulled the material forward as she craned her neck.

I was feeling something warm. I thought it was just the pepper spray and the fight.

Hurriedly, she pulled off the outer shirt that she was wearing. Mitch threw his water over it to stop the smoking.

I thought you were going to strip, but thank God you are wearing another shirt under it. said Mitch, laughing.

Wow! she answered. I had ordered some ordinary workout tees, but they sent the wrong order. They sent flame resistant tee shirts in colours that I didn’t order. I decided to keep them. I am wearing one for the first time, now. Thank God for that.

How could you have been set on fire, though? asked James.

I can’t say for sure, Mitch. And, I know that you guys will think that I am crazy, but that dog already had blood on its teeth before I hit it and it looked like solar flares were coming out of its eyes and nose. Just like a dragon!

He breathed fire on you, Trinity? Really? he asked.

I said you would think that I am crazy. Anyway, I have to go back for my keys. I must have dropped them on the ground.

Mitch, Sheba, Caleb and James walked back with Trinity to the spot where she was attacked. The dog’s body was not there.

It was right here. You saw it, Mitch. It couldn’t have gotten up and just walk away. I smashed its head in. Trinity told them.

You can see burn marks around here. said Caleb.

There are burn marks all over here, as well. How can that be? asked Mitch.

The branches were still there. The acrid smell of burning phosphorus still lingered. The lanyard, with the keychain and the mace gun attached, was still there.

Where did the dog go? Who could have moved it without us seeing? Mitch asked, again.

Sheba shook her head. We never use to have problems with these kinds of dog, before. she said.

That’s because there were no dogs like these. Some people say that these dogs are voodoo dogs from hell. My hyshin, who has been here for over thirty years, told me the other day that these dogs are voodoo dogs. He told me that when they make a zombi, the soul from the person is put into a dog then the dog has to obey the sorcerer that made the zombi.

Are you serious? Are you just saying that is what you heard or are you saying that because you believe it?

"I am finding it hard to not believe the stories. You know they still practice their voodoo when they come here. The ones that came a long time ago are so humble, but these new set, they are bold, they don’t even try to hide it, anymore. They are terrorizing everyone."

Who, the dogs or the people? asked Caleb.

I don’t believe that in a literal way, but I can’t explain what happened. I have never seen a dog that looked and acted like that before. I felt like I was battling a demon. And, now, its carcass has disappeared.

That’s right. There are too many unexplained things going on.

As they walked her home, Mitch said, Just be careful.

Trinity showered and washed her hair. It was fully grey with a few black strands. She was running late as she drove to the dock downtown. She was thankful that the ferry had not yet arrived meaning she made it in time for the crossing to The Yoga Retreat. She walked on the jetty, still shaken and sat on a wooden bench on the side of a hut, reflecting on her experience. She looked forward to the class to release some of the tension in her shoulders and neck, no doubt caused by the run in with the dog.

The sun was already shooting razor sharp yellow shards of light through red clouds onto the shimmering salt water. Old folk say that red clouds in the morning mean a warning to expect really bad weather later. Old folk know. Trinity looked down into the water and could see that it wasn’t very deep, but it was almost crystal clear.

She walked closer to the edge of the jetty and sat on the concrete steps that descended into the water. They were cold and still damp with morning dew. Looking down, she spotted a tiny jelly fish, sea horses, a juvenile angelfish, conch shells and an old propeller that looked like it had been there for a long time. Green algae was everywhere, especially on the massive wood posts holding up the jetty. Small Jacks darted around it, nibbling the nourishing vegetation.

Brightly coloured rowboats, white sailed sloops and outboard boats bobbed up and down on calm amethyst ripples under them. Fishermen, who were transferring their wares from their boats to the hut restaurants that peppered Potter’s Cay, did so without making any sound.  One squatted to collect a bucket of water to clean the fish and conch that he would sell during the day.

On the opposite side of the bay, across from Potter’s Cay, she could see the long brown-haired boatman from the Retreat making preparations to come across the harbour to pick up their early morning guests. He climbed down into the boat and steered a straight line to her. By the time it pulled up to the dock, alongside the steps, there were devotees gathering in wait.

Her husband, Robert, used to come frequently. He believed, very much, in the holistic approach to life and was more involved with the mind body continuum and the meaning and purpose of the Sanskrit mantra chants. Trinity was in no way a devotee, but she liked the serenity. She came just to exercise, while overlooking the beautiful pristine water of the bay. They chanted, she prayed. There was nothing wrong with that, she believed. To each his own.

That morning’s class was on a raised wooden stage, like a giant dance floor on the beach. White flags waved gently from eight upright posts. Embowered in palms, a thatched roof protected the pupils from the sun and rain, but there were no walls. She could smell incense all around, a different one from each direction, along with the salty smell of the ocean.

From that side of the harbour, the whole bay was open for everyone to see. Small and large boats were docking at various piers. Grand office windows reflected the sun, dazzling, often too much, making her eyes squint. In between and further down, with their own private docks, were beautifully painted pastel coloured mansions in hues of pink, blue, green, purple, yellow, violet; all matched like the reflected  sunlight through a prism.

When the class ended, they got into the Savasana pose. She laid flat on her back, closed her eyes and relaxed. She became so relaxed that she did not hear the Yogacharya say, Namaste (I honour you), but she heard the class say it back. After they all got up, she picked up her mat and rolled it up.

Neatly positioned around the platform, overlooking the ocean, were large brown wicker chairs, with soft lilac pillows. Saffron and aquamarine coloured flags gently swayed in the breeze as the Casuarinas whispered to each other. The Ocean, on this side of the Island, was deeper and more active, with each wave crashing loudly onto the shore flinging saline spray high into the air. White froth on the water’s edge chased long beaked shore birds looking for crabs in the sand.

She liked that, there, the quietude was never interrupted by someone talking her head off, selling raffle tickets or begging for sponsorship for a child to go with their team to play soccer or some proud mother showing her family pictures. No, there was none of that. With a cup of Jasmine tea, she sat in peace and quiet, gazing out at the ocean with no interruptions. She heard the call of the sea gulls, sometimes lyrical and sometimes frantic, coupled with the sound of the ocean tide.

Oddly, to some, Trinity never liked the feeling of sand on her skin or on her feet, particularly on her toes. This was so bewildering to other people, seeing as she was surrounded by some of the most glorious beaches in the world with pristine white, yellow and pink sand. She liked the water, but could not walk on the sand. And, her family’s name was Sands. How bizarre was that?

After she finished drinking her tea, she decided that it was time to leave as the sun was now almost at a right angle overhead and scorching. It was the height of summer, when each ray felt like a blowtorch on the skin. The next ferry to the Island was about to leave, so, she gathered her towel and mat and put them in her straw bag.

On the other side of the bay, after she was helped off of the boat, she walked to her car. She reminded herself that the Islands were on a tropical storm and possible hurricane watch. She looked at the sky for signs of it approaching. Directly overhead the turquoise sky was brushed by feathery white cirrus clouds that were being pushed by dense, dark anvil shaped cumulonimbus clouds gathering ominously from the southeast.

Tropical storms were inconvenient, but the news of an approaching hurricane was taken very seriously. As expected, they had all gone through tropical storms and hurricanes many times, so preparations were always ongoing throughout the year. She had lots of water, batteries, a radio, non-perishable food, candles, camp lights and emergency kits in the storage closet on the first floor by the kitchen. Stashed money (in case the banks went down, which was unlikely because they all had their own generators) and a rifle  were in the chifferobe in her bedroom.

But she, like many others, still had not gotten a generator for those times because two hurricanes prior, a young boy was electrocuted when he turned on a generator at his house, while he was standing in water. That scared her. She remembered, too, that as a child, a past Hurricane was so fierce on one of the northern Islands that the cemetery that was close to the beach flooded and old coffins popped out and upended. Body parts, whole bodies and skeletons were strewn about with rotted coffin liners. But, some bodies were not in coffins. Trinity remembered her Uncle Fred telling her that his father told him that, sometimes, they couldn’t get wood to make coffins so the bodies were stitched into a couple of large flour bags which they got from grocers and bakeries. Funny thing was that there was no odour. The old folk say that is because the hurricane blew the stench away and it never came back.

She went to the gas station to fill the car tank and, just to be sure, she took two approved containers with her, as well. Then, there was something else that she had to do. After she left the station, she went to look for her uncle. Howard James Sands was her father’s youngest of two brothers. Her father, Dr. Peter Johan Sands, was a Pediatrician and one of the last of the Flying Doctors. Trinity’s other uncle, Frederick Jasper Sands, lived in Paris.

Howard was a brilliant child, mannerly and thoughtful of others.  His close friends called him ‘Philly Corn’ although Trinity did not know why. He did his homework and studied without prompting and he received straight As. He was a handsome boy and always had an eye for the ladies. Howard was in his final year of internship at The University of the West Indies in Jamaica and was completing a semester of Public Health for which he had to have field experience. So, he went every where his brother went.

It was reported that another group of the deluge of Haitian migrants had been shipwrecked and stranded on a small cay as they tried to get to the United States. There were supposed to be seventeen children on the cay. From what they knew, there were eight who were between the ages of seven to fifteen years and six less than six years old. It was believed that there were, also, three babies who were suckling. In addition, there were possibly twenty two adults on the cay, all suffering from malnutrition and dehydration and only God knew what kind of disease.

When Dr. Sands received the call about the starving migrants, there was no question that he would fly to the location. Whatever Dr. Sand’s thoughts were of the illegal migrant adults, he could not let the children die. The children had no choice whether they wanted to endanger their lives on the high seas, in shark infested waters, on a patched up rickety sloop.

The Government struggled between rescuing the unending convoys of Haitians and turning them away, out of the country’s waters, at gunpoint. The Haitians would all tell you that they really want to make it to the United States, but few did. Most stayed in the Islands of the country that could not afford them. They relied heavily on the medical, social and educational system and they used every benefit that they could get, but contributed little to the treasury.

The boat that carried this group of Haitians was a poorly built wood and metal junk. The masterminds behind the human trafficking crammed them into their unseaworthy boats charging, even for the non-migrant, an exorbitant sum of money. If the ‘Captain’ detected that the Defence Force boats, that patrolled the waters, were on to them, they made the migrants jump overboard, knowing that the Defence Force would have to rescue people in the water, giving them time to speed off.

If they refused to get off, merciless and cold hearted crew members held them down then threw them overboard, while the ‘security’ pointed their guns at them, all too ready to shoot and kill, if need be. It didn’t matter if the boat was nowhere near an Island or if the person that they threw overboard was two, twenty two or sixty two. They were less concerned, even, if the person could swim.

When the boat reached an Island, or any rock, its Captain certainly could not risk detection by docking to allow the migrants to walk off the boat on a gang plank. They told the migrants to jump into the water and walk to the Island, as the water was very shallow and there were compatriots waiting in hiding to take them to safety.

There were no inhabitants on the rock. There was no one waiting for them. There was no water. There was no food. That’s all it was, a big rock. Once one trip was done, the boat turned around to bring another load, to leave them somewhere, as well. Unfortunately, Peter’s own countrymen were some of profiteers who organized the smuggling activity. Some were arrested and jailed, others carried on, while their operations remained undetected or turned a blind-eye to.

After he heard that a group of migrants were stranded, Gregory Dean, who lived in the Exumas with his wife and children, brought out his boat to give aid, but after surveying the situation, he decided that he dare not get close to that rock. He knew that they would all try to board his boat and cause it to capsize. On top of that, nobody knew what diseases they were carrying. He waited for the Defence Force boats, with armed officers to come for them.

Even though Dr. Sands was an excellent pilot, he encountered very rough turbulence that day, but neither he, nor his colleagues, including Uncle Howard, wanted to turn back. They knew the risk. They thought of the children who were more susceptible to dehydration and hypothermia, who could die very easily if they had not already done so. In an effort to bring every medical thing that they would need, the plane was dangerously overweight.

Gregory heard the sea plane overhead and turned his head towards it just as it came down at a steep angle into the black water. You would think that a sea plane should be able to land on the sea. Well, that is true, but the weight and speed and the angle that the plane came down at, caused it to break apart on impact and sink with its passengers. The Haitians looked on, impassively, too sick to react.

Immediately, Gregory turned his attention to rescuing anyone from the crash. He steered his boat over to where the plane went in, looking all around for anything. His deckhand got on the radio, calling everyone to come in to help. Almost immediately, an oil slick formed on the water. Using a grappling hook and a hand net, Gregory pulled in debris that started to come to the surface. Three doctors and two nurses along with medical supplies and water were lost. Trinity’s father was killed in 1965, the year Trinity graduated high school.

Uncle Howard was the sole survivor. They pulled him out thinking that he had to be dead. When they laid him on the deck he raised a handless forearm. The first Defence Force medical boat arrived and took him on board. No other survivors from the crash were found. The adults on the cay were rescued. All of the children died before they could be taken off of that rock which was three miles long and two miles wide.

Howard suffered multiple broken bones, particularly a shattered pelvis and right femur, the loss of his right hand, partial evisceration and the loss of his right eye. He had a low tolerance for pain and developed a high tolerance for pain meds over the course of the three months spent in Intensive Care followed by a further two months of general care. Then, he was released. He asked why they didn’t just let him die.

Physical pain and nightly terrors plagued him. He drank himself into stupors to fight the flashbacks of hitting that cold black sea water, slamming into the instrument panel, through the wind shield and nearly drowning. He should have received treatment for post traumatic stress disorder, but he refused to go to rehab or counseling. Every night, he dreamed of the accident and every night and day, he drank. In six months, had he not been nearly killed, he would have graduated with his Medical degree. If the crash had never happened, he would have been Dr. Howard Sands.

Instead, he became a fall down, happy drunk who refused all offers of help and preferred to live on the streets where no one had any expectations of him and he had no one to answer to. Trinity even bought him a few glass eyes before, but he kept ‘losing’ them and it became obvious that he just didn’t want one. He never asked anyone for money because he collected a small disability payment and that was enough for him. Where he went to at night, she did not know.

So, Trinity always had to go looking, hard, for him. She heard that, this time, he was together with a wife who was a prostitute. She found him sitting outside a liquor store, in a dirty tan coloured bush jacket, a navy blue basketball player’s pants and a yellow bandana tied low over his forehead with the material brought down low on the right side to cover his empty eye socket. He, also, wore on his feet a pair of women’s green flip flops with a flower on top that were too small for him so his heels hung over the back end.

‘Rum Blossom’ had his lips burned pink, raw and swollen, the tissue around his eye, puffy, and his nose, bulbous. The smell of old alcohol and sewerage emanated from him. She could feel his hot breath from his decayed teeth and it was overwhelming. Trinity spoke with him for a while.

I don’t need to come to you, honey. he insisted.

Where are you going to go during the storm?

I‘ll maybe go to one of them shelters. Probably Holy Cross Church or the Salvation Army.

Come with me, please. she begged.

I can’t leave, Trinity. I have to think of my woman, as well. Where she gonna go?

Where is she?

Uncle Howard pointed to a frowzy woman wearing a billowing green skirt, sitting down on an overturned tin tub, on the side of the liquor store. Her legs were spread far apart with her elbows on her knees and a puppy hammocked in the folds of the skirt between her knees. She was holding a fast food box and sucking on a chicken bone while three mongrel dogs lay by her side, chewing on anything she discarded. She then threw the remnants of the box on the ground and sea gulls swooped in to pick up any scraps then flew away, just as quickly. She put her fingers in her mouth to loosen the meat that was wedged between her gum and inner cheeks. Uncle Howard insisted that he could not come without Cali. Cali told him that the flea carrying mutt puppy that she always carried around had to come, too. For Trinity, this was asking a lot.

Trinity stopped to take a deep breath, and then said, OK, but we have to go now.

When she pulled up to the house, she was gasping for fresh air. They left the stench of filth on the car seats. She showed them the washroom and encouraged them to clean up, as quickly as they could, before the electricity went off, stopping the pump that brought the water from the well. There was always a reserve, in the holding tank in the house, so this was not exactly true, but she hoped that it would convince them to bathe.

Trinity told Uncle Howard that she put some towels and a pair of pants and a shirt in the washroom for him. On the way up the stairs, she pointed to a storage closet and asked him to get the other cot out for Cali. Since she didn’t know that he would bring Cali with him, she went in her own closet to find something for her to wear. She returned with a pair of long gym pants, a tee shirt and jacket for Cali, two brand new toothbrushes, toothpaste, mouthwash, towels and soap, the same items that she would offer to any guest who needed toiletries.

Trinity insisted that the puppy had to stay downstairs. She was not a dog person. She grew up liking chickens and ducks and she kept eight hens, three roosters, three pullets, six chicks and four ducks in her coop. As a child growing up, the family’s neighbour, a man who everyone called Cat (or Mr. Cat to children), had a chicken coop. She liked nothing more than to be in it all day. She fed them, watched the eggs hatch and gave them names. She would go home stink of chicken poop, but she loved it. Still, to this day however, she never knew what Mr. Cat’s real name was.

Recently, two hens and two cocks disappeared from her backyard. She didn’t know why. She asked the Haitian labourer, Yonel, who had only started working in her yard since previous year, if he knew how the birds were disappearing, but he said that he couldn’t figure it out himself. Anyway, she told him, she would purchase more chicken wire to reinforce the coop the next time she went out shopping. 

About an hour later, she called down to them. Uncle Howard and Cali gingerly walked up the stairs. They looked and smelled better. Trinity pointed them to the dinner table and the Grouper fingers and French fries on it, something soft enough for them to chew because neither of them had any teeth to speak of. She also offered them some wine. Their eyes lit up with that and they soon became very animated.

Uncle Howard and Cali ate very quickly with their faces inches from their plates, stabbing at their food with their forks. Cali used her left hand to act as a pincer to bring the food to her mouth then they used their fingers to pry out the food that was stuck in the recesses in their gum. Then they all settled down into a slower pace, not unlike that which would happen among friends lingering over dinner, just talking.

Trinity knew that Uncle Howard would go into delirium tremors if he did not have alcohol during the hurricane, so she gave him two bottles of wine, a bottle of Bacardi Anejo Black, some soft drinks and water. She told him that that was all she had in the house.

Cali said that her name was Clarity Erin Collie. She was thirty-six years old, but looked fifty-six. It was difficult for Trinity to gauge what she looked like at a younger age because her very black skin was poxed with little cysts and abscesses and she looked dangerously thin. Her hair was corn rowed and tied up in an orange coarse clothed rag with little spikes of black hair poking though the wrap.

Cali said that she was left with her grandmother, after her mother was kidnapped and murdered. As Cali told her this, Trinity realized that she was talking about a well known case that enthralled the country when she was a teenager. Parents still use it as a cautionary tale about getting into cars with strangers.

Cali’s mother Miriam Collie, a day maid, was found, impaled through the vagina with a dried Poinciana pod. Her killer was a known taxi driver who offered her a ride from the gated community of the Lyford Cay millionaires where she worked for a couple who lived next door to Sir Sean Connery, Mr. Bond.

The night of her murder, her employer required her to work a small dinner party that evening. She had arranged a ride with her married sweetheart, but he got a message to her to say he couldn’t come for her, after all.

She cursed him, That cocksucker!

It was raining when she finally got off from work. No public bus ran at that time of night. Except for the airport and Lyford Cay, there was not much else out there, so she started walking in the rain, with no umbrella, hoping that someone would offer her a ride into town.

Hezekiah Wilson, an exceedingly ugly and saturnine man, passed her as he was going to the airport to pick up fares to bring back to the city. He had been a taxi driver for almost seventeen years. His vehicle was an old rusty white diesel Mercedes Benz that chugged like a small motor boat. He was portly and almost bald and he had gray eyelashes and grey hair growing out of his ears and nose. His pants were always belted high under his chest, covering his enormous belly.

The night he saw Miriam walking was rainy and cold. He had very few fares that day. He and another taxi driver had an argument, just before his last trip. The tourists refused to get into his chugging and rusty Mercedes Benz taxi, but he blamed the other driver for stealing his fares. Instead, he was dispatched one trip to take a family of locals home to the Anne’s Town area. As he headed back to the airport, he saw Miriam walking very quickly, soaking wet. He turned the taxi around. She thought that he was just being a good human being so they chatted as he headed in the general direction of her house.

Suddenly, he turned sharply into a dirt road in the Pine Barren on the way to the old slave settlement, Adelaide. She was panicked as she realized her fate. She tried to get out of the taxi, but the door handles were of no use. He drove through verdure stands to an old path thick with Gumelemi and Madeira trees, cut off the engine and lights and pulled her out of the car. She was found lying face down with her maids’ uniform still on near a golf course the next morning, by tourists playing an early round. Their ball went into the coppice and they found her nearby a nest of Yellow-crowned Night Heron when they went in search of it. Her stockings and panty had the seats ripped out. Crabs, fly larva and feral dogs had already started to feed on her.

When he came home at about three o’clock in the morning, he woke up his wife, Lilly, and told her to wash and iron his shirt and pants before she came back to bed. She dutifully did so to avoid a beating if she told him that she was tired and wanted sleep, too. She dare not ask why his face, neck and arms were lacerated and bleeding

Trinity asked Cali, Do you have any other family?

She said, My Grammy was on the pipe. She used to sell me to get her drugs. They say she died of AIDs, but I don’t believe that. Anyway, I didn’t have no place to live. None of my people would take me. And, since I was sixteen they wouldn’t take me into one of the children’s homes.

Once again she was left homeless.  She had little education so she did what she was taught to do. That was to prostitute. She said that she had a son and some old lady was looking after him, but she didn’t see him and she didn’t know where he was.

Trinity asked, Have you ever applied for a job in one of the fast food places?

She said, I tried two of them. One told me that she couldn’t consider me because my teeth were rotten down and the next one told me that I need to have a passport which I couldn’t get because my mother didn’t register me.

Continuing, she said, They say that I have to get a paper ‘after David’ who know when I was born, but I don’t know nobody name David.

Trinity laughed inside at the misunderstanding, but she thought Cali’s story heartbreaking.

Aren’t you afraid to be out on the streets?

I is always very afraid ‘cause I dis get beat up sometimes and rape, too. she relied. Only Howard never hurt me.

We’ve been together for nearly five months. I told her that I don’t want her to streetwalk, no more, but she says that she still has to because we don’t have enough money. added Howard.

Guessing what was on Trinity’s mind, Cali said, "They checked me when I was in the hospital last year after I got beat up. I couldn’t get my chest clear. The ammonia wasn’t getting better, but I didn’t have no AIDs or nothin’. I just had Philis one time and the other time I had ganarrea and tobarkalosis".

Trinity was flabbergasted, she took a deep breath.

Good Lord, what have I put myself into? she asked herself.

The dog barked incessantly with annoying ‘yip yip yips’ that were high pitched and repetitive for no reason. She had tiles and wood flooring, so not only was the sound not absorbed, but they were magnified. It barked all day and all night. At times, she wanted to ask Uncle Howard and Cali to leave with it, just to get the noise out of her house, but she couldn’t do that, neither would she. Cali asked Trinity if she had any food to feed it.

Now, I have to find food to feed the little mutt, too. she thought.

Uncle Howard scolded Cali, I told you not to keep that dog because we can’t feed it.

Trinity replied, It’s Okay. I’m pescatarian so I don’t have any meat, but I have some canned tuna. I’ll see.

Gesturing to Cali she said, Come.  Let’s get something.

She gave Cali a tin of tuna, a bowl and the can opener. She found some left over white rice in the fridge. She warmed that and put it in the bowl that she gave Cali who was still struggling with the can opener.

It’s okay, let me show you how.

When Trinity tried to fix Cali’s hands in the right position to use the opener, she pulled them away, sharply.

Never mind, you do it. she told Trinity, het up.

Trinity was puzzled, but finished opening the can. She put the contents in the bowl and handed it to Cali who grabbed it, turned around and went back to the table. She did not even thank her. Cali had seen Trinity wrap up the left over grouper fingers and place them in the fridge to eat later. She expected that she would have been given them to feed the dog. Trinity shook her head in disbelief. She did not like Cali in Uncle Howard’s life and wondered if she should voice that to him. Not then, in any case, she decided but maybe later. 

After they finished eating, Uncle Howard and Cali went back downstairs. Trinity took off her ring and watch that, lately, she wore infrequently and placed them by the food processor on the counter. She washed up and cleaned the kitchen.

From the stench, it was apparent that the dog did his business down stairs, too. She gave them some plastic bags to scoop up the feces and laid down some blue pads hoping that Cali would encourage the dog to do his business on them, instead. She told them that if they wanted anything to eat or drink they could help themselves to it.

By chance, her Uncle Frederick called from Europe. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, but they spoke on the phone at least once a month. He left when he was a young man, in 1945, years before Howard and her father crashed in the plane. The last time Fred was home, he tried to find Howard, but they couldn’t. They came to the conclusion that he hid away from them so as not to be seen by Fred and Uncle Fred was hurt by that.

Their father left the house to all three of his sons equally and Trinity’s father left his portion of ownership to her. Uncle Fred and Uncle Howard grew up there and were welcomed to stay for how ever long they wanted to. However, Uncle Fred said he had no interest in it, so he signed over his ownership to Trinity soon after his brother’s death. But, Uncle Howard had never been of ‘sound mind’ after the crash, so, he was unable to sign away his rights. That was fine by Trinity and she tried very hard to get him to come back to live there, to see if being there would provide some structure to his life, but he always said no.

She told Uncle Fred about the imminent hurricane and said how intuitive it was that he called when Uncle Howard was there.

He asked, Do you think he would want to speak to me? If he doesn’t want to, don’t make him. I think that he avoided seeing me when I was there, but maybe he wouldn’t mind speaking to me on the phone.

OK, I’ll see. she said.

She went down the stairs with the phone in her hand and told Uncle Howard that Uncle Fred was on the phone and asked if he would speak with him. He nodded in consent and took the phone from Trinity. Uncle Frederick was very pleased to hear his brother’s voice and they talked for a very long time. When they were through, Uncle Howard gave her the phone.

Uncle Fred said, I am grateful to hear his voice. The Lord will bless you for the care of your uncle. I am sure that no one else would let him and Cali into their home.

Thank you Uncle Fred. I just wish that he would let me help him more. she replied. I’ll call you after the hurricane has passed.

Goodbye, Sweetheart.

As the winds increased, it sounded like one long sustained very loud whistle. The rain pelted down in sheets from every direction onto the house. Trees leaned over from the fierceness of the wind. You could hear the crack of heavy branches breaking and the rustling of more pliable ones with their leaves and branches rubbing together. Then, a person would get the sensation that they were being lifted a little from the gravity that kept them in place.

She took a shower then sat on the bed. Just as she did so the phone rang with an incoming call from her daughter, Nicola. Nica for short. She was at school in Connecticut and called because one of her friends emailed her about the coming storm. She would soon be home for the Christmas break and Trinity was dying to see her.

Don’t worry. Trinity told her. Uncle Howard is here and we will be OK.

After she hung up from Nica, she returned a call to her best friend, Tasha. The call went straight to voicemail so she left a message that everything was okay. She was a little bummed out when the electricity eventually went off late in the night and she had difficulty falling asleep without the back ground noise of the television. When she finally did, it was as she usually did, on top of the covers. Even though she changed the sheets weekly, she still could not lay between them. She just couldn’t. Not without Robert, there.

When she awoke the following morning she took a shower and dressed. She called out to Uncle Howard and Cali, but got no response.

They must still be sleeping. she thought.

She cooked breakfast and called out to them again, but still she received no response, so, she left the pancakes, scrambled eggs, and yellow grits on top of the stove and put the tuna salad in an ice chest on the counter. She went back to her bedroom, with her flash light carrying a cup of coffee, percolated the old fashioned way on the gas stove.

About an hour later, she went back to the kitchen. The first part of Floyd passed over during the night and it had become eerily calm. It was just the eye of the hurricane passing over. Compared to the jet force winds before, this would give anyone a false sense of calm. She looked out through a window that was not covered and saw just the slightest breeze vibrating the few leaves left on some of the trees. Other trees lay fallen with their roots exposed. Broken branches, debris, litter, downed utility lines and featherless dead birds were all over. As expected, there was no damage to the house because all exterior and interior walls were built of concrete.

She called to them again, Uncle Howard, Cali, come get some breakfast.

There was still no answer so she went down the stairs to get them. She saw the clothes she had given to them folded neatly on the cots along with the towels and sheets. The wine bottles were empty. She did not see the bottle of Bacardi Anejo. The dog was gone as well.

She felt that she had made a mistake in bringing them there. Maybe, she hurt their feelings. God knows, she did not intend that. She decided that maybe she should not concern herself with them anymore as clearly they did not want to spend their safety there. Uncle Howard knew better than to go out then, though, she thought. He knew that the wind was going to come back, more fiercely. As soon as the utilities were back up she would call Uncle Fred to tell him that Uncle Howard and Cali left in the middle of the hurricane.

To her, something wasn’t right about Cali. Trinity’s spirit did not take to her. Uncle Howard had a bad habit of getting involved with some shady women, but she wondered what choice he would have in finding a good partner in consideration of the lifestyle that he lived.

One woman abused him, diabolically. ‘Mean Mabel’ Edgecombe was a very big, hard heeled, bass voiced, line backer, hard red woman. She let him sleep in the kitchen by the porch door in exchange for bedroom gratuities. But, if he did something that she didn’t approve of or if he couldn’t get her any money or bring his disability payment to her or if he didn’t clean her house to her liking, she would send him out in the yard to bring back five long thorny branches of the Bougainvillea plant that bears heart-shaped leaves. Then, she would whip him with them.

He suffered badly with her. Someone told Trinity what Mabel did, so with a Police Officer, she went to get him. She took Uncle Howard to a hospital and he was admitted. Trinity tried to get him to bring charges on Mabel, but he refused. It was going on his seventh day of admission when he walked out.

She went back to the window, craning her neck to get a panoramic view. Then, just out of the corner of her eye, she saw an orange rag on the ground. About twelve inches of it was fluttering in the wind. It looked familiar, then it registered that it was the one worn by Cali when she saw her the night before. And, something that looked like a blown up inner tyre was partially on top of it. Some crabs where picking at it with their pincer claws, transferring pieces of something to their mouths.

She make an audible gasp when she realized that it was a body. It was Cali’s body. She looked away from the window then walked, calmly, outside. Cali was crushed by a toppled Sapodilla tree. A two foot diameter branch lay across her chest. There was a broken stump still left on the branch, but the corresponding broken part was jutting out of the left side of her neck. The tree ripped her open. Trinity could see that she was almost decapitated. Her head was doubled over on top of her chest so she could see that her eyes were open, too. Blood congealed under her. Trinity felt weighted to the ground.

Uncle Howard? Uncle Howard? she screamed at the top of her voice. Where are you Uncle Howard? Where are you?

She ran back inside, found a large duvet, raced back to Cali’s body and covered her, using rocks to hold the material down.

Where is Uncle Howard? she asked herself, getting more agitated, as she looked around as quickly as she could.

She had to get back inside the house. The air was becoming violent again from the opposite direction and she could feel the wind pushing her. Rain was hitting her like frozen bullets. She rounded the hill that led to her driveway, powered up to the backdoor and went in.

Oh God, What happened? Where is Uncle Howard? she asked over and over.

She ran out one more time, but stayed at the top of the driveway. It was from there that she saw him, tangled up in the overhead electrical transformer and lines that crashed down during the night. He had been electrocuted; his flesh blistered, roasted and charred black. The Bacardi bottle lay broken by his side.

There was no sign of the puppy, but she could not stay out to look for it. She went back inside, sat down and cried. She thought that they would be alive if she had not insisted that they come back to her house. She waited out the rest of the Hurricane wrapped up in Robert’s robe on a chair in her bedroom just thinking about what was outside her house.

What made them want to leave? she kept asking herself with no reply coming.

Then it was over. Gingerly, she went outside. The duvet was blown off of Cali and both she and Uncle Howard were being feasted on. One animal lapped up Cali’s blood. Another was pulling Uncle Howard’s ribs apart with his teeth and paws just like he was sitting at a table eating barbeque. He bared his teeth and growled at another that tried to take his dinner away. A savage fight broke out among them. They all, at some point, turned and snarled at her, but,

thankfully, did not pursue her. Doing so would have left their meat unguarded. Cautiously, she retreated to the top of her driveway and saw the carcasses of two ducks with little more than their backbones left. There were no signs of the chickens. All were gone.

She called out to her neighbours Caleb and Sheba. When they came over, Caleb vomited and Sheba made the sign of the cross as she looked away. Mitch came out with his hand gun in the waist of his pants. After he put down red cones around the transformer to keep others from getting electrocuted, he came over to Caleb and Trinity. Some of the young boys from down the street came with super soaker water guns and whips. Their parents took the toys from them and made them go into Caleb and Sheba’s house to wait for them. Nobody knew where other dogs might be lurking.

Trinity unrolled her hose and gave the nozzle to Caleb. He and two other men, with the super soakers, fired water at the dogs to stop them feeding on the bodies. That did not work. One parent cracked the air with a whip, bringing down its stinging tip just near the ravenous dogs, to frighten them away. Nothing worked. They ravenously bit off and swallowed chunks of meat from the bodies, oblivious to every thing else.

Mitch said, I am sorry, but something has to be done.

With the approval of the others, he took his gun from his waistband, aimed it at the dogs and started shooting. When he was finished, three dogs lay dead. Three ran away.

Finally, one neighbour who had a satellite phone was able to get through to emergency services from a U.S. number. When they came, they were there until after dark with their spinning blue and red lights. The high powered blinding beams had the whole street lit up. Callous rubberneckers taking pictures with their phones and pads and reporters trying to stick a microphone in her face angered her.

The Humane Society officers who came with catch poles, traps and cages were conferring with the Police Officers on the side of the road.

She heard the Police Officer telling the animal catchers, There are still more of them lurking around. Who knows how many? They are aggressive and not afraid of people. They are out of control. They have to be captured and put down, before they attack anyone else.

A screen was placed around the bodies where they were readied to be placed into the body bags. Because of the high moisture content in the air, Cali’s body decomposed quickly and her body was, by then, bloated and misshapen. Bite and feed marks were all over her, seeping fluids. Slippage of the skin had already developed. When the morgue attendant, who was holding her ankles to put her body into the cadaver bag, said, Oh Shit., everyone turned to face him.

Cali’s legs slipped right out of his hands, thudding back to the ground, but the skin remained in his gloved hands. This appeared to have caught him by surprise because he stood there, unmoving as he looked at them. So, Cali was left with a ring of white flesh around each ankle.

Uncle Howard’s body was charred and blistered, like a very badly burnt rack of lamb with pieces of bones sticking out. They were having a difficult time getting his body into the cadaver bag, as well, because as they lifted him, pieces of his extremities broke off. Trinity looked away. That was the last straw. The indignity of what was happening to them shook her.

Sheba led her back to the house, to the kitchen table. She put a kettle of water on the stove to boil then they both sat quietly, too shocked to speak. The shrill of the kettle’s whistle startled both of them. Sheba got up, poured the water in the teapot and placed it on the table.

They would still be alive if I hadn’t insisted that Uncle Howard come here. He didn’t want to and I forced him. I meddled in their lives and this is what happened. she told Sheba.

No Trinity, you can’t believe that. It just happened. It wasn’t your fault. Sheba, answered her.

Trinity wondered how she was she going to tell Uncle Fred and Nica about this tragedy. After she hung up with Uncle Fred, she called Nica. Since she knew that she would hear and see the news anyway, she felt it was best coming from her. Nica felt terrible for her. She tried to convince her that it was not her fault. Nica was about to sit end of term exams. Nica wanted to come home, but Trinity told her to wait and finish her exams. There would be time enough. She was sorry to say, but she did not want her distracted.

When she did