The slow waves of the sapphire sea lap between his toes and recede back across the white sands. The lazy sun fries the island in a wobbling miasma of heat, and so he takes shelter under the massive fronds that poke out from the edge of the jungle, listening to the wash of the waves, the buzz and click of insects, and the chirrups of paradise birds.
His line runs into the shallows. The water is clear enough that he can see the myriad species of fish, crabs, jellies, starfish, and rays that live in the rainbow metropolis of the reef. The fish glisten as the light catches their iridescent scales and their bodies shimmer through the lens of the jiggling waters, which cast a net of light over the submerged sands and corals.
He closes his eyes and reclines on the worn wooden deck chair, trusting that he’ll hear the whirr of his line, should anything take. He breathes in the salt of the sea and the wet tang of the jungle. Two beers in, and with the warmth of the sun and the serenity of the senses, he might find himself asleep soon enough.
A distant humming cuts through the natural sounds. The man slowly opens his eyes into a scowl. He knows the sound well enough and it isn’t a welcome one. The hum becomes a buzz, which becomes a roar as a black motorboat approaches the island from the horizon.
The man takes the rifle from where it rests against a palm tree. ‘Fer fuck’s sake,’ he mumbles as the figures on the black boat materialise through the mirage dancing above the perfect sea.
Paddy Dobson
24th July 2022