"This is the life!" Elizabeth Talbot exclaimed as she raised her Mai Tai glass. “Jamaica, Mon!”
On either side of her, two bikini-clad women perched on barstools. Middle-aged, they retained a youthful appearance. Glanced at from afar, they fooled many a roaming eye. Smiling happily, they tapped their glasses in agreement.
“No worries, Mon," Gayle Murray responded with a giggle. She had accompanied Liz on many previous jaunts. Adventurous by nature, she followed her friend into mischief.
Allyson Michaels buried her laughter by pressing her napkin over her mouth and nose. When she began to snort, she felt her nostrils fill. Fearfully, she imagined snot blowing across the bamboo-decorated pool bar. Dutifully, her mother taught her never to spread her germs in public places. Her instinct set in. Containing her the mucus, she glanced timidly at her friends. Already three sheets to the wind, neither noticed her swift movements.
“Where did Karsyn get off to?” Liz asked, referring to Karsyn Crane.
The fourth and youngest member of their little party had not appeared.
"Beats me," Allyson responded, rolling her shoulders in a shrug. Swaying on the barstool, she raised her glass in the bartender's direction.
Understanding her request, the bartender nodded. Swiftly, he prepared three fresh rounds.
Allyson could not resist the opportunity to wink. Flirting with the widely smiling Jamaican came naturally.
Muttering a tune to himself, Davy cheerfully replenished their drinks. He had a proposition for Allyson if he caught the little sweetie on her own. Nevertheless, he hardly cared which one he singled out—he would proposition any of them. In the past, many young women crossed his path. He invited several to his lodgings. They were putty in his hands when he tipped something special into their drinks. As long as he succeeded, he continued to do it. No one complained, at least not yet.
"Karsyn said she had a headache this morning. She intended to stay in bed for a while. When she feels better, she’ll meet us later this afternoon," Allyson informed the group.
Allyson shared a hotel bungalow with Karsyn Crane. Next door, Liz and Gayle occupied a similar one.
"When we woke up, she looked like death warmed over,” Allyson continued. Casually, she sipped her cocktail. “We were all pretty drunk last night. When we rolled in from that last disco, Karsyn complained. She said she felt woozy."
“We’re still pretty drunk,” Liz exclaimed. Lifting her third Mai Tai to her lips, she gulped it down. Slamming the empty glass on the bar, she ordered another one.
“I sh…sh…sheckoned that,” Allyson slurred, swaying in her seat. Her companion had a habit of suddenly falling off her barstool. Gayle caught her arm.
“Think I should check up on her?” Gayle wondered. Immediately she became conscientious about her friend.
“Nah, Karsyn’s all right,” Liz responded with a lackadaisical shrug. “She’ll find us when she’s ready.” Raising her glass toward the bartender, she indicated yet another round.
“Shuttin’ down, ladies,” Davy Robinson exclaimed, rushing toward the intoxicated women. A big white grin lightened up his dark face. Swiftly, he reached up to roll down the bar’s security screen.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Liz imperiously demanded. At the abruptness of the bar closure, she instantly sobered up. “No one, and I mean no one, closes down this early in the afternoon. Not in Jamaica, not anywhere.”
“Orders, Mon…I mean mum.” Davy answered, still flashing his grin. “Orders,” he jovially repeated.
"Whose orders?" Liz asked, her voice arrogantly rising. "My husband is Lt. Col. Oliver Talbot, US Army; I'll have you know. You can't shut down on us. We're all Army wives here. We know a thing or two…"
Davy swiftly shut her down.
"It's the plague, lady. Plague. Do you get it?" the bartender remarked with a severe tone. “We're under mandatory orders to shut down. Immediately. All guests will be ordered to their bungalows and told to stay there. Best be shuffling off in that direction, mum."
"Plague? You must be kidding," Elizabeth Talbot scoffed.
Beside her, Gayle and Allyson nodded in agreement. Deferring to Liz as their leader, they hovered uncertainly. Authoritatively, their friend took up the argument for them.
"You have rocks in your head. There's no plague,” Liz coolly stated. “Years ago, the medical field declared the plague eradicated, or perhaps, centuries ago. There's no plague in the 2000s."
"Google it if you don't believe me," Davy responded. Rolling his eyes, he disdainfully muttered about stupid tourists. Swiftly containing himself inside the bar, he brought down the security curtain.
"Hey, yeah, it's real," Allyson exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. Turning her smartphone so Liz and Gayle, she forced them to view the screen. "A plague outbreak appeared in San Fran a few weeks ago. It's spreading like wildfire across the States and in Europe. Bellevue Hospital, Kingston, Jamaica, confirmed six cases and two more possibilities are waiting for confirmation in Baywest Wellness in Montego Bay.”
“Montego Bay?” Gayle questioned. “That’s us, right?”
“Of course, it was right,” Liz impatiently screamed at her friend. She considered Gayle stupid and naïve. Allyson, too, for that matter.
Although she disparaged her companions, Liz Talbot kept them around. She enjoyed feeling superior. Resembling little ducklings, they blithely followed her lead. She considered Karsyn her newest duckling. Karsyn, the youngest of the group, recently came within her sphere. Willingly she shadowed Liz’s every movement.
Liz—the perfect leader—judged herself the smartest and shrewdest of the foursome. Using her father’s position as a General over them, she forced their obedience. If they did not jump to her command, her temper flared forth. They quelled and kowtowed to her demands.
“What are we going to do?” Gayle asked in trepidation. Her anxiety began to show.
"Go back to our bungalows, then get outta here," Elizabeth Talbot announced, grasping her smartphone. Fingers flying, she dashed off a text message to her husband, Oliver. "IN MONTEGO BAY. GET US OUTTA HERE!"
Sliding from her barstool, Liz determinedly marched toward her cabin. To her left, the pool stood empty beneath the blazing Jamaican sun. Hastily, bathers gathered their belongings. The irritated military wife rudely cut between a mother and her toddler son, breaking their linked hands. Ignoring the mom’s angry remarks, she strode onward.
Liz’s shoulder-length frosted hair jounced across her back. The strap of her neon pink string bikini slipped down her arm. Impatiently, she swiped at it. The matching bottoms stretched out of proportion and clung to her buttocks. Liz continued to believe herself to be a perfect size four, although an eight made a better reality. Oblivious about her appearance, she strode onward, feeling she looked imperious.
Soberly her two companions followed her. Although hers fit less snugly, Gayle wore a similar bathing costume. A red, white, and blue striped poncho covered Allyson's navy one-piece suit. Swinging at her side, she carried a straw catch-all bag.
Both women lacked their friend's confidence. Inwardly, they worried about the plague. Their situation seemed dire.
Allyson called a hasty goodbye at her bungalow. Liz and Gayle continued to the one next door.
“So what next?” Gayle asked, entering their shared space. With the plague spreading quickly, she hated the idea of remaining trapped on the Caribbean island. “What if we can’t leave?”
"We wait," Liz nonchalantly exclaimed. She dragged her suitcase onto the double bed and flung her clothes into it. "It's up to Ollie to get us off this stinking island."
It always remained up to Ollie to get her out of every mess she created.
"I sent him a text telling him to get us outta here,” Elizabeth Talbot blithely continued. Her confidence surged. “He'll order an EVAC for us, you'll see."
“What if he can’t?” Gayle moaned, falling further into her anxious state of mind.
"He has to." Liz shrugged dispassionately. "Hey, don't worry about it, Gayle." Suddenly, she noticed the worried look etched across her friend's face. "I love you."
Liz and Gayle had been secret lovers for years. Folding her companion into a warm embrace, Liz kissed the top of her head. Her warm, soft lips traveled to the tip of Gayle’s nose. Finally, passionately, she captured her mouth and thrust her tongue inside.
A loud banging sounded at the door, interrupting the fervent couple. Angrily swinging it open, Liz scowled at Allyson.
"What do you want?" Elizabeth snapped, leaning impatiently in the doorway.
“You better look at Karsyn,” Allyson stated, her voice rising to a scream. Panic appeared in her usually calm blue eyes. “I think she’s got it.”
"Knock it off, Ally. Stop trying to scare us." Annoyed, Liz began to swing the door closed. Allyson thrust her hand out to stop her.
"Seriously, girls. She's got this thing—like right here." The frightened Army wife indicated a spot in her armpit. "It's repulsive."
Nervously, the three friends crowded over the bed in the small, neat bungalow. The damp, sweat-covered sheet clung to Karsyn's naked form. Her vacant eyes stared at the ceiling.
Twenty-five-year-old Karsyn Crane never traveled without her husband. Newly married, she clung to the young Lieutenant. Greyson meant the world to her; separation from him left her lost and alone. Her friends claimed she would become accustomed to his departures. Perhaps, in time, she would. However, her loneliness during deployments left her depressed.
Feigning concern, Elizabeth Talbot befriended Karsyn. Swiftly, the younger woman fell beneath her dominating presence. In short order, Karsyn joined Gayle and Allyson in Liz's shadow. She became part of "The Crew," as Liz called them.
When the Jamacia trip came up, Liz practically bullied Karsyn into participating. She had not wanted to go. While her husband deployed overseas, she believed she should remain at home. Her infant son required her attention. She promised Greyson she would care for the child.
Under pressure, Karsyn finally relented. She left baby Gerald with Gayle Murray’s sitter. Gayle’s three children—twin girls aged six and a boy around Gerry's age--adored their caregiver. Her mind constantly drifted to the child she left behind. She faked having a good time. In and out of consciousness, she muttered her son’s name. Then, her thoughts became too muddled inside her foggy head.
"What are we going to do?" Allyson whispered, wringing her hands. Along with her companions, she hovered over her sick friend’s bed.
“Nothing,” Liz coolly responded, shaking out her shoulder-length hair. Abruptly, she headed for the door. “She’ll get over it.”
"What if she doesn't?" Allyson whined, feeling the tears begin to well in her eyes. In a flood, they flowed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. "It's the plague. I don't think people get over it."
"How would I know?" Liz snapped, grasping the doorknob. "Are you coming, Gayle?"
“You’re not going to leave me here?” Allyson practically shrieked, rushing to stop her friend.
“Why not?” Liz coldly stated. “You’re already exposed.”
“Well, so are you and Gayle,” Allyson countered, grabbing her friend’s hand. “She’s probably been walking around with it for days.”
“Ollie will get us out.” Liz swung the door opened and stepped outside. “I told him to.”
As soon as Liz and Gayle disappeared, Allyson sank onto the bed's edge. Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed for her sick friend. ‘How was this going to end?’ she questioned to the still room.
They traveled to Jamaica for a bit of fun. Their husbands’ absence permitted a little VaCay of their own when the men went away. According to Elizabeth Talbot, they deserved to have a good time.
“Life is here for the taking,” Liz frequently exclaimed.
Allyson and Gayle happily obliged. Karsyn voiced her misgivings but joined in nevertheless. For once in her life, they might have listened to the voice of reason. A multitude of past incidents flashed through Allyson’s mind, warning her. The plague caught them off guard. How was this thing going to end? Biting her lip, she stared at her sick friend.
Straightening her back, Allyson picked up the phone and called for emergency assistance. Her friend lay desperately ill; someone had to help her. If Karsyn entered the hospital, she had a chance of survival. It was not a wait-and-see situation. Within moments, a siren wailed in the distance. Allyson flung open the door and allowed the two Jamaican EMTs inside.
“What have you done?” Liz screamed, barging inside. “I told you Ollie was going to evacuate us. I told you to wait.”
“Karsyn couldn’t wait,” Allyson countered, taking control. “She’s sick, Liz.”
“So you send her to a civilian hospital? Great.”
"Shut up, Liz," Allyson responded, sudden command entering her voice. Honestly sick and tired of her friend's commandeering attitude, she stepped up to the plate.
The friendship skidded to an abrupt halt. Allyson would never again fall under Elizabeth’s thrall. Her participation in Liz’s extraordinary schemes ended. Her eyes hotly flared as she made her stance.
Elizabeth grabbed ahold of Allyson's brown bob and pulled her companion to the ground. Allyson poked her fingers into Liz's steely blue orbs. Both women rolled on the floor beside Karsyn's sickbed. However, before the fight commenced any further, the authorities arrived. Roughly pulling the aggressive women apart, Police Officer Lamont Bolt roughly pulled them apart. Dragging Gayle Murray from the next-door room, he informed the three women to remain in quarantine. Then, warning them to linger, he forced them into the other bungalow.
"Your friend is dead," the uniformed Jamaican informed them. Firmly he closed the door upon the three women and posted a guard.
At the abrupt announcement of their companion’s demise, Allyson Murray and Gayle Michaels burst out in tears. As they mournfully wailed, Elizabeth Talbot glared at them disdainfully. Steely-hearted, she felt a glimmer of emotion barely. Her friends' show of weakness revolted her.
Liz drew out her smartphone. Using all the expletives in her vocabulary, she demanded Lt. Col. Oliver Talbot respond to her immediately.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
