Island of Fog and Death: A sci-fi horror adventure by David Wallace

Author:David Wallace [Wallace, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 2018-07-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Anifail Island, North Wales, May 28th last year.

At about half past eight in the evening, having (in Tori's mind) wasted hours messing about taking pictures in the Mithraeum, Maxwell decreed that the party should eat and get a good night's sleep before getting 'seriously stuck in' - his exact words - in the morning.

He had looked expectantly at Gilda when he mentioned eating, prompting her to roll her eyes and 'volunteer' to do pasta and polpette, deliberately using the Italian word in in the hope that Tori would have to ask what it meant. She was disappointed.

When he mentioned 'sleep' his gaze had flicked over to Tori who responded to him with a wicked smile, a salacious mental nudge, and finger circling one of her nipples. Gilda did not miss the first and third, and rolled her eyes again. Tori did not miss the eye-roll, and smirked.

Owain just seemed oblivious to the cross-currents, and volunteered to sort out the lighting for the morning while dinner was cooking.

Maxwell and the two women left Owain running cables from the generator down to the Mithraeum to set up some additional work-lights, and headed back out to the campers. Gilda paused to ask Tori if she fancied giving her a hand. Tori just smiled at her, and said she had faith in Gilda's ability to boil a meatball. She strolled off to the VW without a backward glance, but her keen hearing picked up Gilda's muttered curses, which was quite satisfying.

Tori had intended to make a start on getting Maxwell thoroughly worked up, but he surprised and annoyed her by walking off towards the main road, intending to find what he described as 'the elusive proprietor of this here farm'. She lingered in the VW just long enough - she hoped - to save a bit of face, then made for the Aero. "Hey Gilda," she said with false cheerfulness. "I thought I'd set the table, doll."

"Done," replied Gilda with a smirk.

"Right, well done, doll," said Tori. "How's the sauce coming along? Anything I can help with?"

"I think I can boil a meatball on my own. What's up? Maxwell not in the mood for a quickie, then?"

"He went to talk to the farmer."

"And you got bored within, what? A minute of your own company?"

"More like two minutes, doll. To be honest, I sat down and pictured myself as Gilda. I asked myself, what would Gilda do? But that was so, soooooo, sad and depressing, and rather than top myself out of misery, I came over here."

Gilda stood glaring at Tori, who could see she was trying to calm herself down. Finally, Gilda snapped, "You don't like me much, do you?"

"And you're not exactly my biggest fan, are you, doll?"

"You're taking advantage of Maxwell..."

Tori laughed. "And you wish it was you, right?"

Gilda opened her mouth to answer, but stopped abruptly as the door opened.

Owain came in. "Hmm, something smells good," he said. "Did I hear you say 'polpette'? Is that tiny octopuses? Or should I call them 'octopi'?"

Gilda laughed, but it was Tori who answered him.

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