Survivors

Survivors

By


storyteller

Completely naked, Agnes and Homer Wexlar walked quickly from the small tree-sheltered in let to the ocean's edge where they knelt in the surf and cleansed themselves. The tide was coming in rapidly to change the face of the beach. Soon the sea would wash everything clean.

Homer glanced at the big houses a hundred feet away. Nobody moved outside, so he assumed that nobody had seen them. He grinned at Agnes. They had become by necessity accomplished survivors after the loss of Homer's pension in the fraudulent investment scheme five years ago. They managed by doing what they had to do then moving on. Hunger was the hardest need to satisfy, but they would eat well for several days.

Hurrying back to the shelter of the trees, they dressed, giggling like teen-agers again. Homer reached out and took one handle of the large cooler. Agnes took the other and they walked briskly along the now-deserted beach, hiding their tracks in the rising water.

After about a mile, they reached their beach towel and umbrella. Homer paused to admire a setting sun that looked like a golden apple perched on the far rim of the world. "Wonderful Sunset," he said.

"Yes, truly marvelous." Agnes laughed and picked up the towel. “We’ve managed, haven't we?"

"You thought that we wouldn't last more than a year or two." He began folding the umbrella. It just took a willingness to start thinking in new ways. Can't allow old habits interfere with survival. If we hadn't changed with the situation, we'd be ... dead by now. Probably by suicide."

They were filling their car's small trunk when a policeman riding a three-wheeled off-road cycle drove up.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a small boy around this area?"

"Why certainly, Officer," Agnes said. She hated those noisy cycles worse than nosy policeman. "Until just a little while ago several children were here with their parents."

"No Madam, I meant wandering alone. He is about three or four. His parents live in those summer homes about a mile north of here. He apparently wandered off."

"You mean they don't pay someone to keep an eye on the little lad?" Agnes said. "I should think that with the money those people have to spend on those lavish houses they could at least afford to hire someone to watch their children. My goodness, the baby could have wandered out into the ocean and drowned!"

"Or been eaten by a shark," Homer added.

"Well, we don't want to say that at this moment," the officer cautioned. He was young and strong and blond, the perfect stereotype for patrolling the beach. "We have no evidence of that. We're assuming he is just lost for now. Little children seem to slip away so quickly sometimes."

"I never had any children, but I suppose you're right," Agnes said, then gave him her best smile. "You look almost exactly like my favorite nephew, Bruce. Don't you think so, Homer?"

"Absolutely." Homer carefully set the cooler into the trunk and closed the tailgate.

"He's quite handsome, too. Except that he has brown hair."

"Well, thank you." The officer smiled back, squinting as he scanned the beach in the quickly gathering twilight. "Unfortunately, you might be right; he could have wandered into the ocean and ... been attacked. The ocean is full of predatory creatures."

"The world is full of predators, son," Homer told him.

The officer nodded and drove noisily north.

"We're not predators, are we, Homer?"

"No. We are survivors, my dear."

END

600 words



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