Free Ode to a Fish Sandwich by Rebecca M. Hale

reality, she stepped in for the kill.
    But before she could commit to her swing, the fisherman broke out of his trance.
    “Come on, Dr. Jones,” Burt said, suddenly pulling the startled dermatologist into a standing position. With a sharp tug, he yanked the doctor to the side, in the process stepping into the direct path of Winnie’s blade.
    She clenched her fist, holding back her blow, hesitating to plunge the knife into Burt’s muscular torso—for a moment too long.
    “It’s getting late,” the fisherman said, dragging the doctor across the clearing toward the path on the opposite side. “Time to get you home.”
    Before Winnie could regroup, both men were well out of knife range.
    As they disappeared down the trail, her bloodcurdling scream echoed across the slopes of the volcano.
    “What was that?” the doctor asked, cringing at the sound.
    The crazed expression returned to Burt’s face as he cryptically replied.
    “A gift from Delilah.”
    ~
    TWO HOURS LATER, Burt dropped Dr. Jones off at the resort’s front gates.
    The bemused guards waved him through with a pair of matching shrugs. At this point, nothing White Wally did would surprise them.
    The doctor followed the line of Tiki lights down the front drive to the reception area. Past the front desk, he veered off toward one of the cafe counters for a late snack. Despite the array of options, he couldn’t help thinking there was nothing on the menu that could come anywhere close to the taste of Winnie’s fish sandwiches.
    His stomach full if not completely satisfied, he returned to his room. After all the hiking up and down the mountain—not to mention the ride in Burt’s odorous pickup—he was ready for a hot shower and a clean set of clothes.
    As his pants hit the ceramic tile floor, he heard a slight clink .
    Curious, he felt through his pockets until he found a rusted metal object.
    He pulled it out and held it up to the light, illuminating a silver trinket, forged in the shape of a boat’s steering wheel.
    Brow furrowed, he replayed the events of the evening, trying to identify when the trinket might have fallen into his pocket.
    He could only guess that Burt had dropped it in when he ushered him away from the shrine.
    With a cringe, he set the little wheel on the bathroom counter and took a wide step away from it.
    For some inexplicable reason, the thing gave him the creeps.
    “Another present from Delilah,” he said with a shudder.

Chapter 18
The Ode
    “MORNING, WINNIE,” THE doctor sang out the next day after his walk into town.
    He drummed his fingers against his waist. He’d worked up an appetite, and his stomach had already begun rumbling with anticipation for the day’s lunch special.
    Winnie glanced up from her workstation and shot him a surly look. She balled up a paper towel she’d been using to clean her cutting board and tossed it into the trash can. Wiping her hands on her apron, she reached into a basket of produce and pulled out a bundle of carrots.
    “I had the strangest evening last night, Winnie,” the doctor said, propping his umbrella against the outer wall as he leaned over the counter.
    Forcefully snapping off the carrot’s green tops, the chef spat her terse reply. “You don’t say.”
    She turned to rinse the carrots in the sink as the doctor continued.
    “Riding home on the bus, I saw Burt’s truck parked by the side of the road.” He paused, waiting for Winnie to register some sort of response, but her expression remained stoic as she shook the water from the carrots and pivoted back toward her counter.
    “I was concerned, so I asked the driver to let me out,” he chattered on, undeterred by the chef’s dismissive demeanor. “There by his truck, I found the trail that cuts through the cane field. I don’t know how I missed it all the times before. The entrance must have been covered up by the reeds.”
    With a grunt, Winnie selected a carrot and rolled it beneath her palm, flattening the curve against