Free Virgo's Vice by Trish Jackson Page B

it’s gonna jump right out of my chest.
    “I put my hand on a spider,” Jared says. “It was like this big.” He holds his hands out.
    “Did it bite you?” says Maria. “We don’t have any spider bite anti-venom.”
    “No,” he says with a trembling voice. “It was close though.”
    “That reminds me, the pilot said something else,” Mark says. “There’s some kind of superstition about this place, some kind of monster who comes out at night and kills people.” He shrugs. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.” He’s staring at me when he says it.
    “What kind of monster?” Kelli says, hugging herself.
    “I don’t know any more than that,” Mark says. “There wasn’t time to discuss it further.”
    “What exactly did he say?” Stretch asks.
    “He said he hopes I’m not superstitious because, although AIDS and other diseases have caused a lot of deaths here, all the surviving locals have moved away from this area because they believe there’s a monster that comes into their villages at night and kills people and eats them.”
    I gasp. “That’s scary.”
    “Yeah, I heard him say that, too. It’s only scary if you believe in that kind of thing,” Billy says and grins at me.
    I don’t know why he’s so happy about it. It doesn’t seem to bother him at all. All this talk about giant spiders and monsters sure is scaring me. I decide right then that I won’t be sleeping tonight. I would rather sit by the fire.
    “I don’t know about the monster specific to this region,” Trip says. He’s holding his pipe in one hand. “There’s a monster in some of the local people’s folklore called the Tokkoloshe. It’s supposed to be a dwarf so they put their beds up on blocks and that keeps them safe. I guess it’s something like a troll.”
    I shiver and hug myself. I’m glad the bed platform is up fairly high. It’s totally dark now, but the fire gives off enough light for us to see by. The chopsticks kind of work, but I still manage to spill some of my rice on the ground.
    “At least we don’t have to do the dishes,” Sam says. “Just lick them clean.” Nobody laughs.
    “What about latrines?” Rafael Rodriguez says. “We have two shovels, but we need to designate an area or two areas.”
    “How about that way for the men and over there for the girls,” the NBA player says, standing up and stretching. It reminds me he told us to call him ‘Stretch.’
    Someone takes the flashlight and heads into the darkness.
    I carry my mug over to the water bags. “Can we dole out more water now?” I say. “I’m really thirsty.”
    “Bring your mugs.” Faith heads over to the water bag tree. She lifts one of the bags off its hook, a protruding stump of a branch on the side of a tree trunk. “We’ll still have to ration it to half a cup each,” she says. “Hopefully by tomorrow night we’ll have a lot more.”
    I allow the other girls to go first. My mouth actually waters when I watch it pouring into my mug. I know I have to sip it slowly to make it last. I’m surprised at how cool it is.
    “We should boil more water now. And anyway, how are we supposed to wash the rice pot and our bowls?” Lela says.
    “Give the pot here,” Rodriguez limps to the fire, takes it from her and picks up some cold ash from the side of the fire. He pours it into the cup, scoops up some sand, and rubs it all around the bottom then holds it toward the fire to see if it’s worked.
    “Someone will have to rinse it down there,” he points in the direction of the waterhole. “I would go, but my ankle . . .”
    “I’ll do it.” Mark taps Jared on the arm.
    “Oh yeah, sure, dude. I’ll help you. As long as there are no spiders.”
    Billy hauls himself up off the log. “I guess I’ll have to show you where it is,” he says. “We can probably take everyone’s bowls and wash them while we’re there. Bring one of the shovels.”
    I watch the beam of the flashlight bounce off the grass as they walk