Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [80]
Whatever.
Eventually I bounced repeatedly to a stop, somewhere—oh—ten or so feet above the beach, and only a few yards from certain death on a fallen tree stake. I lay for a long moment, staring up at the sun, and trees, and sky…and just hurt.
Eventually, my eyes closed, unconsciousness licking at the corners of my brain like a lonely Labrador until I heard the voices and movements of people all around me, some up near the top of the hill and a few closer by, down toward the beach.
The voices on the beach were approaching, and eventually came very close to me. Each was tinged with gentle sympathy.
The ones above were like nails on a chalkboard, and were hard to distinguish from the screeching bird still struggling in my hair. Inwardly, I hoped for the sources of the lower voices to reach me first, and I was surprised when they actually did. The god who spends his days ruining my life (bastard) must have been too busy laughing his ass off over my fall to intervene negatively, at that particular moment.
Tender hands gently freed the bird, then lifted my head from the anthill I had landed on and brushed away a few of the stinging insects as they were making a concerted effort to pull me into their hole. I suppose they would get some considerable street cred around the colony if they succeeded in feeding me to their queen. In my delirium I somehow missed them when they were gone.
“Mister Wopplesdown?” a voice asked. A lovely, mellifluous voice. “Mister Wopplesdown, are you okay?”
Slowly, I opened my eyes. The exceedingly naked Ms. Nuckeby and her handsome sunhat held me in their arms. I was in heaven. A heaven with stinging ants, but never mind.
“Ms. Nuckeby,” I wheezed, managing a smile. “How lovely to see you again.”
“Are you all right, Mister Wopplesdown? My God, the way you flew down that hill—like someone had thrown you. Are you hurt?”
“No. No. I feel quite wonderful actually.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve never had sex.”
There was some laughter behind her, and I noticed naked body parts of various other individuals just beyond hers. Was everyone naked? What had I interrupted?
“I’m not worried about that,” Ms. Nuckeby said. “I’m just concerned that you’re okay.”
“You have no idea how perfectly okay I am.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“Me?” Her expression melted, and she sounded deeply and genuinely pleased. My heart jumped.
“CORKY?”
It was Mindie’s voice, digging into the chalkboard of my brain and scraping its way down the hill. My heart stopped jumping with pleasure and fell over, curling itself into a fetal position.
“CAN ANYONE SEE HIM THROUGH THE TREES? OH, MY GOD, CORKY, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?”
Other voices joined her, calling my name in faulty harmony as they raced down the stairs towards us. Ms. Nuckeby looked up, trying to see through the foliage herself.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“Um—why, that’s Mindie,” I said, my voice rising, trying to make her sound fun, and exciting, and welcome—as if she were bringing gifts, food, and champagne for the needy.
Ms. Nuckeby’s expression darkened. “The one from last night. The girl with the giant bazoombas who made you stiffen up.”
“And not in a good way. Yes. That would be her.”
“Why is she here?” There was a tension in Ms, Nuckeby’s voice I’d never heard before. It startled me, and I wanted it to go away and let the nice voice come back to play.
“Well,” I said, smiling, “this is going to make you laugh, but…”
“Does she know you’re here to see me?”
An ant stung my eyeball. Twitching, I replied, “Em…no.” “Why does she think she’s here?”
I laughed. It didn’t even sound like a genuine laugh to me. “Well…see…that’s an amazing story. She…of all things…thinks she’s here to…em…”
She waited.
She stopped waiting.
“Yes?”
I swallowed. “Get…um…married.”
“Married,” she said flatly. She wasn’t seeing the amazing