Escape From Paradise Island Read online

  Escape From Paradise Island

  Michael Graeme

  Published: 2007

  Tag(s): Romance "short story" mystery speculative fantasy

  Escape From Paradise Island

  A Short Story

  Michael Graeme

  Crime doesn't pay. That's what they try to teach you in prison, and fair enough, I might even have left there one day determined to go straight except suddenly I was on an island in the China Sea, gazing at a beautiful girl in a yellow Bikini. So maybe it had been worth it after all. But careful now! You had to avoid thinking things like that because they'd a nasty habit of dissolving into reality and you'd wake up right back in that stinking grey cell: five years of your life already erased, with another two to go, and all because you'd never been able to resist the puzzle of a pretty motor car!

  I pinched myself. So far so good: I was still there, still on Paradise Island - at least that's what the others called it. I stretched and soaked up the sleepy heat. I'd been here a month already and was still unable to believe my luck. They call me Jamjar, by the way, after the old Cockney rhyming slang for car. It had been my badge of honor among criminals that a car hadn't been made that I couldn't take,… but then like my old dad used to say: there wasn't a criminal who wouldn't eventually be caught either.

  The girl had risen from the azure sea and was trotting over white sands towards me now. She was all light and lovely, like in a T.V. advert, but as she came closer I saw the sunken look around her eyes and the protruding bones of her skinny ribs - things you never saw in T.V. adverts, things that reminded you how fragile beauty was. Sure, it was easy for me: if I didn't make a success of things here, I'd just end up back in prison; if she failed, she'd be dead in a year.

  She called herself Summi. She was the daughter of a Tokyo businessman and came with a history of secure rehab stretching back to her teens. I guess at first her problem had just been the habit, but then it would have been the means to pay for it and the increasingly desperate methods. Sure, I'd seen it all before, seen many a bright and pretty girl ruined by junk and I knew there wasn't anything anyone could do about it, but still I feared for her.

  She caught me looking, then smiled and waved. She liked me, I thought, but I wasn't exactly the alpha male around here so I'd never made it obvious just how much I liked her in return. Then, right on cue, the alpha male came jogging up, bare chested, square jawed and handsome.

  They were a mixed bunch here, all nationalities, both men and women, all mingling freely. It took some getting used to, I'll tell you, and I wasn't sure it was a good idea because it caused a lot of behavior that I could only describe as tribal. All the pretty females were the property of the alpha male, you see? Until he'd checked them out, no other guy dared go near them. Of course, we weren't actually allowed to - you know - or at any rate if we were caught at it we'd be put on a plane and sent back to prison. But if it had been allowed, well, I was pretty sure who Summi would be doing it with, whether she wanted to or not, and it wasn't with me.

  The alpha male was called Jackson. He'd been a financier from Arkansas who'd fallen foul of greed and ego. Okay, so a financier doesn't sound like your average amoral alpha male, but he was a mean piece of work, and bigger than anyone else, both in muscle and self-belief. Me? I was afraid of taking my shirt off, partly on account of my skin which, after years of prison, was the colour of Tippex and likely to burn under a tropical sun, but mainly it was because I'd no physique, and I didn't want Summi to think I was a weed.

  So, I sat there under the shade of a palm-tree watching them. There was Jackson: laminated smile, powerful thighs and a chest you could land a 747 on. Summi was beckoning to me, bless her, and mouthing something like "come on", but I went all bashful and shook my head. Then Jackson cut in on purpose and eclipsed my view of her. It was okay: it worked both ways. Jackson thought I was his buddy, but I was only using him while we were there. When you weren't that big yourself, you always cosied up to someone else who was. I wasn't proud of it but, like anywhere else in the penal system, it was a question of survival. Letting Jackson have Summi was a small price to pay for being left alone by the other meatheads.

  A bell rang, low toned and sonorous, and the quiet air seemed to vibrate in sympathy. Recreation hour was over: it was time to return and the monks didn't like it if you were late: they kept you out of the courtyard during meditation and made you sweep instead. Now, I liked the meditation even though I couldn't make head nor tail of it - but I never complained - not like the others, see? It was just common sense that you had to keep on the right side of the monks, if only because they were the ones who appeared to be in charge. And make no mistake, though they looked placid enough floating about the place in their robes, I'd seen them doing their martial arts in the evenings and it wasn't the slow motion ballet like in the movies: there'd been sweat and bruises, and the occasionally bloody nose. Sounds a bit strange? Well, it wasn't like any other prison I've known: things were more open and the rules were vague, but you didn't mess with the monks - there were even rumors they could knock you over just by thinking about it.

  I hung back a moment, hoping the others might jog across and join me - well Summi at least - Jackson could go and hang for all I cared, but he wasn't for rushing, and Summi was such a gentle creature she was caught like a little bird in the palm of his hand while the big stupid ape fingered her plumage. I hoped they wouldn't be late. Things didn't make much sense here for sure, and Jackson was pretty blunt when it came to saying so, but it was obvious to me that if we could only pass our time without getting into trouble, there had to be a chance we'd be tasting freedom sooner, rather than later - otherwise what was the point?

  I waited a bit longer, but I was cutting it fine now. What Jackson got up to was his own business, but it wasn't right that he led Summi astray as well. This was her last chance to grow old and wise, as opposed to dying young and stupid. And the bit that really got to me was the fact that she wasn't really important to him - there were other women here, more his type, and they all seemed willing because Jackson was - well - Jackson.

  I gave up in the end and, disappointed, I returned alone, climbing the steps from the beach, past the hostel where our little dorms lay dotted by the terraced pathways. Then I climbed on up to the walled monastery that overlooked it all. There, Master Yi was waiting, a venerable old gentleman, sitting cross legged on a rush mat in the meditation courtyard. I thought I was late, but it was okay - the old man just liked to watch us coming in. He was reading something in our expressions I guessed and I bowed to him as I'd seen the monks do. I didn't know if it was correct, but at any rate it seemed polite. Master Yi responded with a faint nod and the same placid smile he always wore. Don't get me wrong - my motives were purely selfish: I wanted him to be thinking only good things about me, things that would ensure my time went well.

  After a little while the gates to the courtyard were closed and I felt my stomach tighten. Jackson and Summi were still missing. Damn! I took a deep breath, then let it go. At least it was cool in the courtyard, which was hung over with awnings for shade, and I reasoned it was better to be sitting down in there for the afternoon, instead of pushing a broom in the sun.

  Poor Summi!

  Altogether, there were around two hundred inmates on the island - no murderers or anyone like that, no really evil people - mainly just thieves and swindlers and dope addled opportunists. Some were like Jackson, still cocksure of themselves, and viewing their brief time in prison as a bit of bad luck. Then there were the emotional cripples who seemed to have lost track of the real world altogether. You could tell them by the way they held themselves, like they expected blows to be raining down all the time. And then
there were others like me, silent eyed, used to staring out into a long stretch of time.

  There weren't two hundred of us in the courtyard of course - more like fifty, and it was getting less every day. It had seemed strange at first but no one actually made you do anything, and you could just take yourself off round the other side of the island if you wanted,… the monks wouldn't stop you. But this place was the only shelter, the only bit of civilization in an otherwise uninhabited wilderness. You couldn't escape, and most had worked that out by now - the absentees always came back by mealtime.

  A couple of monks went up front and removed the curtain that had been obscuring a sculpture. It was made of a pale sandy stone, and depicted a guy sitting cross legged - at least I thought it was a guy. He didn't have bosoms or anything, but there was something feminine in the curve of the hips and in the shape of the face that made him look kind of half and half, you know? There was a piece of cloth around the loins so it was impossible to tell for sure. The eyes were gently closed and he was smiling.

  Jackson called the expression smug, but I didn't see it that way - it was more dreamy to me. Anyway, the idea was just to sit there, two hours in the morning and again in the afternoon. Master Yi had explained on our first day that we didn't have to look at the statue, but if we were puzzled about what it was we were supposed to be doing, we'd only to look at it and find the answer - where or how exactly, he didn't say. It was pretty boring of course, and most inmates couldn't manage more than ten minutes without fidgeting. If that happened a monk would come, tap them on the shoulder and usher them outside to sweep: Master Yi liked it quiet and calm for those who remained.

  Now, me? I was good at sitting: an hour or two was neither here nor there. And there was always the puzzle. Any car thief likes a puzzle. That was the lure of it: how to beat the security. The ride?… well, that was just the payoff. Having to hand the car over to the middle man was the least attractive part, and the money - well that was almost embarrassing, but hey: a guy has to make a living!

  My last job had been a high spec Lexus - just for the practice: took it from right outside the owner's flat in one of those classy gated communities. The security had been satisfyingly tricky, and the ride well worth the trouble. I'd left that beauty without a scratch, across town where the rozzers had been sure to find it - except, I'd misjudged the the security cameras - and of course my mug was well known. I'd expected a couple of years, but the judge had been a miserable old curmudgeon who'd described me as a plague upon society, then given me a seven stretch. I'd been horrified, not just by the severity of it, but by the fact that you could apparently get as much time for stealing a rich man's car, as you could for murdering a bum.

  The memory of that day in court came back to me as I tried to settle into the meditation. There was also the thought of Summi, sweeping the walkways in the sun - unless Jackson had talked her into bunking off for another swim. It was no good: I just couldn't relax.

  After a couple of hours, Master Yi tinkled the little bell to say our time was up. The gates opened and all us weary meditators groaned with relief and shuffled out, blinking, into the glare of the sun - except, this time I made sure I was the last one past Master Yi. I gave the old guy a polite bow, and asked him for help. Master Yi, smiled and beckoned for me to sit. Meanwhile one of the monks moved in closer, hovering in case of trouble, I guessed.

  "It's just that I really want to get it," I told him. "It's like a puzzle, and I've always had a way with puzzles. You twist them this way and that, and eventually, with a bit of thought and some patience, the puzzle comes apart. But not this."

  Master Yi answered: "It's not that kind of puzzle, Jamjar. It's more a way of seeing that there's no puzzle in the first place. It's a feeling, nothing more, a sense of how to be, rather than a sense of what to do."

  "I see," I said, though I didn't see at all. "And the clue is in the statue?"

  "Yes."

  "But,… couldn't you just tell us what it is?"

  Master Yi smiled wistfully. "There are no words to describe it. The answer will come when you are ready to feel it."

  I ran the words around inside my head, waiting for the tumblers to click, but it was no good. Jackson would have said the old man was just taking the Mick - but I wasn't so sure.

  "This feeling, Master Yi,… can you tell me why it's so important?"

  "Well, once you get that feeling, you're free."

  My eyes popped open at that: "You mean free to leave?"

  Master Yi nodded. "Free in many other ways also."

  "But what's to stop any of us from just lying about it? I mean we could say we've got it, when we haven't."

  Master Yi chuckled. "You can't tell lies and expect to be free, Jamjar. And, you know, I wasn't born yesterday!"

  "I'm not sure I understand any of what you've told me. But you've definitely given me something else to think about."

  Master Yi nodded thoughtfully, then motioned for the attendant monk to come closer. "I think it's time we showed Jamjar to the fishpond," he said and there was a strange twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.

  The monk nodded, then beckoned for me to follow. As I rose however, I realized the monk had a bosom and that he was not in fact a monk, or indeed a man, at all.

  "I'm sorry," I said after we'd walked a little way. "I didn't know there were lady monks here."

  "We are not generally visible," she said.

  "Sorry, you'll be a nun, not a monk, I suppose."

  "I've never really thought about it," she said. "I am what I am, whether it has a name or not."

  She spoke gently and seemed amused by my expression. I imagined I'd been confused by the fact they all wore the same robes and all had shaved heads - but she not only looked like a woman, she moved like one as well. How could I not have noticed before?

  I was to call her Sister Jade, she said.

  She led me through a narrow gate and then I was led up a long flight of steps, to a higher level of the monastery. I could feel the sun burning through the back of my shirt but eventually we entered a dim passageway and came out into a cool courtyard, surrounded by shady apartments. In the middle of the courtyard there was a shallow pond with a tinkling fountain. Huge goldfish swam lazily.

  There were other inmates here, apparently living in the apartments but I didn't recognize any of them. Some looked up and nodded politely. Others seemed content just to sit and contemplate the slowly moving fish. They were different, I thought, older perhaps - there were books and board-games scattered about, and the gentle sound of conversation. There was not the same roughness about them - no alpha or beta males that I could see - just contented men and women. They seemed more,… cultured.

  I thought of Summi. If only she'd not fallen in with that idiot Jackson, she might have been here with me, in the company of this gentle woman, these gentle people. And Summi needed gentleness.

  "You look sad," she said. "Most people are happy when they come here for the first time."

  "I didn't mean to appear sad. It's very beautiful. I was just thinking of,… someone."

  "Do you like it here?"

  "Yes. Very much."

  "Then you may collect your belongings and move into the apartment on the corner if you wish."

  "I can? But why?"

  "Because Master Yi permits it. You may come here, or stay below with your friends. The choice is yours."

  "I don't understand."

  "You have progressed to a higher level," she said. "You have been rewarded."

  "But all I did was ask a question."

  "Sometimes that's all it takes. It depends on the question of course."

  "And are there other levels, other places hidden away?"

  "Yes, there are many."

  "Does this mean I don't have to meditate in front of the statue any more?"

  "You must always return to the courtyard for meditation, if you wish to be free."

  "Can I bring others with me here - a friend perhaps?"

 
; "No. That is not permitted."

  "May I ask why?"

  "Because they have not earned it."

  I made my way back to the dorms which were pleasant enough, very open and clean, but I had to admit they weren't as sublimely attractive as the shaded apartments. I should have been very happy with the privilege, but I wasn't. In fact, I was afraid.

  In any penal system it's dangerous to be shown favour, and suicide to wear it like a badge. The meat-heads waste no time in bringing you back down to just below their level. Anything could do it - reading a book they thought too highbrow, or even cutting your hair in a certain way. And if I moved up to the apartment, I'd still have to come down for the meditation, and mix with the others. It would only be a matter of time before I was snatched behind a wall and given a good kicking. And Jackson? Well, I reckoned Jackson might be the one who organized the kicking.

  It also bothered me I'd never seen the inmates of those apartments before. They obviously didn't mix with the lower level scum like me, maybe for fear of their upper class highbrow skins - yet unless they visited the courtyard for meditation, they could not be free either. A terrible thought struck me: did that mean they would never be free?