Return To Primordial Island, Rick Poldark [top non fiction books of all time .TXT] 📗

gizmos.” He leaned in, as if imparting a secret. “They have fabrics that bend light. Camouflage. Like in that movie, with the alien that runs around killing those soldiers.”

“I just want to get Peter and bring him back. I mean, his parents and sister think he’s dead. He’s got a niece and nephew who wonder where the heck he is.”

“We’re going to bring him back,” assured Lennox, flashing his smarmy grin again.

Tracey’s eyes lit up. “Oh…really...I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”

Lennox laughed. It was a hollow sound. “No, no. I won’t be going.”

Tracey smirked. “Oh, I see. I guess that makes you a liability.” He offered no reaction. The dig rolled off him like water off a duck’s back. “So, I’m an asset, not a liability?”

“You’re the only one who’s been on the island. You know what it’s like…what to expect.”

Tracey stabbed a finger into the air. “You mean I’m the only one crazy enough to have been there and return.”

Lennox nodded.

“Where are we going now?”

He looked relieved the conversation was going in a different direction now. “Straight to the airport. We’re flying you out to the off-shore oil rig. There you’ll meet the new team and be debriefed.”

Tracey decided to end the chit chat, as there was nothing more to discuss that was substantive or relevant with Mr. Lennox. He was the salesman, and he’d been effective in his pitch. He’d served his only purpose. Now it was time to meet with operations.

She used the rest of the car ride to the airport to mull over her conversations with Bill Gibson and Allison McGary. She had called them right after Lennox had left her house several days earlier. Bill chastised her for even entertaining his visit, let alone considering returning to the island. Regarding Peter, Bill had said that there was nothing to be done, it wasn’t her fault, and there were plenty of fish in the sea.

Her conversation with Allison, however, had gone much differently.

“Allie, I was paid a visit by David Lennox yesterday.”

Allison was silent for a moment. “He visited me last week.”

“You’re not considering…”

“No, I’m not,” said Allison, almost snapping at Tracey. “I have a family. Apparently, you are considering going back.”

Tracey sighed. “I think I might have to.”

“Peter.”

“Yes. I can’t just…leave him there.”

“Did Lennox show you the pictures?”

“He did. They look real. I know he’s still alive. I feel it.”

“You really care for him.”

“Of course I do. We’ve worked so closely together.”

“Oh, come on. What is it with young people today? Too chicken to say when they love someone.”

“I have to go back, Allie.”

“I know, hun.”

This time it was Tracey that was silent. “I didn’t expect you to agree with me. Bill sure didn’t.”

“If you were in Bill’s shoes, you’d say the same. Tracey, Bill and I found our soul mates. We built a life with them, and we won’t do anything to jeopardize that. Not again. We’ve moved on. But you…you are still finding that someone, and you’re still building your life, your career. You need to come to terms with your feelings about what happened on that island, with your feelings for Peter, or you’ll never move on. You’ll still be stuck on that island, reliving it over and over in your own personal hell.”

Allison was right. Tracey was still stuck on the island. She still woke in the middle of the night in cold sweats. She had been experiencing recurring nightmares, vivid ones, very lifelike. There was one recurring monster that haunted her in each and every one—the T. rex without the feathers. Sometimes, within the nightmare, he morphed into the feathered tyrannosaur.

He even appeared in nightmares that didn’t feature the island. The other night she had dreamed that she and Peter had gone to a diner. She had forgotten her purse and excused herself to retrieve it from the car. In her dream, she had crossed the parking lot to her car. She opened the door, pulled it out, and when she turned around, it was standing right there, waiting for her, growling through its teeth, its mouth closed, dark eyes glaring at her from underneath sharp cranial ridges.

In another dream, she was at the beach, sitting on a blanket, watching Peter dip his feet in the water. Her eyes had drifted off to the left, where she saw down the shoreline the Tyrannosaurus stomping towards him. She stood and cried out to him, jumping up and down and waving her arms, but Peter couldn’t hear her.

But it did. The T. rex lowered its head and bounded for her. She turned to run as fast as her legs would take her, but each time she looked over her shoulder, it was gaining on her, outpacing her with every thunderous footfall.

Every nightmare ended with it getting her, but right before it sunk its teeth into her body, she awoke, heart racing and drenched in sweat. She hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep without the aid of a glass of wine, which turned into cocktails and even pills. That monster was killing her in her real, waking life, and she knew she wouldn’t find peace until she confronted her fears and returned to that primordial island.

She had seen a psychologist at one point, at the recommendation of her physician and the prodding of her parents. He was a patient man with a kind bedside manner. When she related her nightmares to him, he had inquired about Peter, and through some feat in mental gymnastics had identified the T. rex as her fear of commitment. That was the last time she entertained psychotherapy, but even now she knew that she was the one engaging in mental gymnastics.

She knew what she had to do, and she was ready to do it. She only hoped she’d return in one