Land of the giants

 

“Time”

 

 

By Cindy D. Baker

 

 

Betty Hamilton sat beside the small pond, her alert face turned upwards, watching—and even more so—listening, for giants, human and otherwise, who might be coming through the thick foliage.

 

Forcing her bored mind not to wander, she let out a long, deep sigh.  Several months ago, after reconciling themselves to the disheartening fact that they probably wouldn’t be rescued any time soon—if at all—Steve Burton, the marooned ship’s captain, had initiated a more intensive plan of survival.  The training included listening to the forest’s own natural alarm system, namely its inhabitants, and using it against their foes.  When all was quiet that was when the “little people” knew to look up, and be wary.  It is a strategy, which has since helped them evade capture many times.

 

It was on one of those days that Barry, the youngest member of their group, and his dog, Chipper, while escaping one of Kobick’s guards had made a wonderful discovery.  The park’s gushing waterfall had created a “puddle” beneath a thicket at the backside of the fall’s mountainous formation.  Well hidden from the indigenous dangers of the planet, it was the perfect size “pool” for the stranded seven, who were thrilled to no end by being able to take baths again.

 

Scrutinizing the wildlife sounds around her, Betty tilted her head, mindful of the faint water movement behind her, knowing it to be Steve. 

 

The safety-conscious captain never actually swam, more like treaded water, and always kept the splashing to the absolute minimum.  He wouldn’t let himself take chances even when he was enjoying himself, and she knew he savored these swims better than all of them.  It was the only time he found solitude from the others, as well as himself, and the problems he so heavily carried. 

 

In her hands, the alarm of Steve’s wristwatch went off, causing her to jolt.  Quickly shutting it off, she scanned the area, her eyes and ears searching for any new movement.  There was none.  It hadn’t sounded long enough to attract any giants, nor was it loud enough to.

 

Or so she hoped.

 

Shifting position on the uncomfortable rock, Betty softly called over her shoulder: “Steve…”

 

“I heard, thank you,” came his immediate reply just beyond the boulder.

 

Always the careful one, he had not wanted to be in too long.  He never did.

 

Betty’s pretty face looked down at the scarred instrument in her palm.  Having been on guard duty several times (for Steve wouldn’t let any of them swim alone), she had become quite familiar with the metal timepiece.

 

Nothing elaborate, the silver design was simple with an extra strong casing as Steve so promptly found out after their crash.  The piece had old-fashion hands, as he preferred those to a digital display, plus a setting for dates, as well as all the time zones, which he, as a pilot, had needed for his international flights. 

 

The item itself had become the running gag of the camp, one of the few forms of entertainment they actually had left, because it was the only watch still running.  Mark Wilson, their resident engineer, wanted to open it and see what made it tick, but Dan Erickson, Steve’s co-pilot, argued, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it;” while Valerie Scott, the spoiled socialite, had teamed with con man, Alexander Fitzhugh, in insisting it was too precious for Steve to be wearing around his wrist, and should be enshrined in the Spindrift for safekeeping.  For the little people, the watch was the only thing that separated one monotonous day from the other.

 

“One day at a…”  Betty trailed off, staring at the date.  It seemed like forever since they had concerned themselves with specific days and times, and yet… December 31^st, the tiny window showcased.  The crease in her forehead deepened as she tried to figure out its significance.  Then it hit her—New Year’s Eve. 

 

Betty’s heart plummeted.  We’ve been here two and a half years!  But it wasn’t the years that bothered her so much as the date.  With the cherished memory still vivid in her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would be doing this night back on Earth.

 

Quietly stepping from behind the rock, Steve laid his jacket beside her, then began combing his wet hair with a spindly branch from a nearby thorn bush.

 

“Why didn’t you tell us it was New Year’s Eve?” she asked, not looking up.

 

Steve stopped mid-comb, his expression tightening.  “I didn’t know.  I try not to notice any more.”

 

Hearing his somber reply and realizing she had dumped something on him he preferred remaining ignorant of, Betty’s heart filled with remorse.

 

 “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice warm and sincere.  Raising her head, she forced a smile as she held the instrument out to him.  “Guess it doesn’t matter anyway, now does it?”

 

Steve took the watch, staring at the piece as if doing so could change their gloomy situation. 

 

“New Year’s Eve,” he muttered.  “I can’t even remember what I was doing two days ago let alone two years.”

 

“I can,” she responded, a little too quick for her comfort, feeling her cheeks redden.

 

“Big party?” he asked, raising a curious eyebrow, much to Betty’s surprise.  The captain usually had too many important things on his mind to be bothered with trivial matters.  Especially those that weren’t his own.

 

Not really wanting to tell him, nor wanting to remember herself, she brushed it off with a quick shrug.  “Pretty big.” 

 

Expecting Steve to dismiss it, her jaw fell open when the man, instead, sat down next to her.

 

“So, did you go voluntarily?  Or kicking and screaming?” he asked, flashing a mischievous grin and crossing his arms in anticipation.

 

Stunned, Betty broke into a smile.  This was the Steve she’d known so long ago; the side buried by the imperative safety of six other people.  “You too, huh?” she chuckled, remembering the disastrous parties she had been dragged to.

 

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, staring at his scoffed, worn shoes.  “That’s the one advantage of being here: no more smoke-filled hallways, over-crowded rooms, bad breath, or drunks hanging all over you.”

 

“Or the host abandoning you in a room full of people you don’t know, and whom you didn’t want to know in the first place,” she laughed as Steve joined in.

 

“So what happened at the party?”

 

Betty hesitated, still reluctant to tell him.  “Oh… just a lot of singing and dancing.  You know, people having a good time.”  

 

“But not you?” he said, sounding dubious.

 

“Oh…well…yeah.  I had a good time.”

 

“So where was this party?”

 

“France.  During a layover.  It was the, um…,” Betty looked up at the trees, “the American Embassy Ball given overseas for Americans.”

 

Steve’s jaw dropped.  “That’s some party.  Very exclusive.  I’m surprised you didn’t run into Valerie there.”

 

“She might have been.  I didn’t notice,” she shrugged.

 

“Kicking and screaming?”

 

“Every inch of the way!” she giggled.  “My friend worked for the Embassy, and gave me the usual spiel of meeting some nice, intelligent guys there, but it just wasn’t me… thousand-dollar dresses, diamonds that could choke a horse,” she shook her head as a dreamy look came to her face.  “Give me a log cabin and a fireplace any day.”

 

“So what happened?  You cut out?”

 

“Oh… in a manner of speaking,” she grinned crookedly.  “I hung out in the bar with the bartender.”

 

Steve had a hard time picturing this serene woman fighting off society wolves on the hunt—then gave himself a mental kick.  They’d been stranded there so long, he’d forgotten she had once been an adventurous stewardess, a world traveler.  She managed Mark Wilson just fine, and a woman who could do that could handle any male on any planet.

 

“It was in the guest lounge,” she explained.  “To keep a close eye on things the officials had set up a portable bar in the main lobby, so there was nobody in there except the bartender and me.”

 

“And then he came in.”

 

“How’d you know?” she asked, her blue eyes staring at him.

 

“That would be the only thing that would make it memorable,” he teased.  “Was it?”

 

Drawing her knees up, Betty hugged them, her eyes sparkling.  “Very much so.  He was a naval captain and was there in France on a business trip.  While there, his superior officer urged him to go to this event.  Not liking these things any more than I did, he also went looking for a place to hide.  After that, I couldn’t tell you what went on, it was just us.  We talked, danced, talked some more…,”  Betty let out a deep sigh.  “It was the best night of my life.”

 

“So what happened to him?”

 

Her gleam faded.  “He left later that night on an extended mission, and when he came back, I was gone, on Flight 612 to London.”

 

“I’m sorry,” was all Steve could say for her fallen face said it all.

 

“Wasn’t your fault.  At least I had one fantastic and very romantic night.  Many women never even get that much.  And it helps make this place more,” she took in their oversized environment, “bearable.”

 

Understanding explicitly, Steve retreated into his own profound thoughts.

 

Betty, refusing to let it bring her down, raised her head with determination.  “So, what about you, Captain?  Any memorable New Year Eves?”

 

Steve hesitated.  The hurt was still there.  “Just one,” he said quietly.  “About six years ago.  I was still doing the local runs and had big plans for the evening.”

 

“You were in love with her.”

 

Now it was Steve’s turn to gape.  “How did you know that?”

 

Betty looked sheepishly at her hands.  “The airline grapevine.  You hadn’t been seen dating during that time, and you didn’t seriously date anyone afterwards.  It was the only explanation.”

 

“Someday you’ll have to tell me what else you’ve heard,” he replied with mock annoyance.  Wanting to tell her more, he again paused.  No one except Dan knew the whole story.  He’d been too ashamed to talk about it with any one else. 

 

“We’d been dating for about a year,” he began, his face solemn, “and I was ready to take it to the next level.”

 

“Were you going to propose?”

 

“I wanted to, but I was still not sure,” he said, folding his arms.  “Something… something told me not to.”

 

“So did you?”

 

Steve’s face tightened.  “Didn’t have to.  Her husband showed up at the restaurant.”

 

Betty was glad she was sitting down.  “Her husband!”  Otherwise, she would have fallen down.

 

“She never told me she was married.  Seems she and her husband had ‘an understanding’.”

 

“You never suspected?”

 

He gave his head a brief shake.  “Didn’t have a clue.  Obviously I’m a lot better at Boy Scouting than I am at romance.”   

 

“So what did you do?”

 

“Walked away and never looked back.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she replied, echoing Steve’s sentiment.

 

“Not your fault,” he returned.  Leaning forward, he clasped his hands.  “Looking back on it now, I’d say I was pretty lucky to get out of a bad situation.”

 

“Oh, yeah, for you maybe,” she jested, trying to lighten the mood.  “Marrying men are in short supply as it is, and here she goes making another one skittish on us!  Let her keep her husband to herself and leave the single men for those of us still looking!” 

 

Steve peered up at her with a satisfied smirk.  “They divorced six months later.”

 

“Good!  Served her right for treating such a great guy like a fool!” 

 

“Fool?”

 

“All right,” she chuckled, “for stringing you along.”

 

“I don’t know,” he said, growing somber again.  “After two and a half years, I don’t feel so great.  Or smart.”

 

“Hey!”  Betty took his hand, squeezing it hard.  “You’ve done a great job keeping us alive.  We have food, shelter—our clothes leave a little something to be desired—but otherwise, we’re healthy, and at rare times, even content.  And just because you’ve lousy taste in women doesn’t mean you’re not a terrific leader!” 

 

“Thank you,” he said, his tone lacking conviction.

 

Betty leaned closer, putting an arm around him.  “Steve,” she said in no uncertain terms.  “We are alive.  And it is because of you that we are.  You’ve pulled us together as a team, giving us that slim chance at continued existence no matter how desolate it may be.  We cannot thank you enough for that, nor ever repay you for everything you’ve done for us.  And who’s to say we won’t be celebrating next New Year’s at home?”

 

Questioning her sincerity, he studied her face, but all he saw was blatant honesty.  “You never give up, do you?”

 

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I can’t.  I’ve seen us buck the odds too many times to believe we won’t be going back some day.  Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but in time, we will, some day.”

 

“Thank you,” he said, sincere this time.

 

Betty smiled tenderly.  “You’re welcome.”

 

“Speaking of home,” he said, straightening up and sliding off the rock, “we’d better be getting back to it.”

 

“Right,” she concurred, taking the hand he offered.

 

Pulling Betty to her feet, Steve eyed her for a moment then leaned forward, kissing her on the forehead.

 

“Happy New Year, Betty,” he said in response to her startled look.

 

“Happy New Year to you too, Steve,” she grinned back.

 

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