Excerpt:
Sheila opened her eyes as he was pumping his load into her, but his flashlight was off now and there was no moon, so she saw only his dark bulk laboring over her, and even afterward she never got a good look at his face. Probably he wanted it that way. She remembered very little of what followed, so exhausted and delirious was she from her three days on the dike. There were of course more questions, and once again--even in her fuzzy state of mind--she refrained from mentioning her abduction and rape. She asked him if he would please take her to her aunt's house in West Sago Beach, and he said that was eighty miles away, but he would take her to a place where she could catch a ride. There was something about his wife and kids back at the dock and so, naturally, he couldn't take her there.
So then they were in a little boat, speeding through the dark water of the canal, the cool spray flying in her face. The fisherman had (begrudgingly, it appears) given her a white T-shirt to wear. It smelled fishy, Sheila remembered, but she didn't care. Soon the boat slowed down and turned to the left into a narrower canal, almost a ditch, overhung with casuarina boughs. There was no dike here; the ditch was flanked on both sides by cultivated fields, and she could smell peppers and over-ripe tomatoes. Then, in the distance she saw the flash of headlights crossing the canal up ahead. A bridge. A road with cars on it. She had never realized how wonderful such everyday things could be. Surely the dream was nearly over.
Sheila opened her eyes as he was pumping his load into her, but his flashlight was off now and there was no moon, so she saw only his dark bulk laboring over her, and even afterward she never got a good look at his face. Probably he wanted it that way. She remembered very little of what followed, so exhausted and delirious was she from her three days on the dike. There were of course more questions, and once again--even in her fuzzy state of mind--she refrained from mentioning her abduction and rape. She asked him if he would please take her to her aunt's house in West Sago Beach, and he said that was eighty miles away, but he would take her to a place where she could catch a ride. There was something about his wife and kids back at the dock and so, naturally, he couldn't take her there.
So then they were in a little boat, speeding through the dark water of the canal, the cool spray flying in her face. The fisherman had (begrudgingly, it appears) given her a white T-shirt to wear. It smelled fishy, Sheila remembered, but she didn't care. Soon the boat slowed down and turned to the left into a narrower canal, almost a ditch, overhung with casuarina boughs. There was no dike here; the ditch was flanked on both sides by cultivated fields, and she could smell peppers and over-ripe tomatoes. Then, in the distance she saw the flash of headlights crossing the canal up ahead. A bridge. A road with cars on it. She had never realized how wonderful such everyday things could be. Surely the dream was nearly over.