My book has consumed me. I haven’t had the mental capacity to write about anything else. The final edit is underway, that is, if there is such a thing as a final edit. I haven’t kept up with this site for this reason. So I felt it was time to post another section of my book to keep it breathing, to keep it alive.
This piece takes place in St. Thomas USVI. It was wild. I really couldn’t believe it was happening until it was over. Time put on the breaks and everything moved in slow motion. Taken from the chapter “Bullets Fly in Paradise.”
One fine Caribbean morning I had a resort course in chest deep water at Coki Beach. I was going over the power inflater on the BC with my students and explaining how to deflate to go underwater when bullets rang out, cracking the still air savagely like barking dogs. The tranquil morning was broken. I looked in the direction of the shots and saw two West Indians running up the beach in our direction. The dude in back was holding a vicious looking hand gun and was taking wild pop shots at the other West Indian he was chasing. The natives were definitely restless.
Holy shit! Was I seeing what I was seeing? Island violence in all it’s glory. Brutal and mean, it was not only a sight of terror but also a theater of comical mayhem. The beach was littered with pasty white cruise ship passengers and hard body vacationers one minute, and then the next minute came white flashes of people scattering like ants, trying to take cover. Cups of rum punch and beer bottles flew up in the air, beach chairs clanked and squeaked kicking up fine white sand as they were thrown about. It was total chaos.
My students were facing me and were oblivious to what was happening. They were too focussed on me, which was a good thing. I had to think quick. Cat-like reflexes were key to avoiding stray lead shooting about. The students were still holding onto their inflater/deflater hoses and their regulators were in their mouths. Perfect!
“Ok everyone hold up your hoses and press the top deflate button and let all the air out of your BC,” I said. “Go all the way underwater and lay on your bellies. Do it now!” There must have been a sense of urgency in my voice because there was no hesitation on the students’ part. They dropped like rocks to the sandy bottom. As I went under I heard one more round fire. The threatening sound of the discharge while underwater was wicked and amplified. I looked at all my students and gave them the “OK” sign. They all gave me the sign back.
Thank God. I said to myself.
This excerpt just may appear in the next issue of Aquatica Magazine.
Below is Coki Beach where the shooting took place.