Ode to a Fish Sandwich Read Online Free Page A

transitioned into jet-black darkness on the ground inside the thicket.
    “It’s just my imagination,” he said shakily, but his earlier reserves of courage were quickly being depleted.
    What had the security guards been so worried about , he wondered apprehensively. What was so dangerous about this road? He tightened his grip on the umbrella handle. And why did I ignore their warnings?  
    The doctor continued on, pausing at regular intervals to look over his shoulder. With every dusty footfall, the cane field crept in closer, and the crackling and popping of branches sounded more and more human in nature. He could have sworn someone was watching his every move.
    Finally, in the distance, he spied the sea’s flat blue horizon. It was a welcoming sight to the now trembling dermatologist.
    The open view was accompanied by a stronger airflow, a channeling gust that sent a rippling wave through the cane—and carried with it the semblance of a raspy whisper.
    He could bear it no longer.
    He took off at a high-speed sprint, his canvas hat flopping around his neck, tethered only by its chinstrap, the umbrella swinging wildly in the air.
    ~
    IT WASN’T UNTIL Dr. Jones reached the shore—where the wide expanse of the sea swallowed all sound but that of its lapping waves—that he finally slowed his pace.
    Panting, he looked back at the narrow passage through the cane field. It was nothing but a harmless stretch of road, an innocent dirt path circling beneath the cone of the volcano.
    Pivoting, he turned to gaze at the beach, a ribbon of creamy white sand strewn with burnt red boulders. Above, he took in a sky soaked in indigo and dotted with a few lazy clouds.
    It was a tropical postcard. He had been foolish to let the wind play tricks with his mind.
    While he was just as exposed and vulnerable as before, the picturesque scenery made him feel far less endangered. He was soon ambling along at a leisurely pace, gradually making his way around the island’s southern circumference.
    But the same spirit who had tracked him from the resort’s front gates and through the gauntlet of sugarcane continued to monitor his progress into town.

Chapter 4
A Delicious Sandwich
    WINNIE STOOD IN the diner’s kitchen, readying her cooking station for the day’s lunch service. She never knew how many eaters might show up for any given meal, but she liked to be prepared.
    A few hours earlier, Burt had dropped off a nice catch from the morning’s fishing. She had just finished carving it into a number of thick filets. A half-dozen seasoned pieces were queued up for the lunch crowd.
    After cleaning her butcher knife, she carried a plate of unusable cuttings to a group of feral cats waiting outside.
    The hungry felines pounced on the meal, devouring it instantly. By the time Winnie returned for the empty plate, the four-footed fish eaters were either sprawled in the shade beneath the back porch or lazing in the cool morning sand.
    As the day wore on, the cats would disappear into the cane field across the road, hunting the rodents that burrowed in its dense underbrush, but the felines never strayed far from the diner. There would be a second feeding after the supper service to clear out any uncooked filets that weren’t worth holding overnight in the kitchen’s tiny frig.
    The cats all had slim, slender bodies, but their physique was a reflection of the humid island heat, not a lack of nutrition.
    Returning to the kitchen, Winnie began sharpening her knife, nodding with approval as one of the scavengers hopped onto the outer ledge of her serving counter and began cleaning its paws with a rough pink tongue.  
    Theirs was a mutually beneficial arrangement that went beyond garbage disposal.
    The constant feline presence was the only effective means the chef had found to keep the rodents out of her cupboards.
    ~
    AS WINNIE BEGAN dicing pickled peppers for the day’s relish, the counter cat peeked curiously into the kitchen.
    “Stick to the