The God Equation and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF

away.”
    “This place is pretty despite the silly name,” he said, examining the chart in the fading light. “There ’ s just no food, no water, and it ’ s too hot during the day and fabulously freezing at night. Disappointing.”
    “ The Disappointing Islands. Though when he first discovered it, he named it San Pablo.”
    “Who?”
    She didn ’ t answer immediately as she was lost in her thoughts.
    * * *
    They had landed on the uninhabited atoll a little over a week ago, a dark rubber boat with an outboard motor, two marines, and one mission. Most of the islet ’ s perimeter featured jagged rock and coral. Captain Fatima Rodriguez maneuvered the boat around the islet then directed it toward the driest, sandiest side. A narrow strip of sand peeked out of the sea; she suspected the shoreline came dangerously close to disappearing at high tide.
    Lieutenant Tomas Estregan leaped into the water as Fatima cut the engine. He pulled the boat toward the beach, and dragged it in the sand a few meters, deliberately forcing Fatima to sit back for the ride.
    He parked it behind a coral outcrop, secured the boat. He proceeded to prepare their camp while Fatima surveyed the eastern horizon. This is the perfect spot, she thought.
    With only one khaki dome tent and one sleeping bag, they agreed to take turns keeping watch. After sharing a light meal of cold combat rations, they spent their first night in complete darkness, sleeping in three-hour shifts. After Tomas ’ s second shift ended at 0300 hours, it was Fatima ’ s turn. She yawned, checked her watch, and lowered the night vision goggles over her eyes. The smell of the sea, the sound of the surf, and the gentle snores of her companion were all she had for entertainment. Her view was dark and boring.
    She fell asleep at 0400 hours. When she awoke at dawn, she saw their rubber boat floating in the sea. “Son of a bitch,” she mumbled. She leaped to her feet and ran barefoot into the water, kicking at the oncoming waves. She tripped and fell forward, managed to catch her footing but not before scraping her ankle against the reef. “Son of a bitch!” she yelled, wincing in pain. She turned around, water up to her waist, and shouted, “Wake up, Lieutenant! The boat! Our boat ’ s drifting away!”
    She swam out to retrieve it, swallowing some water, her eyes stinging from brine and the white morning sky. Tomas swam to her and together they pulled the boat back to camp.
    He inspected her wound, which bled profusely. Tomas reached for the first aid kit and treated her injury with antiseptic. “Take it easy,” she hissed.
    “You should try to keep this dry for a few days,” he said.
    She shook her head. “Salt water will help it heal faster. Don ’ t bandage it.” Blood and pus were oozing out of the wound, and her ankle had swelled. “We should check our gear.”
    They inspected their equipment and supplies, which remained hidden on the boat beneath a blue-black tarp to protect it from sand and s alt water: food rations… check… fresh water … check… battery pack… check … extra fu el… check… two AK-47 carbines … check … twenty clips of ammo ... check ... t wenty rocket propelled grenades … check ... one rocket launcher … check.
    They were going to meet Victoria that morning, as scheduled, and they were ready to give her the welcome she deserved.
    Morning turned into noon and Victoria never showed up.
    “We should search for her,” suggested Tomas as the afternoon began to mature.
    “Trust the plan,” she said. “Trust me.”
    “I trust you, ma ’ am.”
    “She ’ ll show.”
    But she never did.
    So they spent their second night together. It was colder than the first. Fatima suspected Tomas had stopped trusting her.
    She couldn ’ t blame Tomas. Trust is a greedy emotio n you can ’ t have “a little” of. I t ’ s all or nothing. She herself had a hard time trusting her superiors when they first recruited her for the mission. It