THE ISLAND 

By Tessa Harvey


    Elijah was lying nearby. Not being stupid, he made sure he was in the shade before feigning slow collapse. Before this catastrophe he had just been an unobtrusive, but skillful thief. So he lay down a bit and watched and listened.
    The stupid female crying for "Don" should have opted out of life years ago, he figured. These new laws were good. Clear the debris of society's oldies. Still, Elijah had managed to "find" a good haul in her nearby bag - plastic cash, a credit card and nice necklace.
    A hand tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me mate." The voice was steely, but polite. Elijah forced open his eyes. "Oh, who are you, sir?" he asked, weakly as though confused. "First mate, Lester Shayle, as you know well Elijah Cummings. I suggest you hand over your ill-gotten gains, as they say." "Now!" he added, still soft and smooth, but all the velvet had gone from his voice."
    Elijah reluctantly complied. He had opened his mouth to argue the toss, but as though the other man had heard his thoughts, Lester added "And we will watch you do. Now come and give a hand. So much to be done! Reluctantly, limping, Elijah followed.

    


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