Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
If you're a warrior, killing a man in battle is easy. Fear is practically off the table, having been slowly eaten away by the monotonous drilling of military order and conviction toward the action of taking a life. Not only is it your job, you're also surrounded by the security of those like-minded. There's a comfort to the singularity of action, to the surety of purpose, to the brotherhood shared by hardship, bloodlust, and glory.
Or, at least, that's the idea.
But killing a man as a civilian, with no safety net, no clap on the back or reassurance that you were right to do it, is a much more immediately transcendent thing. He isn't The Enemy, as far as the world may see it. And even as you're killing this person, you may very well be taking your own life, scourged to prison and all the stark stigma therein.
This is the thought process that I woke up to that morning.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present:
It was the plan of a man walking to his own firing squad, with every moment surreal, defined by a future that had yet to manifest.
Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow... well, you know the rest
Strangely, though breakfast was still delicious, as was the cigarette afterward on the black rock jetty, there was a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth, coupled with a sense of time slowing to a crawl. It was like a dark, terrible Christmas.
So, having decided to explore what I could, while I could, I went to the other side of the island to speak with Dorsey, an islander famous for his restaurant, as well as his champion diving abilities. He'd heard about the night before From Al and Cassie and welcomed me with open arms, a strange thing to happen, given that my knuckles weren't bloodied and I'd been shooed off by two older women.
The cool part being, he had no idea what I had planned but was still happy to see me. I still smile at the idea of this, though I don't know why. Also, I think it should be noted that I couldn't find a better adjective to fit the moment than "cool." Because that's what it felt like.
Regardless, an hour later we were walking into the ocean for our tour, flippers and goggles on, trailed by a pair of German homosexuals, one of which held white-knuckle fast to a floating Styrofoam doughnut while the other playfully coaxed him on.
I remember thinking "Goddamnit, I'm going to miss women."
And from there, I was alone in the ocean, the fauna scattered by the recent storm, accompanied by three men that might as well have been minnows.
I thought about everything that I had dwelled upon to break myself down while I was on that black rock jetty. I couldn't help it. But this time, the whirlwind of violence and despair was made all the more poignant by thoughts of beauty and light. Things I would be taking from another human. Things that I would be denying myself.
Family. Friends. My dog.
At this, the sloshing of the waves took hold of my guts and I burst to the surface, vomiting up the breakfast that had been so delicious just a couple of hours previous. The hacking cough, the abdominal wrench, stomach acid eating away at my throat had just enough opportunity to crescendo before salty waves crashed into my face, mixing with the tears in my eyes, and stinging the bile-burnt portions of my esophagus. I'd swallow sea, then the cycle would repeat itself.
But everything ends, and eventually I went back to viewing the blue depths, with only tufts of dirt rising and falling with the undercurrent.
wheeeeee.
Still, I loved it for what it was.
After all, I wouldn't have another chance for quite some time.
When we returned to Dorsey's house/restaurant/snorkeling business, where he took us on a tour of his establishment. It turns out, when he wasn't busy with his other enterprises, he raised endangered turtles to repopulate the island. Also pigs. Turns out they're tasty.
I recognize this isn't the best video. Don't miss the point. This was a good guy following through with noble goals where he could find them.
After the tour, dinner was served, with fish, lobster, and conch in a garlic butter sauce, a King's meal fed to a doomed man.
With a couple of Tonas and good company, I forgot about my mission for a surprisingly joyous, blessed hour. It took the cab ride home for my murderous purpose to creep back in.
It would only be a couple of hours now. I had to get my kill-face on.
But when our taxi returned to our bungalows, Al and Cassie, already a little tipsy, invited me and another couple to have drinks. We talked and drank, each sip of my tequila sweeter than the last, as my company filled my soul like air might lungs.
As night got thick, our group diminished down to just me and Al, our conversations meandering from our past to where I would be heading next. I went with it.
"Managua's next. Then... who knows? Wherever I can go to relax."
"You can relax here, brother! Take your boots off!"
"I'm not taking my boots off."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm going to stab Adrian in the heart and throw his body in that swamp over there."
He stopped smiling.
Another few minutes of now painfully polite conversation and he left, presumably to sleep. I knew he couldn't possibly understand where I was coming from. But the look in that man's eyes still haunts me. His disappointment was palpable.
But I have no apologies.
Al went to sleep and I went to the rock jetty, praying for Adrian to show up, if for no other reason than to end the waiting into which I was forced. Roughly two hours later, I heard a commotion 50 yards away. As I arrived, my heart sank.
The German couple from earlier in the day were celebrating their anniversary by drunkenly stumbling from the beach back to their cabana. Worked up for nothing.
So I went back to the rock jetty. An hour after that and still nothing. No Adrian. No chance to temper my new-found security in who I defined myself to be. No chance to prove to the gods that I knew who I was.
I went back to my room.
I slept, angrily.
The following morning, I ate my breakfast, swam in the ocean, said goodbye to a now hesitant Al and Cassie, packed my backpack, and left Big Corn Island.
I figured my adventure was over.
But that night, my world shook.