The Island of Last Truth by Flavia Company, Laura McGloughlin Page A

island, for example? To share in the privileges I have at my disposal?”
    Souza heats water in a small saucepan, to make coffee.
    â€œAnd where has all this come from?”
    â€œWhy should I tell you?”
    â€œWhat could I do with your information, apart from eat it?”
    Prendel’s tone was defiant, in spite of his situation being much worse than Nelson’s. “We’ve been here over half a year,” Prendel comments, as if he is speaking to himself, but sure the other man is listening. And he adds in a hostile tone: “Half a year of sacrifices decided by you. Wasn’t it enough for you to see me lose my friends, my yacht, my life? How did you expect me not to try to steal a damn book from you?”
    Nelson takes the saucepan off the fire. He asks:
    â€œCoffee?”
    â€œWhiskey?” Prendel dares to suggest. Souza agrees and adds a few drops.
    â€œI won’t repeat it. It was a test. We are all put to the test, Prendel. Everyone is suspicious of everyone. Proof, proof, we ask for proof for everything. The other man’s word isn’t enough for us, we need him to prove what he says. That’s our tragedy. How do I know I can trust you? How do I know I can take you into the boat when we can finally leave here?”
    â€œYou can’t.” Prendel knew he was risking his life with that declaration. He knew, however, Nelson wouldn’t believe him if he said the opposite.
    Souza laughs. Prendel smiles.
    â€œHow did you know there was a boat on the island?”
    â€œTelling you won’t help you.”
    â€œTo satisfy my curiosity, at least.”
    â€œGerardo, the
Solimán’
s cook left all this here. He felt sorry for me, Gerardo. He confessed the island’s existence to me and assured me that, for pertinent circumstances he’d kept enough stuff to survive. He told me so I might try to escape, I suppose. Because he thought I wouldn’t succeed, certainly. Or perhaps he thought I’d propose we escape together, I don’t know. Old Gerardo, if he’s still alive, must think from time to time that maybe I am here. If he said it to the others, however, he would have to admit that he spoke to me about the existence of the island and that revelation would compromise his safety. His hands are tied.”
    â€œAnd how much time has to go by before they will have forgotten about you?”
    â€œMortality among pirates is high, Prendel. They die, they kill each other, their victims kill them. I’m confident that within a few years some will be caught and others will have snuffed it.”
    Prendel, determined to return to his cage, begins to walk towards the apron of sand which leads to the other part of the island.
    â€œI’ll take advantage of low tide,” he says.
    Souza stops him: “Wait.”
    He gives him the binoculars. Another test? wonders Prendel. And after Prendel thanks him and begins walking once again towards his zone, Souza follows him and says:
    â€œI think this is yours now.”
    He is referring to the Conrad. Prendel takes it. He looks at Souza, guards the book under his T-shirt, pulls down his cap and leaves, limping, little by little.

4.
    From that moment on, Prendel lives in desperation. Knowing about the existence of the boat has upset him. Now, indeed, he feels like a prisoner. He can’t escape, he can’t attack. All he can do is wait, survive and wait.
    But now things are clear between them. Souza is seen more often. There are nights he even plays a game of chess, which Prendel always wins.
    â€œYou have to obtain a victory in something,” Nelson provokes him. “Where I won’t tolerate losing is in life,” he adds.
    And Prendel asks him how he knows if he is winning or losing in life. How does he know, if so often when it seems one is losing, in reality he is winning.
    Prendel will keep the chess game forever. It symbolizes the game he won against life, if