Captiva

several weeks, lost the predator's gleam.

I told myself I was a hermit. I told myself that I had become the captive of my own wild instincts. But we are all creatures of habit, and soon I had carved out a new routine that was very similar to my old routine. I ran along the beach each morning, collected specimens and took notes during the day; then I'd lie in my palm shack at night, listening to my shortwave radio.

It was something I heard on the shortwave that caused me to finally return to Florida. I was lying by the fire, using what remained of my clothes as a pillow. I had the radio's antenna extended as far as it would go, and I was tinkering with the slide tuner. I was trying to pick up something— anything—in Spanish, when I happened to come across a medical talk program on Voice of America. There was a lot of static, a lot of whiny electronic garble, but I listened because there seemed to be something very familiar about the voice of the woman being interviewed.

Heard her say: '. . . always considered myself to be a logical woman who is well grounded in the sciences, but I have no explanation for . . .'

Static.

I stood naked beside the fire and held the radio up in the air, turning slowly, trying to vector in on the signal.

Heard the woman's voice say, '. . . lightning strike, perhaps . . . filled the room with a brilliant white light. . . . May explain it, although . . . yes, there were a number of wires still attached . . .'

Static.

'... still talks about an alien presence in space, which he insists . . . never dead, only traveling . . . The man still describes his body as a spaceship. . . .'

Static.

Pulled the radio down to my ear because I was certain that I recognized the woman's voice. Heard Dr. Maria Corales say, '... only one other known case of such a recovery. Even so, for my own peace of mind as a surgeon . . . for my own spiritual peace of mind . . . doing more tests . . . Odd thing is? He believes, and I'm beginning to believe too. . . . Yes . . . God . . . I'm talking about God. . . .'

It took me all the next day to hike out to a dirt road, where I caught a lift into Darwin. The following morning—it was March 24, a Friday—I caught a Qantas flight home to see my friend Tomlinson.