Some years ago, the long string of tragic events started with a sudden appearance on the island and then death of the alien Golden Zandolie and his brethren.
Then, for a very short time, the Island was ruled by his children, giant and sterile mutants, who scared away the entire local (human) population – everyone except the Indians and pirates.
And now on the Island there has come a time of anarchy, without any government, electricity, transport or communications. At one end of the islet was Jolly Roger Cove – home to the modern pirates of the Caribbean, and at the other end was an Indian reservation led by its chief, Dominic.
People, who left the island in horror and haste, did not even want to remember their past life in this deceptive tropical paradise.
It seemed as if the whole world had forgotten about the very existence of an entire state, albeit a small one. No one was in a hurry to help, although the territory of the Island of Golden Zandolie could now easily be called a zone of humanitarian crisis.
It played into the hands of Roger and his pirate friends. A tropical island with many secret bays and outlawed was an excellent transshipment point for all “gifts of the sea”.
What about the Indians? What was it like for them, who grew up on many modern benefits of civilization (light, communications, the Internet), to be completely cut off from the outside world?
Even before that, the Indians were avoiding any contacts with the rest of the island's population. They were living very simply and separately, on the most inaccessible coast. They even had to fish, lowering the boats along the ropes from the high rocky shore.
And now the Indians could freely settle all over the Island. However, for some reason they were in no hurry to do this…
There was one more power on the Island – the Big Eyes’ Dragon, that is, aliens. UFOs continued to fly everywhere, often emerging unexpectedly right from the depths of the sea.
It seemed that the Island of Golden Zandolie was a heavenly place full of pristine beauty and tranquility, where there was enough room for everyone, be it pirates, Indians or even aliens…
Roger, the ever-cheerful Dutchman of about sixty-five, short and bald, with round glasses on a red nose, was sitting on the seashore on the terrace of the garden of his “Jolly Roger” tourist complex with an uncorked bottle of beer and pondering.
Things were going well as never before! From a simple, humble keeper of pirate booty and restaurateur, Roger has become the “chief pirate”, the brain center of all operations in the region. His authority has grown just fabulously! Pirates and smugglers of all stripes sought advice and conflict resolution, trusting him with their goods and their secrets.
However, Roger has never been so lonely! Many of his friends – Scott, Julia, Denis, Zina and others – had left the island.
His beloved nephew Jean-Paul had gone as well.
It was painful to remember about Jean Paul… That time Roger got simply scared. He knew about the Paris scandal. He knew that his nephew had lost his memory and could not clearly explain his findings and discoveries of hybrid life on the Island. But Roger did not come to his aid. After all, then his BUSINESS would suffer! The pirates would never forgive him for that. The island did not need any glory, except for bad one!
When Jean-Paul was visiting his uncle on the Island, Roger was reluctant to share with him any information about local aliens and mutants. First, he himself has never seen a single UFO. Secondly, he had a premonition that it would all end badly! It was easier not to notice anything…
Eventually Jean-Paul stopped calling him. Roger was left all alone with his pirates…
Woof!…Oh yeah! Not quite alone! Next to Roger sat his devoted German Shepherd Dushka! Which, for sure, also missed all the friends and nephew of the old red-nosed Dutchman Roger…
Suddenly a dusty SUV appeared in the parking lot of the complex. Who could it be and where did he get the gasoline? But yes, a handful of castaway marauders could still remain somewhere on the island.
Roger reached for a gun in a drawer under the bar. Oh, troubled times, there were only bandits everywhere!
But no, this was Dominic, the former Indian consul and the current chief of all Indians! He probably imagined himself the owner of the Island – how important he has become, how fat!
“Hello, Dominic, Big Hog!”
“And hello to you too, Roger, Red Nose!”
“Pour you a glass of fire-water?”
“No, I came on business! I want to remind you and warn you… The Big Eyes’ Dragon is our patron from time immemorial! The aliens are on our side! Now the great moment has finally arrived – the whole Island is ours again!”
“Not quite yours! I'm here!”
“Till I allow you to! There are thousands of us and plus aliens!”
Roger calmly pulled out his gun and placed it on the table in front of him, still sipping his beer. There was an uneasy silence. Dominic's olive eyes threw lightning, even his long braid of black wavy hair trembled at the end from the hot wave of anger that swept the Indian chief from head to toe.
Dominic knew he has to say something in return. He was infuriated by the calm look of Roger, the sneer in his malicious look over his round glasses. The Dutchman was a short old man, and the Indian was completely square, as if hewn out of stone by a man of about forty! Dominic could probably have destroyed Roger on the spot, despite his gun and his dog!
At this very moment, the shepherd dog Dushka growled warningly, as if reading the thoughts of the chief.
“Okay, Roger, here we are! Live, as long as you don’t bother us. But it would be better if you closed your business and drove back to your Europe!”
Dominic turned around, got into the car and drove away quickly, kicking up clouds of dust.
What kind of people?! Not so long ago, the late mutant Ray, the leader of the rebels, was shouting “my Island!” and sending lightning with a glance. And now this chief of the Redskins!
How Roger lacks normal human communication, with Jean-Paul, with Scott, with others… Oh…
Roger threw out his empty beer bottle and poured himself some rum. He loved “Absolut”, but now it was difficult to get, like any other fuel…
He pulled out a satellite phone from the safe and looked around. There was no connection on the island for a long time. This device was secretly sold to him by one of the hastily leaving telecoms specialists – the company's emergency phone in case of hurricanes.
Thank goodness, Roger managed to keep the phone secret from the pirates and sometimes charge it on the sly at night. This was his last link with the outside world.
At first, he decided that he didn’t need anyone, that he was a god and a king on the island… The pirates praised him and trusted him the lion's share of the loot – how not to go slightly mad after all… Especially, when not much left of your brain after years of drinking…
That what Roger was pondering about, when he finally decided to call his nephew… How shameful!… Maybe, really, give up everything and go home to Holland? How much does he need, the old man?
Roger dialed a familiar Parisian number, smiled, and immediately switched from English to French in conversation.
“Jean-Paul! Salut! Ça va?”
“Uncle! Where are you calling from! Doesn’t matter! How on time! I recalled everything! All our adventures on the island, all our amazing discoveries! Mutants, aliens, all!! And most importantly, tomorrow I will meet with a real, live hybridomorph, that is, a mutant, right here in Paris! O! Uncle! Forgive me, I've been terrible lately! I was thinking only about my lost discoveries and ruined reputation!”
“It