Charlie walked down the steps next to the pier and out onto the white sand. The long shadows of the pier in the early morning shaded the sand, keeping it damp and cool. Later, in the heat of day this sand would be blistering hot.
He walked to the dunes to his right surveying the naked beach as he walked. "Naked," he thought, "naked is right... there's not a soul around for miles." Shaking his head he remembered what it was like last year at this time with the Annual Nude Day Festivities just getting started. "Yeah, the early morning preparations were nice," he thought picturing the naked bodies busily covering each other in sunscreen.
Walking up the slight hill of the dune he smiled at the swaying grasses on his left and the pink blooms of the vines on his right. It wasn't until he reached the top of the dune that his smile disappeared. There, about a half a mile down the beach he saw a crowd of people.
Unfortunately, this Nude Day, everyone on the beach was wearing white hazmat clothing as they raked and bagged up the countless tar balls that littered the sand. Further out at the waterline there were large sandbags and floating booms soaking up and containing the oil.
Glancing back down at the beach between the dune and the pier he saw mostly clear sand. That wouldn't last for long because he could see it, just outside the lines of waves the menacing sheen reflected an array of rainbow colors in the sunlight. The odd allure of the sparkling colors hid the terrible menace just yards away from the beach, Charlie's beach... no, he didn't own it, but he did live most of his life within walking distance of this stretch of sand.
Turning away from the water, he headed back down the hill wondering what he would do the rest of the day. All his friends had driven inland to the lake where they were, no doubt, undressing and spreading the sunscreen. "Come on Charlie," they begged him, "Nude Day is too important to let some oil company ruin it."
He helped them load up their cars, but ignored their pleas. "Don't you get it, it's the whole point of Nude Day, of natural beauty and we simply are going to ignore what's happening here."
His friends argued that they wanted to help, but when they went out to work at the beaches they were turned away. Teams under control of either the company or the Coast Guard were the only people allowed to handle the material. They weren't about to allow a group toting ice chests full of beer and who knows what to take part in this "clean up."
Charlie knew what happened and was disappointed in his friend's half-hearted attempt to do something. While they gave up and worked on their Nude Day celebration, he contacted some local conservatory groups and spent the next few days rounding up the Dawn detergent and rags they had begged for before Palmolive showed up with a truck load of their product for the effort. He would have liked to do more but until more of the beaches and wildlife were befouled, they were simply getting ready to respond.
So, there he was, walking down the dune back towards the pier as millions of gallons of dark brown gunk moved closer and closer to ruining his sand, his beach, his life. As he moved back into the shadow of the pier, he noticed some movement up underneath the structure, where the waves were breaking onto the sand. A large bird or seal must have gotten tangled up in the wooden pier and exhausted itself trying to escape.
Charlie quickly headed down under the pier immediately realizing this was no bird or seal, it was a person, a woman!
He ran the last several yards towards her and seeing she was completely exhausted Charlie grabbed her and pulled her up out of the water. She was covered in a sticky, gooey dark brown substance that soaked into his tee shirt and shorts as well as cling to his skin. Preparing to give her mouth to mouth, he laid her out on the sand and then kneeled down beside her. Bending over her he put his ear to her mouth and heard a slight moan. She was breathing.
After confirming she was alive and breathing, he began looking her over more closely to determine if she had any injuries. Running his hands through her oily hair he checked her scalp all over but found no cuts or bumps that would indicate a head injury. He looked down at her neck but she was so covered in the brown gunk that he couldn't tell much.
Slowly running his hand down behind her head, he worked his fingers up over her throat and then down her chest. Moving his hands out over her breasts he first realized she wasn't wearing a top. "Damn oil," he said, grinding his teeth in frustration. He continued his exploration of her body confirming that she did not appear to be injured and she was completely naked.
While the woman seemed uninjured, there was no way she could walk, she was simply too exhausted, so Charlie tried to pick her up. Initially trying to simply lift her into his arms and tote her in like some conquering hero, he simply wasn't strong enough to lift and carry her like that. Ultimately he was able to get her upright, lean her onto one of the piers jutting up out of the sand and then fold her over his shoulder.
It was some work walking up through the soft sand and then climbing the steps up to the road level, but after pausing a couple of times on the way to catch his breath, he finally had her up off the beach. He leaned on the sign for the pier which was covered with a roughly painted plywood board that said, "Pier Closed due to B Poil." Shaking his head, he wondered how many people left the pier asking, "Just who this B Poil is and why is he closing our pier?"
Charlie crossed the deserted street and then covered the block and a half to his house. Although he was surrounded by empty rent houses, he was surprised his awkward trip drew no attention. Apparently the few permanent residents and the scant renters had all headed for the lake. Most of the people in this area were younger than him and an escape from the impending, dark brown oozy doom to a lake filled with naked people was simply too inviting for them to stay.
"Can't really blame them," he whispered to himself as he walked up the steps onto his porch and kicked off his shoes. Normally he'd grab a towel from the old wooden rocker a few of his neighbors had given him naming him the honorary grandfather of their group. Hell, he was maybe ten, fifteen years older than the youngest of them, but the graying stubble on his face and his slow, laid back demeanor must have reminded the kids of their grandparents. Anyway, the towel on his rocker wasn't going to clean this gunk off him or his... ah, guest.
He hadn't bothered locking the door that morning so he didn't have to fumble with the keys, he simply turned the knob, kicked the door and quickly headed up the stairs to his bathroom. Halfway up he couldn't help but pause to catch his breath, leaning her against the wall. As he pulled her away to make the last couple of steps up to the bathroom he noticed a big, greasy spot on the wall.
Figuring he'd just have to frame a few more of his photographs to cover up the spot, he stepped into the bathroom, carefully bent over and set her on the edge of the bathtub. Propping her up for a moment, he stood up, stretched his aching back and then eased her over. She slid into the tub leaving a dark streak on the white porcelain.
After listening to her and confirming she was still breathing okay, Charlie backed away and sat down on the toilet to rest a moment. Pondering what to do next he remembered he still had half a box of the Dawn Detergent in the back of his truck. While not entirely what he could do to clean all the oil off this woman, he figured if the green detergent worked for birds and wildlife, it would probably work on her.
Taking a few last breaths, he stood up, headed down the stairs and then went out to his truck. He paused a moment, then unlocked the truck door, reached under his seat and pulled out his camera. Charlie closed the door, walked to the bed of the truck, put his camera in the half empty box of Dawn bottles and then picked it up. Heading back into his house and up the stairs, he worked out his plan.
Putting the box on the floor, Charlie pulled out his camera, opened the case, pulled off the lens cap and quickly took a dozen or so pictures of the woman in the tub. Once satisfied he had documented her condition he turned to the box, pulled out two bottles of the detergent and then groaned. He stood up and ran back downstairs chiding himself, "Get your shit together man."
Thinking to himself, "This woman is in trouble," he grabbed his box of rags and headed back into his house. Rushing up the stairs he turned on the water at the tub, making sure the temperature was lukewarm. As the tub filled he dipped a rag into the water, squirted a bit of the green detergent onto it and then carefully began dabbing her face.
