by S. C. Daiko
“We’re both dehydrated. Dry mouth. Loss of appetite. Not having to pee. I’ve got all the signs.”
“Yeah, me too.” I shuddered.
He waded out of the water, came and stood next to me. “How’s your head?” He lifted a hand like he was going to touch me.
I stepped away from him. “Still sore, but I’m no longer dizzy.”
“Think you can manage to walk as far as the abandoned house?”
“Sure. I’ll grab our life jackets and the empty water bottle.” I gaped at his bare feet. “You stay here.”
Within minutes I’d joined him back on the shingle and we set off. The island was shaped like a fried egg, it occurred to me as we walked around it.
Except the center is green not yellow-orange, of course.
I kept scanning the ocean for boats and the sky for planes.
Nothing.
Fidgeting with the life jacket I was holding, I asked Brash, “Where is everyone?”
“You mean, where’s search and rescue?” He set his jaw.
“Shouldn’t they be here by now?” I heard the irritation in my voice.
He shook his head. “It’s early days. We’ll need to be patient.”
“Surely there was some kind of tracking device on the plane?” I pulled at my disheveled hair.
“Only on the life raft.”
“Maybe Anaan found it and they’ve already tracked him?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Brash said, but I caught the dejection in his tone.
“We’ve gotta have hope.”
“Quite the Pollyanna, aren’t you?” he quipped.
Asshole.
I clamped my mouth shut before I said anything I might later regret. This wasn’t the time or place for arguments.
He stopped walking and pointed. “There’s the bungalow. Not far now.”
It was the size of a double-wide trailer home, more substantial than I’d imagined. Brash hopped over the burning sand, and I followed. The front door was half-open, hanging on rusty hinges. I stepped over the threshold onto a wooden floor.
Brash placed his hand on my arm. “Take care, it’s rotten in places.”
We inched across the room to another part of the building at the back and peered through the cracked panes of the window.
“Look, there’s the remnants of a path. If we follow it, we might come to a village.” The spark had suddenly returned to his eyes.
Humid air enveloped my skin and sweat trickled between my shoulder blades as I stepped outside. I tramped behind him through a swarm of mosquitoes, swatting them away with my hands.
Farther inland, the pungent smell of rotting vegetation invaded my senses. Overhanging coconut palms blocked almost all sunlight and the only sound was the snapping of branches and our panting breaths as we pushed our dehydrated, exhausted bodies beyond their limits.
“I can’t take another step,” I moaned.
“You don’t have to.” Brash sounded elated.
My heart thudded. “Is there a village?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.” He tugged me forward. “It’s some kind of orchard that’s run a little wild.”
The dense shrubs had cleared. “Oh. My. God. Mangoes.” Bright yellow fruit hung from a leafy green tree.
Brash was already reaching up. He picked one, handed it to me, and I peeled it with shaky fingers before biting into the sweet, succulent flesh. The sugar rush made me light-headed. “I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven.”
“There’s a shed over there,” he said between mouthfuls. “Let’s take a look.”
I quickly finished my mango and followed him.
The small building had been constructed with brick and concrete. The heavy iron door swung open. Various implements were scattered across the floor… what looked like pruning shears, a spade, a couple of large plastic canisters and a rusty knife.
“Wow,” I squealed.
“Wow, indeed,” Brash laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. “I might even manage a shave with that knife.”
He was joking, I hoped. “We could put it to better use sharpening a stick to make a spear.” I bumped his shoulder.
“Shame there aren’t any shoes.” He turned to peer at the corners of the shed. “My feet took a battering on that path.”
“I’d lend you my sneakers, but they wouldn’t fit you.”
I bounced my gaze to where his gaze had landed.
Small eyes glowed back at me, and my heart almost beat out of my chest.
What the hell?!
A rodent ran toward me and I let out a yelp.
Brash grabbed me and lifted me up. “Hey, it’s only a rat.”
I slid down his chest, shaking like a leaf. “I’m not scared of snakes or spiders. But rats and mice terrify me.” My breath stuttered. “Can we go back to the beach house, please?”
“Sure. Let’s take what we can carry.”
We did as he’d suggested. I gathered the plastic canisters, which would be useful for collecting rainwater. Brash picked up the gardening equipment and said he’d come back later to harvest mangoes, and what he thought were breadfruit.
I kept my eyes on the ground, trepidation making me wary of stepping on any rats. My foot knocked against something. A coconut! “We can use the husk as kindling, and we should gather some sticks and wood for the fire.”
Back at the bungalow, we dug a pit in front of the decking. Some of the rotten pieces would feed the flames once we’d gotten them going.
Which was freaking hard.
When I’d learned to make fire on my school expedition, there’d been a kit. All I had now was a stick and a chunk of wood we’d prized from the broken flooring.
I held the stick upright, perpendicular to the chunk of wood. Using both hands, with the stick between them, I rubbed them together until my palms blistered. Brash offered to help, but pride made me turn him down; I wouldn’t be defeated. Instead, he got on with sharpening the knife against a stone.
Finally, a wisp of smoke drifted up from the notch I’d worn in the wood.
“Congratulations, Aly,” Brash whooped. “You’re more than just a pretty face.”
“More like a member of the cast from Zombie Apocalypse,” I countered, imaging how I must look with my matted hair and bruised forehead.
I blew on the smoke until there was a glowing ember, which I transferred to the pieces of coconut husk we’d pulled off the fruit.
We piled sticks on top of the kindling, then added more, and soon we had a roaring fire, one that would be seen by a search plane, I hoped.
Brash used the knife to slice open a coconut, and we chewed on the meaty white flesh before sucking down the juice of another mango each. I’d expected there to be liquid in the coconut; but only unripe green ones had milk, apparently.
Replete, I lay in the shade at the side of the house while Brash started whittling the end of a long straight branch he’d found.
He hadn’t been a total asshole today, I thought, closing my eyes. I remembered him striding out of the ocean, his t-shirt clinging to his toned pecs. Sliding down his chest after he’d lifted me away from the rat had made my lower belly clench.
Not only my lower belly, but also my...
A shout from Brash interrupted my musing.
I glanced up.
Shit!
The sky had opened, and rain poured down with the force of a waterfall, instantly turning the fire into a soggy pile of charred wood.
“Fuck,” Brash groaned, staring at the mess. “We won’t be able to light another one until everything dries out.”
I wanted to cry, but what good would that do?
“Come on, we need to fill the cannisters,” I said, swallowing the tears of frustration that had surged in my throat.
“Thought I’d try this.” Brash stuck a broad leaf he’d picked into the mouth of the bottle to form a funnel. “It should channel the rainwater better.”
A
nd it did.
We sat holding the cannisters, the rain beating down on us like a warm shower. At least it was washing the dried blood from my face.
Hysterical laughter bubbled up within me. If anyone saw us now. Ben Collins, multi-billionaire luxury hotel developer and Alyona Abramovich, mafia princess, they’d think they’d slipped into an alternate universe.
And they’d be right.
“Can you hear that?” Brash stared up at the sky.
I strained my ears.
The rumble of a plane’s engines.
I leapt to my feet and ran onto the beach, raising my hands above my head and waving them back and forth. “We’re here,” I shouted, a bubble of happiness in my chest. “You’ve found us.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
Brash
I stumbled forward.
Fuck, the plane had already turned away, fucking heading in the opposite direction.
My belly tightened as the droning sound of the engines grew fainter.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Aly was still waving her arms, screaming, “Turn around. Fucking turn around!!!”
I grabbed her shoulders. “Stop, you’ll tire yourself out.” I took in a deep breath, trapped her in my gaze. “They’ve gone.”
“No,” she choked on a sob. “They’ll come back…”
I put my arm around her, but she pushed it away.
Plainly, she was on the verge of a meltdown.
“I’ll help you get the fire going again,” I said as calmly as I could. “There’ll be another plane. Your dad isn’t going to give up on us.”
She knuckled the liquid from her eyes. “I hope not.”
I put my arm around her again. “Atta girl.”
She didn’t push me away this time, leaning into me instead as I walked with her up the beach. The hot sand scorched the soles of my feet, but I didn’t give a fuck. I almost envied Aly her ability to give in to her feelings. I too had wanted to bellow my anguish that we hadn’t been rescued.
Goddamn tears had clogged the back of my throat, making it ache with hopelessness, but I’d learned to button down my emotions years ago and wouldn’t let myself show any weakness. Especially not in front of Aly.
I have to be strong for both of us.
Focus on the task at hand, I told myself back at the house. The wood was too wet to light, however. After several tries, we gave up and sat in the shade.
I poured water from the canister into the plastic bottle and guided it to Aly’s mouth. Her turquoise eyes met mine as she drank. Then she held the bottle to my lips. I curled my hand over hers while she tipped the liquid down my throat. I inhaled her scent, a mixture of salt and pheromones, and my balls grew tight— I shifted my butt on the sand.
We carried on drinking and passing the bottle between us. The water was warm with a hint of plastic.
“Maybe we should save some,” her voice shook.
“It’s the monsoon season.” I peered up at the retreating clouds. “It’ll rain every day. We’ll get a refill tomorrow.”
“That’s if we aren’t rescued beforehand.”
She was trying to put on a brave face, and I knew it.
The ‘moment’ that had passed between us, something which had burned hot and fierce, was clearly over.
Probably a good thing.
We need to focus on survival, even if my dick wants otherwise.
“When the wood dries out, I’ll figure out a way to keep a fire burning in the rain.” I rubbed my chin. “If I dig the pit deeper, build up layers of kindling, it might stay dry.”
“Sure.” She bit at her lips.
We stared at each other. I’m the kind of guy who has a plan for everything. Business strategies mapped out for months, if not years, in advance. I was so out of my comfort zone I had difficulty breathing.
I have zero clue what will happen to us.
“Come on.” I got to my feet and held out my hand. “Let’s make a couple of beds in the house to sleep on tonight.” I glanced at the spear I’d shaped earlier. “Then I’ll try and catch us something to eat.”
We did as I’d suggested. I cut branches off the shrubs behind the house with the knife, and Aly carried the foliage inside.
“I can manage,” she said when I offered to help with the bedding. “I’ll gather some leaves for improvised mattresses. You go fishing.”
I hopped over the scorching sand and waded waist deep into the ocean. Immediately shoals of nearly translucent fish surrounded me, but they were too small and quick to catch. I groaned in frustration as the minutes ticked by and I was unsuccessful at finding anything larger to spear.
From nowhere, something pinched my big toe.
Ouch!
I gazed through the crystal-clear water and almost laughed out loud.
A fucking crab!
I whipped off my t-shirt, bent and wrapped it around the crustacean. Bare-chested, I hurried back to the house.
Aly had managed to get the fire going again. She was kneeling next to it, fanning the flames.
“Look!” I opened out my t-shirt.
“Oh, my,” she touched a hand to her throat.
I shook the crab onto the fire.
She let out a squeal.
It didn’t take long for the shell to turn brown. Using two sticks, I levered the crab onto a flat rock. I pulled one of the claws away from the body before bashing it with a stone and handing it to her.
My eyes were glued to her mouth as she sucked out the flesh with a moan of pleasure. “Delicious.”
With a grunt, I followed suit. The crabmeat, although lacking hot melted butter, tasted amazing. Just wished there was more of it. I licked my fingers and let out a belch.
“You’re so gross,” she giggled.
I laughed with her.
We ate every last piece of that crab, leaving only a pile of split shells.
Aly cut some breadfruit and we toasted it on the fire. My belly felt fuller than it had since breakfast yesterday morning— but still not full enough.
“I need to go have a wash,” she groaned, sniffing her armpits after we’d finished supper. “Wish I had a change of clothes. I smell disgusting.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” And I hadn’t. I guessed it was because I smelled pretty bad myself. “You can go around naked,” I winked. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“You are joking, I hope,” she came right back at me.
You have no idea, little girl.
“Maybe,” I winked again, surprising myself at how nice I was being to her.
I wasn’t nice to women.
I used them for dirty sex.
Full stop.
“Here,” I said, handing Aly a piece of coconut. “It’s not soap—but it’s the only thing we have. Scrub yourself with sand then rub it all over you. I won’t look, I promise.”
She tilted her head, gave me a doubtful glance. “Pinky promise?”
I held out my little finger and she looped hers around it with a smile.
Once more I’d surprised myself. Becoming marooned on had obviously warped my brain cells.
I left her to wash and made my way back to the interior of the island to scavenge for what I could find. Which wasn’t much. Only a tin toolbox we’d missed in the concrete shed earlier containing a few rusty nails and a hammer. I picked more fruit and hobbled back to the beach, the soles of my feet stinging.
I stopped by the tree-line and my jaw dropped.
Years ago, I’d watched an old James Bond movie with Dad. The scene where the actress, Ursula Andress, strides out of the sea in a white bikini had stoked my teenage libido.
I gaped at Aly and my balls grew heavy with lust. Fuck, she was stunning. Her white bra and panties clung to her beautiful curves, and her long, blonde hair hung in wet strands over her shoulders. She walked up to the house and spread her shorts and t-shirt to dry on the sand in front of the fire. Glancing up, she saw me and waved.
After putting the tin box down and telling her what was i
nside, I peeled a mango and handed it to her. We sat next to each other, watching the sun set. Mosquitoes whined annoyingly around us. I was lucky, they didn’t like my blood, but Aly was getting bitten. “Here,” I handed her my t-shirt. It was filthy, but maybe the stink would act as a repellent. “Wrap that around you.”
She did so with a grateful smile. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said, scratching at a bite. “Remember when the plane ditched? Anaan said we’d run out of fuel.” She paused. “Do you really think the tank sprang a leak?”
I shot her a quick look. She’d given voice to a worry that had been niggling at the back of my mind all day. “I don’t know, to be honest. It’s implausible that someone would have sabotaged the plane. I don’t have any enemies, as far as I’m aware.”
She shook her head. “Neither do I.” She shrugged. “Maybe it was only an accident? I mean, planes can malfunction, can’t they?”
“If they aren’t maintained properly. I leave that to the management of my hotel...”
“You think Anaan survived?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“He had as much chance as we did, and we’ve made it.” I didn’t add, so far, but the thought was in the air between us.
Darkness had fallen and frogs in the thickets were making a chirping sound. “I’m tired,” Aly sighed. “Think I’ll go to bed.”
“Yeah, me too.”
After covering the fire with a lean-to of wood to keep it dry, I went for a pee before following her into the house. She’d placed the beds next to each other in that room at the back, covering them with a thick pile of leaves. We lay down, and exhaustion soon overcame us.
I woke some time later, with a jolt.
Aly was screaming in her sleep.
I got up, felt my way in the darkness over to her bed, and sat next to her. I brushed the hair back from her face. “Shush, little girl. You’re having a nightmare.”
Moonlight came through the window, lighting her face as she stared at me in confusion. “Where am I?”
“On the island. Remember?”
She creased her forehead. “I dreamed about that dude on the fishing boat. He was coming at me with a knife.”