Stranded

by Sarah Goodwin

  Tired of waiting, I wandered further from the others with the hope that walking would warm me up. At the other end of the concrete front, I let out a breath. Finally, I felt unobserved and alone, which was a welcome change after the stressful crush of my journey. I knelt to rummage in my rucksack, digging out a knitted hat and jamming it onto my head.

  I was just considering layering on another jumper when a boat appeared around the edge of the craggy coastline. It was far too small to be the one we were waiting for, barely larger than a rowboat. I watched as it bobbed nearer and saw that it contained an elderly man, his face a rawish red and his overalls faded from navy to the colour of dust at the collar. He splashed out of the boat and hauled it up the ramp, then set about removing fishing creels. Inside I saw crabs scuttling like giant spiders, trying to escape.

  ‘Morning,’ I said, when he looked up and saw me there.

  ‘Morn’,’ he said, the wind snatching most of the word away.

  I watched him work for a moment or two more before my anxiety got the better of me. I went over to him.

  ‘Excuse me, do you know of any boats going from here to Buidseach Isle today? Only we were expecting it to be here around now.’ I indicated the others with a tip of my head.

  He stood, the freshly emptied creel in one hand, then, alarmingly, shook his head.

  ‘Not that I know,’ he said. His accent, considerably thicker than that of the taxi driver, took me a moment to decipher over the wind.

  ‘But you know of Buidseach Isle? It’s near here?’ I asked, wondering if I was saying it wrong.

  ‘It’s out there; no’ what I’d call near,’ he said, gesturing to the sea. ‘Don’t know anyone that’d go out there either. Risk their boat to the witch.’

  I was sure I’d misheard. ‘Witch?’

  He sniffed. ‘Buidseach means witch. Island’s named for one – an’ there’s been stories of that island since I was a little one. Dad used to scare me with them. He said if you ever end up near it, you’ve gone too far out for anyone to find you should you go down on its rocks. The witch’d reel you in and make soup from your bones.’

  I’d no idea what to say to that. I didn’t believe in witches, obviously, but rocks and shipwrecks were another thing entirely. My stomach turned over with new fear and the man seemed to notice, because he smiled and shook his head.

  ‘Only stories, lass. To teach me to respect the sea.’

  I tried to muster a smile back, then turned to search the horizon. No boat, not even a blur of land in the distance. The island was invisible to the mainland.

  I turned back to the fisherman and found that he had gathered his bucket of crabs and was letting himself into the cottage nearest me. Clearly I’d taken up enough of his time. I jumped when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning I found Zoe there, a chocolate bar in one hand.

  ‘Want some? It’s dairy-free, so it’s a bit shit, but I’m starving. There were no bloody vegan options at the B&B so I only had a bit of toast. I think I’d sell my nan for a chip butty right now.’

  I accepted a piece of chocolate gratefully. My last meal had been at a service station. Not what I would have chosen, but needs must. Had it been up to me I’d have gone for a proper roast with all the trimmings and a creamy rice pudding with a wrinkled nutmeg skin, just like Mum used to make every Sunday.

  I was about to suggest calling the contact number from the letter when a car horn shattered the peace of the harbour. A new looking 44 was easing its way down the hill towards us. As we turned to look, it honked again and I saw a man inside, waving excitedly.

  ‘Looks like this could be the telly people,’ Zoe said. ‘Kind of blatantly flashy, isn’t it?’

  I nodded. Although I didn’t know much about cars it was plain this one was very new. It was clean and finished with a scalding orange paintjob. It was also clear that the owner wasn’t very used to it, or perhaps he was just a terrible driver. It lurched to a stop on the cobbles and out popped a young man in a suit. Zoe and I traipsed over and formed a group with the others.

  ‘Good morning, all!’ he called against the sea wind. ‘Are you ready for an adventure?’

  I recognised his voice from the phone interview I’d done after sending in my application. This was Adrian, Sasha’s counterpart. I guessed she was the one giving the welcome speech to the men. Behind him, two guys in anoraks and woolly hats got out and started to unload bags.

  We gathered around like schoolkids on a day trip, bags in tow. Adrian was underdressed for the weather in a sharp navy suit and pink shirt. His elongated black loafers were not cobble-safe and he skidded a bit as he walked to meet us.

  ‘Boat’s on its way – little technical hiccup,’ he said breezily. ‘Now these two,’ he added, waving an arm at his two companions, one of whom had lit a cigarette, ‘are your cameramen. They’ll be on the island to maintain the various outdoor game cameras we’ve set up and to keep your body cameras in order.’

  The two cameramen looked basically identical, down to their pallid skin and sparse brown beards. Both were red-eyed and slouching tiredly, I guessed from the same stressful journey we’d all just gone through. One had quickly unfolded a tripod and was setting up a camera to film our send-off.

  ‘Eric and Ryan here will be staying on the island with you in a little command centre – but don’t worry, you won’t be seeing them and they’ll stay right out of your way. We want this as authentic as possible. To that end, you’ll each get a body camera to film each other with, and a solar power bank to keep them up and running. As you know, I do need to collect your mobile phones. Not that they’d work out there, but we can’t have you distracted, playing games or making outside recordings. They’ll be returned when we collect you from the island. There is, however, a communications set-up in the camera hut, for emergencies.’

  He produced a large padded envelope and we unloaded our phones. I noticed that Maxine’s was a decades-old handset, not even a smart phone. Zoe dropped hers in like a kid giving up their favourite toy. It was almost endearing.

  ‘Here’s the boat,’ Adrian said, relief evident in his voice. I turned and saw a medium-sized open boat with a small glass cabin, chugging towards us. My heart sank a little. We’d be on deck in the cold and spray then. I’d been looking forward to getting warm for a bit.

  ‘Just a little scene-setting before I send you off; this’ll be the opening of our first episode,’ Adrian continued, gesturing to the camera guys to start recording. While they repositioned the tripod I watched the boat draw towards the concrete slip.

  With everything in place, Adrian began his speech. ‘The world as we know it has come to an end. Disaster reigns and the mainland is no longer the safe and prosperous place it once was.

  ‘You are half of a team of eight brave survivors, searching for an unsullied refuge. Together you will remake society, starting again from the ruins to create utopia. You have one year to get it right, establish infrastructure, govern yourselves and build a future from flotsam, jetsam and the natural resources available to you. If you fail, humanity fails with you.’

  I cast an eye around the group. Zoe looked quite emotional, the camera guys were rolling their eyes at each other and Maxine had an expression of set determination.

  ‘Best of luck to you,’ Adrian concluded, ‘and I will see you all … in the New Year!’

  Adrian slithered back to the 44 on the treacherous cobbles and haltingly began to turn the car around. The cameramen shared a look and one of them muttered something that made the other choke with laughter, then cough until he spat on the cobbles.

  Together we boarded the boat as the sky gathered in for a storm.

  Chapter 3

  The sea was rough on the way out to the island.

  For a while the others attempted to talk and make plans for our arrival, but gradually all four of us fell silent, watching the horizon. We were all waiting to catch a glimpse of our new home. Our refuge. I was excited, despite being drenched with icy water a
nd scoured by the wind. The taller of the two cameramen, Eric, spent most of the journey clinging to the side and occasionally being loudly sick into the water below. The other man filmed for a while then stood, seemingly as impatient as us for the journey to end.

  ‘There it is!’ Zoe said, leaning at the prow like a kid in her gaudy mittens. ‘It’s real!’

  The island had appeared out of the mist of the horizon, a long greyish line with a dark blur of pine forest beyond. As we got closer I could see the spars and shards of rocks around it and remembered the fisherman telling me of the wrecks. I glanced at our captain, who was steering us with narrowed eyes and lips pressed to a thin line.

  The boat wove between the rocks, circling the island to its southern side, where the way was clearer. I watched as the captain threw the wheel left and right, the engine snarling and frothing like a mad dog as he fought the current. At last, we came to the shallow water that broke on the island’s beach of grey sand.

  Finally, we were there. I’d gotten away and left everything else behind.

  One by one we collected our bags then climbed over the side of the boat and splashed into the water, wading the last few steps to land. Standing on the fissured grey rock, slick with weed and bruise-coloured mussels, we watched the boat churn the water and leave us behind without ceremony.

  ‘Let’s get on then; it’s brass monkeys out here,’ Ryan said, hefting his camera bag and picking his way over the rocks to the beach. We followed. Zoe was practically fizzing with excitement beside me.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re really here!’

  ‘Me neither,’ I said. ‘I can’t wait to get a fire going, though. It’s freezing.’

  ‘Oh, that’s totally step one – that and a cuppa,’ she said.

  Once we were on the beach, Eric and Ryan wasted no time in distributing our cameras. They were all on nylon harnesses with clips to hold them at chest height.

  ‘Make sure you keep these on,’ Ryan said. He glanced at Eric, who still looked awful from the journey and was leaning on a rock. ‘They’re splash-proof, so basic­ally the only place you can’t take them is right under the water. Everywhere else is fine. As long as you’re OK with it going on telly.’ He winked at Zoe, who rolled her eyes. ‘Power packs are a doddle, just leave one in the sun when you’re using the other. Should charge even on cloudy days. They’re waterproof so you can use them in the rain. You break anything, we have spares.’

  ‘Will you be watching it as we film?’ Maxine asked as we all looped the straps across our chests and turned the cameras on.

  ‘Not live, but yeah, we’ll be checking that every-thing’s coming through OK. Everything’s backed up here, then when we get collected, Adrian gets to look at it and tell us we fucked up somehow,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘Now, the game cameras, like that one’ – he gestured to a black box just visible on a distant tree – ‘they also feed to us, but we’ll use the audio from yours so it’s really important you wear them. Literally the only time you’ll see us is if something breaks and we need to replace it. The cameras are solar, but please try not to cut down any trees we put them in.’ He zipped up the equipment case and nudged Eric. ‘Right then, we’re off to our generator and coffee – have fun.’

  ‘Wait, what about the others, where are they?’ I said, feeling my wet face instantly flame with embarrassment.

  ‘That’s for you guys to find out,’ Ryan said, waving his fingers in a mockery of Adrian’s ‘mysterious guide’ shtick. ‘But smart money would be on them already being here. Sasha was meeting them and she called from the road to wake Adrian up.’ With a snort of derision he turned away and they walked up the beach, Eric wobbling slightly. I fiddled with the unfamiliar weight of the camera and glanced around the group.

  ‘Should we go look for them?’ Zoe asked. ‘I mean, if they’re already out there somewhere, that’s probably the right thing to do … Right?’

  ‘Makes sense,’ Gill said, already picking up her bag. ‘Come on, ladies, let’s track down the boys.’

  I was reluctant to go looking for the others right away. Having grown slightly more comfortable with the other women I wanted to get to know them better before meeting anyone else. Still, I picked up my bag and followed them. We snaked our way in a short line across the beach to the edge of the woods, which straggled down one side of the sand as if trying to reach the sea.

  ‘Is anybody out there?’ Zoe shouted, grinning. ‘Hello!’

  Her voice bounced back from the trunks of the pines, a mess of sounds. Then came an answering whoop and a moment later a man crashed out of the woods, clutching a backpack. He turned and called back.

  ‘They’re over here! Guys! I found them!’ He grinned at us like a golden retriever, a young guy around Zoe’s age, a cigarette behind one ear. ‘S’up guys, I’m Shaun.’

  Zoe went in for a hug right away, as if they were old friends. I settled for saying my name and looking off into the trees, waiting for the rest of them to appear. They trooped into view soon enough, two guys around my age and an older man who looked to be in his mid-sixties.

  ‘This is Duncan, Andrew and Frank,’ Shaun said, waving them towards us. ‘Guys, Zoe, Maddy, Gill and Maxine.’

  Duncan did the rounds, shaking hands. I noticed the expensive outdoorsman sunglasses pushed up on his head. His face was pinkish and he reminded me of the posher rugby sorts from uni; pub crawl Saturday, pub lunch Sunday.

  Andrew had thick brown dreadlocks coiled into a bun. They were startlingly long and would probably have reached his waist otherwise. Tattoos encircled one bicep and he had on a pair of ratty dungarees. His accent gave nothing away but, much like Zoe, he could have been from any suitably cool university town in England.

  Frank on the other hand belonged in a pub, propping up the bar with a whippet at his feet and a red-top paper in front of his nose. His canvas fishing vest sported an alarming number of St. George flag patches and the frown he sent Zoe’s way felt very much like disapproval. In short, he appeared to be the kind of middle-class bigot my home village was populated with. I wondered if the producers had picked him for just that reason, putting a racist on an island with a black guy and an Indian girl to create drama.

  It should have been an exciting moment. It was, for the rest of them. Handshakes all round, Zoe hugging everyone, even Frank, much to his obvious confusion. Still, I felt peripheral, like I’d stumbled on a party I wasn’t actually invited to. There wasn’t much else to do but paste on a smile and imitate Zoe, shaking hands and saying how glad I was that they were there.

  Once the introductions were made, Duncan clapped sharply for attention. ‘Well then, chaps, looks like it’s time we got started, unless we want to sleep outside tonight.’

  There were murmurs of agreement, but no one moved. I think we were all a bit overwhelmed. Then Gillian spotted something in the distance.

  ‘What’s that over there?’ She pointed to a flash of blue at the high tide line.

  We went over to investigate and found a pile of construction pallets, some broken, some whole, nylon rope and plastic sheeting. A plastic crate turned out to contain nails, a hammer, tape measure and various other tools. The blue was a plastic folder attached to a pallet with electrical tape. Duncan marched over and pulled it free, then read from the paper inside.

  ‘“It looks like some supplies have washed up on the beach (or maybe others have been here before you?). Either way you now have materials to start building with. Keep an eye out for any supply caches previous survivors may have left behind!”’ He turned the paper over. ‘There’s a map, with a stream and the camera hut marked on it.’

  ‘Why’d they have to just hand stuff to us?’ Andrew said. ‘Fuck sake, I thought this was meant to be “authentic”.’

  Zoe raised her eyebrows at me. I raised mine back, glad for the inclusion.

  ‘I think it’s just so we don’t have to worry about cutting down trees or anything when it’s going to be dark soon,’ Maxine said. ‘We can make a
quick shelter with these and then start fresh tomorrow, when we have the time.’

  Andrew looked slightly appeased by this. ‘I still think it’s stupid. And these caches or whatever – we’re meant to be the last ones; it’s meant to be the End. This wouldn’t happen in real life.’

  ‘That why you signed up then?’ Zoe asked. ‘You want to do this all for real?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the point,’ Andrew said with a shrug. ‘All that stuff Sasha was saying – the oil and the pollution, that’s already happening. This –’ he indicated the long, barren beach ‘– is the future.’

  I could see where Andrew was coming from – this was after all meant to be a kind of social experiment. I’d known there would be some prepper types in the bunch. For myself, I hadn’t joined because I wanted a dry run of the end of the world. I’d just wanted to get away from my world for a bit.

  ‘Let’s get this stuff off the beach then – find a spot to set up camp,’ Duncan said. I was glad someone had taken the initiative.

  We carried the supplies up the beach, then went back for our bags. Beyond the sand rough grass ran right up to the treeline, and behind that was a dense forest of spruce and pine. The trees whispered in the sea wind. Beneath them was darkness.

  ‘Might as well set up here,’ Duncan said, standing on a flat spot just outside the forest. ‘We should split up and have some go looking for water and wood while the rest of us get on with the building.’

  I was about to volunteer to go looking for water when Zoe grabbed my arm and waved her hand in the air. ‘Maddy and me can get stuff for a fire.’

  ‘All right. Gill and …’ He pointed, the name clearly lost already.

  ‘Maxine.’

  ‘Right, sorry! Maxine and Gill can go and find a water source. Take the map, see if that stream’s close by.’