by Kim Pritekel
Rachel groaned softly, trying to turn to her side, but the sting came again- pee, pee, pee. Gotta pee! Green eyes opened, the author looking around her. She couldn’t tell where the sky ended and the sea began, the darkness was so complete. Glancing up, Rachel wondered if it was heavy cloud cover that kept the stars away. Funny how earlier in the day, floating aimlessly in a would-be slide, she’d thought about the stars, thinking that they’d probably be magnificent out here in the middle of nowhere.
She smiled at her own slight disappointment. Rachel thought back to her childhood, her sisters, all three of them, would lay out on the grass in the backyard, gazing up at the stars. They inevitably fell into their game- Veronica, the oldest, would pick an area of the sky. Daisy would pick the grouping, and Danielle would say what she thought it looked like. Three pairs of eyes would look to the youngest, waiting for Rachel to weave a tale of the stars, maybe make up some ancient god, or just some crazy explanation of why a giant rabbit made of stars was gracing their night sky.
Before she realized it, she had a full out grin on her face. She could hear her closest sister in age and friendship, running inside.
“Momma! Momma! Rachel said a snake slithered up a tree and into the sky! Is it true?”
A year and a half. Maybe Daisy was watching the blonde from the very sky she studied. Maybe she’d be joining her sister up there, looking down on the other two. Rachel had learned the hard and very painful way just how short life can be. One day she got a call from a very upset Daisy about the return test result from her gynecologist. The next, Daisy lay dying in Rachel’s spare bedroom.
Tears glisten on pale cheeks as the moon peeks out, only a teasing look, from heavy clouds. Rachel shivers as one rolls down into her ear; she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. No one is awake to see them. She wasn’t able to write a single word for the six months she’d cared for her sister, paying for all of her treatment. Everyday, Rachel had sat with Daisy, talking with her, crying with her, holding her and praying like she’d never prayed before. Danielle and Veronica had come as often as they could, their parents long gone. The four Holt girls were all that was left, and they stuck together.
That last night, something had been terribly wrong, Rachel had felt it. It was the one night Matt hadn’t argued with her for sleeping in Daisy’s room, and not in their own bed. The blonde had tossed and turned on the day bed that had been brought in next to Daisy’s bed, finally waking up, the echo of a nightmare still fresh. Sitting up, she had looked over at her sister, fear and dread gripping her heart.
“Daisy?” No response. Rachel had gotten out of bed, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpeting, just installed three months before Daisy’s arrival. “Daisy?” The author had carefully placed a knee on the mattress, crawling over to the stick-thin body that lay at the center of the big bed. Daisy lay on her back, head rolled to the left side, facing away from Rachel.
Rachel could still feel that coldness, nothing like it in the world. It was that feeling of fake, rubber skin, almost hard to the touch. The tears came faster now, Rachel’s grief of losing her beloved sister suddenly turning into the very real possibility of her own imminent death. Would it be weeks? Days? Hours?
Deciding that this vein of thought was going to help anything, Rachel pushed herself up into a sitting position, swiping at her eyes and sniffling quietly. She could barely make out the shadowy forms of Pam and Mia huddled at the other end of the raft. They were all so dehydrated and hungry, they’d tried to sleep away their hunger pangs and discomfort for the majority of the evening and into the night. Rachel wondered what time it was, then remembered why she’d woken in the first place.
“Shit,” she muttered, trying to decide what to do. She could jump over the side for a couple minutes, do her thing then climb back in. What if she lost her grip and fell? Neither Pam nor Mia would know. She could hang her butt off the side of the raft and pee all over herself. Scrap that idea. She began to contemplate just peeing in her pants when something caught her eye.
The raft rocked gently as she moved, turning to face behind her. The moon was playing peek-a-boo once more, and something caught her eye. No matter how much she squinted, it was just out of her visual grasp. Then, almost as if a beacon from above, lightening split the sky.
“Land!” She nearly fell out of the boat in her excitement, turning to her boat-mates. “Pam! Mia! Wake up! Land!” The blonde turned back, making sure it wasn’t simply a mirage to an emotionally overwhelmed mind. Nope, it was still there. She could feel her tears anew as relief washed over her.
The raft rocked violently as an extremely excited vet crossed to kneel next to the blonde.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Pam whispered, her arm wrapping around Rachel’s shoulders.
* * *
Sandy-colored brows drew, then flinched along with a wrinkling nose. Dean raised his head, crying out at the crack of his back, stuck from lying in the same position for hours on end. When he realized what was different, the attorney nearly fell off his tiny life raft in order to turn over, his back cracking again. No matter.
“Rain!” He raised his face to the heavens, opening his mouth and squinting his eyes shut as the sweet water fell upon him. He stuck his tongue out, desperately trapping every drop he could. Realizing that wasn’t working all that well, he cupped his hands, lapping at the deluge that gathered as quickly as it fell. He wanted to cry in relief, his throat finally opening, his chilled body responding to the stimulation.
Once Dean had had his fill, he looked around, wondering if by some miracle Florida had magically appeared. No such luck. His relief of water was short-lived as he realized just how hungry he was. What he wouldn’t do for a giant platter of lobster. He could feel his mouth watering at just the thought.
Lying down again, which allowed him to feel much steadier, Dean stared up into the sky, barely able to keep his eyes open as the drops fell. He looked at them, lightening making the sky glow every few moments, and Dean felt like he was stuck on the Millennium Falcon in that Star Wars movie, moving at light speed, or warp speed, or whatever the sexy Han Solo called it. It was like that with snow. He remembered driving at night and turning the headlights on bright, watching as the snow pelted the lights and windshield, just like the rain, at warp speed.
As Dean listened to the lapping water around him, he had never felt so alone, yet was surrounded by God’s creations. How could something be so beautiful as the ocean, yet so incredibly unforgiving? How many ships had gone down in these very waters? How many people had died where he lay? Would he be one of them? Would anyone back home, other than Will, care? Would anyone from his firm come to mourn his passing? Crying at an empty casket, as no doubt his body would never be found.
Dean felt anger course through him once more at the unfairness of it all. He hadn’t even wanted this damn trip! Why was he being punished? What, was it the pilot’s time to go, or what? How had he, one man, survived that awful crash? And basically without a scratch. Dean wasn’t bleeding anywhere, wasn’t hurting anywhere, other than his back and stomach from hunger pangs. He’d released his bladder several hours ago. Was he meant to survive this ordeal? Turn into Tom Hanks and talk to a volleyball, too?
Maybe if he survived he could have a TV movie made about him or something. How cool would that be? Maybe Collin Ferrell could play him. Dean grinned at that idea.
* * *
A life together- three kids, a nice spread and happiness. Gone. All gone in a blink of an eye. Michael stared up at the falling rain, the cool wetness easing the sting of his sunburned flesh and ravishing thirst. But even the rain couldn’t ease his torn soul or broken heart. He could feel the solid form in his arms, the coolness of Melissa’s skin, could still smell the shampoo she’d used that morning.
Not sure what was rain and what was weeping, Michael held tighter to the only woman he’d ever loved. He smiled, thinking of the bright-eyed woman his Mel was. The way she wouldn’t let him get away with anything. She’d give him that look that made him
stop whatever he was doing, guilt immediately filling every fiber of his being. Why had she stayed with him through the years? She had put up with his drunk tirades, losing jobs and years of fighting. Never did she falter in her love for him. Finally one day he’d woken up and realized that all his searching, all his bastardly escapades were for naught; everything he could want or need had been by his side the whole time. He’d left his beer untouched on the bar, dropped a few bills, and hurried home to make love to his wife.
Michael smiled, thinking of his three kids, two boys and a girl: Alan, Jenny and Conrad. What a handful they all were, and yet every day Melissa handled them with grace and aplomb. What were they going to do without a mother?
“I’m sorry, guys,” he told the rain.
* * *
“Pull it, come on!” Pam ordered with a groan, using her full body weight to try and tug the raft onto shore, flanked by Mia and Rachel. Finally the three women managed to get the heavy inflatable slide out of the water, all three collapsing to the hard-packed sand.
Rachel had never been so glad to touch land in her life. Grabbing fistfuls of sand, her head hung, hair falling into her eyes in wet strands. Taking deep breaths, Rachel allowed herself to be helped to her feet, then nearly lost her footing again as she was pulled into a monster hug filled with Pam’s profound relief, Mia joining the excitement.
Mia ran her hands along her hair, pushing it out of her face, noting the blonde woman running off into the bushes.
“Help me, Mia,” Pam said, tugging on the raft again. “We need to get this flipped. We’re going to need shelter from the rain.”
“Shouldn’t we let it gather water?” the girl asked, glancing around the tiny beach they’d landed on.
“I think right now we need shelter more.” The veterinarian glanced up as a streak of lightening split the sky, thunder growling through the heavy clouds. “We’ve got to get dry.”
Rachel had never been so relieved to pee in her life. She shivered as the mass amount of hot liquid left her body. Her skin was cold, body chilled, and beyond wet. The author didn’t think she could be as wet if she were standing under a shower spray!
Hurrying back to the beach, she grabbed a side of the heavy raft as Mia and Pam tried to turn it over. It finally flopped over, propped up on some thick foliage.
“Get underneath it!” Pam instructed, yelling to be heard over the thunder, the rain coming down in an even harder deluge. The three woman huddled together, watching their new world from the relative dry safety of their fort. Once again Mia was in Pam’s motherly embrace, the girl feeling numb, her body and mind in shock, unable to handle the fact that she’d just survived a devastating plane crash, lost her mother and was now stranded on some piece of rock with two strangers, and was most likely going to die. Her brain somersaulted over these facts as she shivered violently, wishing she’d gone down with her mother.
Pam noted the trembling of the young girl, and studied her with drawn brows. She was worried about young Mia, knowing that all this was a lot for a teenager to handle, considering everything else a teenager had to handle during that time in their life. She was afraid the girl was in shock, and knew she had to keep a careful eye on her. She looked over at the blonde, meeting her eyes for a moment, shaking her head to signify her worry.
Rachel’s gaze left Pam’s and moved to Mia. She knew the girl was devastated, and could relate, knowing exactly how she felt. Reaching out a cold, trembling hand, Rachel took Mia’s in her own, meeting the girl’s brief gaze. The blonde smiled when she felt a slight squeeze of Mia’s hand.
As the women watched, to their astonishment, as quickly as the rain had started, it stopped, trickling to a few drops before stopping altogether, only the sounds of water dripping from plant life filled the night. Until they heard it.
“What is that?” Rachel said, straining her ears. “A beat. Like a,” she listened further, “drum.”
“Oh god,” Pam muttered, eyes wide as she tried to take in all with her hearing alone. In her overwhelmed state of mind, it almost sounded tribal. “Have we landed on Easter Island, or something?”
Rachel said nothing, only tried to listen. “Maybe someone is here.”
“Maybe they have food,” Mia said quietly, peeking out from the overturned slide.
“Maybe we’d be the food,” Rachel supplied, her overactive imagination already whirling. Part of her wanted to go explore, and part of her was terrified at what she’d find.
* * *
“Damn it, bastard.” Denny growled, turning the cocoanut around, again, trying to see if she had made any progress. Another growl deep in her throat, she turned back to the rock and continued to pound the stubborn shell against the sharp edge. Suddenly after another half dozen poundings, she squealed in delight as liquid burst from the small crack. “Yes!”
The brunette raised the cocoanut to her mouth, swallowing down the cloudy water-like milk, almost moaning in pleasure. The rain water had been wonderful, but her stomach was revolting, craving sustenance. The milk drained, Denny began to tear the shell apart, piece by stubborn piece, until she was able to scoop the pure white cocoanut from the inside, greedily sucking it from her fingertips.
As she ate, Denny looked out from her shelter in the thick foliage, managing to stay dry during the deluge, which was trickling down to nothing more than a simple rainstorm. For the first time since she first knew there was trouble on the flight, Denny felt halfway good. She was relieved to be safe and out of the water, and relieved to have found some sort of food, even if minimal. Tomorrow, in the light of day, she’d explore the island and see what else she could find. If she were really lucky, there would actually be civilization, but she had serious doubts about that. For tonight, she’d stay in the little niche she’d found and try to get some sleep.
* * *
Dean was awoken abruptly as a huge wave rushed under the tiny raft he lay on, toppling him into the ocean. Bubbles and a smothered cry erupt to the surface, Dean sinking further down until his ruined Gucci shoes come into contact with something hard. Instinctively, he pushed off the surface, and shot back to the surface, gasping and clawing blindly for the seat cushions. They were gone.
Bobbing in the water as the sun began to break the horizon, Dean tried to gather his wits about him, and figure out he was going to do. The flimsy life preserver from the airplane was already deflating, and he couldn’t tread water forever. Then something occurred to him. Ducking his head back under water, he realized he did in fact see something solid. Shooting back down, his feet hit the surface maybe seven feet down. Breaking through the water again, Dean looked around him, swishing in the water. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing!
With a cry of triumph, Dean began to frantically swim toward land, maybe one hundred yards away. I can do this! I have to do this. He was exhausted, hungry and in desperate need of dry clothing, but it didn’t matter. Land! The muscles in his arms and legs were burning as badly as his lungs, but the attorney pushed it all to the back of his brain, doing his best to not think about it. Once he hit solid ground, other than just a reef, he could collapse and let his body rest.
Dean was breathing dangerously heavy as he crawled up onto shore, his legs finally giving out and he fell to his knees and finally to all fours. Shoulders heaving with his sobs of relief, Dean leaned down, pressing his face into the wet, cold sand, then looking up into the sky, just beginning to paint color across the horizon.
“Thank you,” he whispered, not a religious man, but this seemed like a blessing if he’d ever seen one. “Oh, thank you, God.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
Dean screamed, shocked to hear the voice of another person. He sprang to his feet, stumbling back as a wave crashed onto shore, taking him with it. He splashed in the receding water, spitting out a mouthful of salt water. The woman walked over to him, a smirk gracing her lips. Holding out a hand to him, he eyed her, stunned and even more relieved, as he took the help, gaining his feet.
“Are you okay?” Denny asked, amused by just how big around the man’s eyes were. He nodded dumbly. “Were you on the plane?” Again he nodded. “Me, too. Welcome to paradise.” She opened her arms, indicating the island, still shielded in the blue light of pre-dawn.
Dean was suddenly overwhelmed yet again, so relieved to not only find land, but another living person. He grabbed the woman with long, dark hair and crushed her to him, feeling her stiffen in surprise, then wrap her own arms around his back. The attorney couldn’t control his tears, feeling like a fool crying in this strange woman’s arms, but to her credit, she said nothing, just held him and let him cry it all out.
Denny wasn’t entirely surprised by the man’s reaction. Her own emotions had gotten the better of her more than once since she’d found herself lying on the beach. In truth, she was beyond glad to have him there. Two heads were better than one, and maybe they could combine their skills and knowledge to figure out a way to get home.
“I’m sorry,” he said at length, stepping back from the brunette. “I was just overcome.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” Denny kept a hand on his shoulder, adding just a bit more silent understanding as he wiped his face clean of tears, though left smears of wet sand. The coffee shop owner smile, bringing a hand up to gently swipe at the sticky grains. The man smiled in gratitude. “I’m Denny.”
“Dean.” The attorney was able to make out some of the woman’s features, but only just. He could tell her hair was dark and her eyes light. Judging by the splotchy light and dark on the woman’s face, her skin was no doubt as sunburned as his own. “How long have you been here?” he asked, noting that she was dry, her hair and clothing.
“I’m not sure. I think I woke up some time late afternoon, over on the beach,” she pointed to the spot where she’d awoke. Dean glanced over his shoulder, seeing she pointed further down the beach. “Come on, Dean.” Turning, Denny led the way back to her shelter. She’d heard something, which had woken her, and she’d run to the beach, her hopes of finding a search boat or plane dashed. Instead she’d found Dean, trying to make his way to land. The level of disappointment had nearly brought her to tears, but she was glad to be able to help a fellow survivor.