by Alice Reeds
“No luck?” I eventually asked.
“What are these asses even doing?” he said without looking up. “It’s the middle of the day in the States. Usually everyone clings to their phones like they need them to survive, yet this one time it actually matters, nothing. My father the moron still hasn’t turned his phone back on, and no one at his office is picking up, either. What does he even pay them for?”
I didn’t say anything to that, just wondered if his emotions were real, whether he really had called anyone or if it was just part of the act. But it seemed authentic.
“Last one to try is our school,” he said, and did just that. I was glad he didn’t ask me to do it. My father would already kill me for this phone bill. But even before Miles made the call and turned on the speaker, I already had a feeling it wouldn’t work out. Nothing seemed to be on our side, everyone just magically gone, unreachable. I had no idea how it was possible, how any of this was possible, yet it was happening. In the end, Miles groaned, cut the call, and threw his phone onto his bedside table before leaving the room to change.
While I waited for him to return so I could do the same, I went back to my phone and clicked on the photos app. Scrolling through the nearly two thousand pictures I had saved, I stopped on one of my parents I’d taken last Christmas. They were sitting on the sofa in our living room, my father with his arm around my mother’s shoulders, the smile on her face happy and bright, brighter than the lights on our tree. My father was smiling, too, though much more subtly. According to my mom, I had his eyes, the same light shades of blue and the same shape, my skin just as untypically fair for someone living in Florida, my face more of a heart shape like my mom’s, though her nose was a little thinner, pointier than mine. Whose genes had given me my relatively full lips, I didn’t know, though Mom always argued that it came from my grandmother. She hated the scar I had above my left eye, but I thought it looked pretty badass.
It’d only been a day, yet I missed them. I missed the way my mom asked me about school the same way every single day, the way my father made me do drills during warm up, the dinners we ate together in the evening, the occasional movie nights my mom forced my father to participate in even if both she and I knew he would absolutely hate the one we’d picked.
We really were on our own.
…
I woke with a scream stuck in my throat. My eyes flew open as I sat up. There was nothing but darkness around me. Still night. My heart raced, and my breathing was wild, irregular, and shaky. I got rid of my blanket, threw it onto the foot of the bed, leaned my back against the wall, and pulled my knees up.
My body shook while tears streamed down my cheeks. I hugged my knees and placed my head on them. I felt so lost and alone, even though Miles was sleeping in the same room. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t understand any of it, nothing, not a single thing made sense.
A weird, strangled noise escaped my lips before I could stop it. I kept my eyes closed and tried to shut the world out, pretend I wasn’t here. Pretend this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t me. I didn’t behave like this, ever. I was stronger than this, yet here I was, unable to pull myself together. I could win fights and medals at a state level, but this situation I couldn’t deal with.
“Fiona?” Miles’s sleep-filled voice asked quietly. I didn’t answer, stayed the way I was. “Fiona?” he tried again.
I thought he moved. Stay away, I wanted to say, but I remained silent instead.
“What’s wrong?”
Sheets rustled, and the floor creaked ever so quietly as Miles moved, came closer. Maybe he even crouched down in front of me to be on my level. I wasn’t sure, though, because my eyes were still closed, my face hidden by the curtain of my hair.
I heard him move again. Maybe he was going back to bed; maybe he couldn’t be bothered enough to deal with me. But I was wrong. He sat down right there next to me. I felt the warmth of his body, so close.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We’ll be okay.” A moment later his hand was on my back. He pulled me toward him, his arm around my shoulders and my body leaning against his. His warmth on my skin, his smell in my nose, something citrusy with an underlying warm note that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Something woodsy. For a few seconds I allowed it, let myself be in that position.
I thought about why people felt drawn to him, could almost understand it, the way he pretended to care, pretended to calm me like I mattered somehow. He’d never failed to let me know that he cared about everyone but me, but in this moment, I let myself think that things were different. That I mattered to him. That I was as special to him as he seemed to make everyone else feel. That opening myself up to him, even if only for this moment, wouldn’t just get me hurt.
“We are completely fucked,” I said, nothing more than a whisper. “No one will help us; no one can get us back home.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice velvet. “We’ll find a way to get home, I promise.” For once, he didn’t sound cold or amused, flirty, or angry, just genuine. He sounded like someone I could like if things had been different. Sure, he looked good as hell, he was smart and more cultured than I’d thought, spoke German to a degree, which had been a huge perk so far, and now he was trying to console me. But really, that didn’t change anything, did it? That didn’t change what he’d done in the past.
I pulled myself together. I remembered who he was and why we disliked each other in the first place, that moment during my first week at our school that started it all.
After class, our calculus teacher, Mathersen, had pulled me aside and started reprimanding me for supposedly breaking some kind of rule and demanding an explanation I didn’t have. I hadn’t done anything, didn’t even know what he was talking about, but I felt like my body had frozen. I couldn’t speak no matter how much I wanted to explain that this was a mistake, that I wasn’t guilty of anything. I couldn’t do it. All I could think of in that moment was how afraid I was of that teacher, even though he wasn’t actually doing anything to me, wasn’t even shouting, of his threat to call my parents to tell them about it. If he were to do it, my father would get angry, would shout, would punish me for breaking rules, for acting out of line. The truth wouldn’t matter. Only what people believed.
But then, suddenly, Miles was there next to me. He stopped the teacher, told him that it hadn’t been me because it had been one of his friends who’d done it. I didn’t know if it was true or if Miles threw one of his friends under the bus, but I was grateful. Without being asked to, he helped me, even though he didn’t even know me. He’s a good guy, I’d thought, someone I could be friends with. So, once the teacher dismissed me, I wanted to thank Miles for it. I caught up with him in the hallway, but he spoke up before I could.
“That was kind of pathetic,” he said, killing anything I wanted to say just moments prior. “You should stand up for yourself instead of letting him talk to you like that. Mathersen is all bark and no bite. Next time, don’t be afraid of him. He really wouldn’t do anything.”
His tone had been amused, nonchalant even, like I was just some kind of entertainment, my fear something for him to laugh at, a child he was chastising for doing something silly. He didn’t sound mean, not outright, but it didn’t change what he’d called me.
Pathetic.
And then he walked away, just like that.
He wasn’t a good guy, I realized. He wasn’t even nice. He was an asshole, and who was he to speak to me like that? I wasn’t pathetic or weak. But somehow his words had stunned me enough that I couldn’t even tell him that, too shocked to say anything at all. A shade of disliking that very closely resembled hate bloomed inside my chest and only grew stronger as the years passed.
But what if, maybe, things had changed since then? Despite Joe’s warning, I hadn’t noticed Miles do anything suspicious, so what if I could trust him, if I could at least try to let him in? Even if that was the case, I had to think about it some more and the middle of the night wasn’t the right time f
or it.
“Whatever,” I finally said. “As much as I appreciate this gesture of yours, you should go to bed and back to sleep, Miles.” I pushed him away with both hands.
“Now you just sound straight up like the nanny Leon and I used to have as kids,” he said and moved away, though only a bit, his tone light. Leon? Did Miles have a brother? “You sure you’re good?”
“Yes!” That came out snappier than I intended it to.
“Okay,” he said, his tone sounding strangely close to disappointed or something like it, and finally got up. Halfway across the room he stopped and turned back toward me. “Just remember, we’re not screwed, okay? If we’re going to make it back home, I need you to not give up.”
How lucky for the both of us that I was raised to not even consider giving up as an option.
Chapter Eleven
The Island
As we ran back to the beach, I gauged Miles’s expressions, his pacing and breathing. He’d already surprised me more than once, and it seemed he wasn’t done. He kept up with me. And to be honest, I was surprising myself, the fact that I could still keep going after all the running I’d already done that day and recovering from the crash. But we were both excited with the computer board in hand. If he could get it working, we could get off this damn island.
At the same time, I wondered what would happen if his body would turn out to be weaker than his mentality, exhaustion stronger than the fear and adrenaline, and force him to stop. I didn’t know if we had time for a break, or if a break would equal being caught and torn apart by the beast. I simply didn’t know how many more punches his body would be able to take. It was already a miracle that he’d made it this far, considering he could barely stand earlier today.
I only knew my body was approaching its limits.
I didn’t want to lose him, didn’t want to consider what would happen if he gave up, if he stopped. It was an odd feeling, worrying about him, of all people. But on this island, he was all I had. Without him, I didn’t know if I’d be able to continue on. If I could bury another person. Burying the pilot, a complete stranger, had already been hard enough.
We made it back to the beach as the sun was going down. Drained and feeling like I was already asleep, I sank down into the sand. Its warmth bit into the exposed skin on my legs. I dug my hands into the sand until I reached the cool layer, anything to get my body to relax, to make the struggle smaller. It didn’t quite seem like my heart and lungs were getting the memo.
Miles took deep breaths and coughed next to me. I heard his steps moving away, the sand crunching as he went, the sound mixing with the waves, until he came back a moment later. He held out another bottle of water he’d taken from the plane. I opened it with unsteady hands, but the water was like healing magic on my dry throat. Already, I felt refreshed.
I had no idea how much longer I could last like this. But the simple answer was that I had to last until it was over. At least now we had the hope of the computer.
“What now?” I asked once my breathing evened out.
“With what?”
“That thing.” I nodded toward the tech in his hand, the odd cables and pieces attached to some green piece of plastic or something like it. “What do you need to get it to work?”
“My laptop and some tools.”
Quickly we got up and crossed the remaining distance to the plane. The only logical place for his laptop to be was the cargo area, in the back of our half of the plane, since he didn’t have any carry-on with him as far as I could remember. I would’ve been way too worried about something as valuable and expensive as a laptop to be handled by airport staff, but I guessed he didn’t care much. He could easily buy a new one if it disappeared. It took us a moment to figure out that the hatch in the rearmost wall of the passenger cabin would lead exactly there.
It took some fiddling with two relatively small silver handles to get it open. The inside was dark, just enough light coming in through the now-opened hatch for me to make out what I assumed were our suitcases and some empty cargo net hanging off of the wall. Nothing more. Shouldn’t there have been more? Life rafts? Supplies?
“What is that thing, actually?” Miles asked. It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. The beast.
“I have no idea. I only saw it off in the distance, pieces of it through the branches, nothing more. But it’s definitely something big, heavy, furry, and brown. I don’t know enough about animals to make any good guesses at what it could be.”
Miles nodded but didn’t say or ask anything more. Part of me wanted to know what it was, too. Maybe I’d be less afraid if it wasn’t this big mysterious thing anymore. But another part of me knew it would make no difference. My only hope was that it would stay in the jungle, that it wouldn’t come for us in the night and kill us in our sleep—if I’d even be able to sleep for as much as a minute.
Miles went in and dug out his laptop, briefly opening it, his face going hauntingly white in its bright glow. He rummaged a moment more, pulled out some other cable and a notebook, but it seemed like he was just making sure it was there, since he didn’t pull it out completely. He pushed it back between his clothes, got up, and then we went back outside to use what was left of the daylight.
We sat down in the sand, and Miles hooked everything up and balanced it on his knees. I wasn’t surprised that he seemed to have the newest MacBook Pro model, nor that it seemed to be gigantic, but if it would get the job done, it could be made of pure gold and decorated with Swarovski crystals for all I cared.
Slowly the sun disappeared behind the horizon, drowned in the ocean, and the night began around us. What time was it? Ten? Eleven? I guessed it didn’t make much of a difference.
It was getting cooler, at least in comparison to the oppressive heat of the day, a welcome change. I was glad we’d managed to take a few of those bananas with us, even if they were squished. It was still food. Slipping a few feet into the jungle to pee in the bushes, though, was about as awkward as I’d imagined it would be.
As the sunlight faded, the stars slowly turned brighter, and a quarter moon rose. Despite the waning light, Miles seemed determined to get this done, though I could see him struggle now.
He was still an asshole and an idiot. That hadn’t changed in the slightest. But he’d also shown he was more than that. And at least I wasn’t alone in this. Tom Hanks had Wilson; I had Miles. Hopefully he’d prove more helpful than a volleyball with a handprint on it.
I still couldn’t figure him out. He’d done so much for the both of us on the island. But then again, his own survival depended on it. I couldn’t forget that. Over the years he’d never helped me in any kind of way—well, at least not without making some kind of joke out of it first.
Case in point? Last year, one of our classmates had needed help. Nothing big, just a simple explanation to properly understand a chemistry assignment. Since I wasn’t nearly good enough to do it—my skills were less than stellar, no matter what those Briola aptitude tests said—I’d put aside my pride, told my friend to wait a minute, and asked Miles. He was, without a doubt, the best in our class. So why not ask him? Because that’s what people do for each other, right? Put aside their differences.
Not him. He’d flat out told me no.
I’d gotten annoyed—because, honestly, what even was his problem—flipped him off, and watched as he smiled, self-satisfied at my reaction, only throwing me off so much more. He laughed just a little, claimed he was just joking and that of course he’d help, then he got up and walked over to my friend.
With a muted thwap Miles closed his laptop, the sound pulling me back to the present. I turned to look at him, part of me hoping he would declare that he managed to get in a signal and send an SOS, that help was coming, but I quickly knew it wasn’t the case.
“Without a lamp, or sunlight, I won’t be able to fix anything and get everything running,” he said. “I’ll have to hope the battery will still have enough power tomorrow.”
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br /> I nodded at that but didn’t say anything. I’d hoped we’d have answers today, as soon as possible, but I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be quite that easy. Besides, I’d rather wait a night to get answers than not have any at all.
“Do you remember anything about the crash?” I asked.
“I fell asleep pretty early into the flight,” he said. “Any ideas as to what even happened? Like, what caused the plane to go down in the first place?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Could’ve been anything. Failed engine, bad weather.” And now we wouldn’t be able to ask the pilot.
“We’ll find out in the morning,” he said. “As soon as I can access the board.”
“Where the hell do you think we are?”
“Do I look like I know?” Frustration marked his words. “Listen, the board will tell us that, too. Why we crashed, where we are. It records everything. One thing I’m sure of, we’re nowhere close to Germany.”
“How do you know?”
He pointed at the ocean. “The water, it doesn’t look right.” The moonlight glittered across the steadily incoming waves like a sea of little mirrors. “I’ve seen pictures of beaches in Europe, and the water didn’t look like that, I think. It’s too turquoise, too light somehow.”
I raised a doubtful brow. “That doesn’t make sense. We were flying to Europe.”
“If you don’t like my theory, what’s yours?” he challenged.
I didn’t have one. I didn’t take geography and I certainly hadn’t looked up pictures of European beaches while doing research for this trip. The only ocean I’d ever seen was the Atlantic, from the shores of the U.S., and that definitely wasn’t where we were now.
Finally, I shook my head. I was tired and simply done with this day. Tomorrow wouldn’t necessarily be much better, but at least it would be a new day, a new chance, and if Miles could do what he claimed he could, maybe we’d find a way to get rescued tomorrow, would send some SOS and this awful nightmare would be over.