by Alice Reeds
Maybe I should’ve figured out a plan that would’ve meant less walking for Miles, for his poor hurt body, but I knew this was the only way. If I’d seen a taxi, I might’ve tried to get us into it, but the bus was the only thing that was there. So we got on it.
I watched the cops run toward the bus, but thankfully the bus driver didn’t seem to have noticed them, just closed the doors and drove off. The people around us gave us odd looks, raised brows and some looks of disgust and revulsion, but I ignored them. They could stick their opinions where the sun didn’t shine. I dared them to figure out how to act in our situation with only seconds to decide and make plans.
We got off at the next station and continued on foot.
Slowly, the air started to cool. The sun was setting, the streetlights turning on as time went by. We followed random streets and kept away from the main ones. One led us under a train bridge then over a river, past a postal outpost and a gigantic construction site, along a tree-lined alley past a cigarette factory and into a more industrial-looking district. Most of the buildings didn’t really look like they were in active use; understandable, since it was the middle of the night. A few cars passed us, but barely any pedestrians.
The cops didn’t show. I looked around us, behind us, checked, but I couldn’t spot them anywhere.
After we passed yet another bridge, this one next to a coffee factory with a gigantic poster and the smell of freshly brewed coffee floating through the air, we stopped in front of two glass signs talking about the Berlin Wall, which said that the wall followed the paved road along the water. We descended the steps to the asphalt path. It was surrounded by tall trees, shrubs, and grass. I had no idea where the path led, where we were exactly, but it wasn’t like we had any clear idea of what to do. Miles leaned against me more and more while my own legs grew more and more tired and demanded a break. I wanted to curl up in a ball of pity and despair, dissolve and disappear.
But I wouldn’t do that. No way.
Another bridge came into sight. What’s up with all the bridges? It was a highway bridge going over our path and the river to our right. There was loads of space under it, and so, even without words, we decided to seek shelter beneath it.
We climbed over the metal fence separating the path from a stretch of earth leading to the edge of the water. We decided to hide out behind the fence in hopes that strangers walking down the path at night wouldn’t notice us. We sat with our backs against the fence and our faces toward the lights of some factories across the river, a giant LED billboard illuminating everything around it.
“How did they find us?” Miles asked quietly after I checked the cut on his face. It’d stopped bleeding.
“I don’t know,” was my shitty answer. “Maybe because of the CCTV cameras. Maybe there were more of them than we thought. Maybe the one I knocked out got up and followed us after all. I have no idea.”
There were a million possibilities, and I didn’t want to think about them anymore. I was tired, wanted to sleep, wanted to escape our reality, take a break for just a minute, but that wasn’t an option. All I could hope for was that the cops wouldn’t think of looking here. There were no CCTV cameras anywhere even close to us; no one had even really been around to tell them they’d seen us. This was a far better hiding place than the hostel, even though it was a million times less comfortable. But if it meant we’d stay safe overnight, I was willing to do it.
Chilly wind swept past us and made me shiver. I pulled my jacket closer around me, wrapped my arms around my middle. I felt cold no matter what I tried. I had a feeling this would turn out to be the worst night of my life. How could it get any worse than this? All that was missing was rain, which I hoped wouldn’t come.
“You cold?” Miles said. I’d thought he was already asleep.
“Yeah,” I admitted. To my surprise, Miles pulled me close, his arm around me while my head rested on his shoulder. I could feel a hint of warmth coming from him, not much, but at least a bit. With a bit of luck, we wouldn’t freeze to death out here.
It made me think of Joe, of the nights he’d spent sleeping on his bench in the park. How did he do that? I guessed it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. I looked down at my wrist where the bracelet he’d given me rested. I wished I could rewind time and go back to my last conversation with him, the ease with which we talked, the relaxed atmosphere. But all that came up in my mind now when I thought of him was his message to me, the weight of how right he’d been sitting like an elephant on my chest.
“Miles?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?” No sleep was in sight, so I figured that maybe talking would make us more tired, and I was desperate for any kind of distraction, something to keep me from thinking about the cops.
“Sure.”
“What’s the deal with you and your father?”
“There isn’t much to say about him,” he said after a long pause. “He’s a self-absorbed idiot, an even bigger one since my mother died. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone besides himself.” I didn’t know his mother was dead. He’d never spoken about trying to reach her since this whole thing started, but the idea that she might be dead never crossed my mind.
“I’m sorry. About your mother, I mean.”
“Thanks,” he said, quietly. “It’s been a while since it happened, but I wish she were still here, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” And the truth was, I’d never felt bad for him, never even considered the possibility of doing so. My parents and I had problems—their current disappearance least of all—but they had always been there for me. My mom was my anchor. I couldn’t imagine life without her. “How is it possible that your father actually doesn’t mind you spending loads of money?”
He never answered.
There were other rich kids in our class, our school, but I never understood how it all worked. My own family wasn’t exactly destitute, not like we used to be, but we were still far from rich. Even my place in our school was only possible because of the scholarship. I’d never known what it was like to have so much money that you didn’t care what something cost.
Except now, hearing the emptiness in Miles’s voice when he talked about his parents, I realized I had things he didn’t. Things that money could never buy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Island
“You still want to go fishing?” I asked, rolling my shoulders and trying to get my muscles to wake up.
“Sure, it’ll be fun.” He smiled encouragingly, his expression dangerously close to something that looked like pleading puppy eyes. “Just think about how, if we actually catch any, we can have ourselves a nice dinner later tonight that isn’t just fruit.”
That did sound nice, a change after the same old same old these last few days. Also, part of me was really curious how exactly Miles planned on catching those fish and turning them into food. He didn’t seem like the type who’d know the first thing about how to do either.
“Fine,” I finally said, his eyes seemingly lighting up as I did.
With the net, lighter, tote, and the torch, we made our way down to the water and then along the stone plateaus and rocks. There was a spot not far from our cave that looked like a stone beach enclosed between two cliffs. Following the stones, you could get to the jungle or walk into the water. Hundreds of fish swam around there—my theory was that there was a reef somewhere nearby, but we didn’t check—so Miles wanted to try to fish there.
“So, are you going to help me or just stand around?” Miles asked, net in hand.
“Seeing as you were so keen on fishing, I’ll let you have the honors while I go find coconuts,” I said. “There is a tree nearby if I remember correctly. And then maybe also some firewood.”
“Stay close enough so we can hear each other, at least if one of us screams or something.”
“Are you scared something might happen to me?” I asked him, teasingly.
“Obviously.”
&
nbsp; While Miles tried to figure out how exactly he planned on catching any fish, I moved inland. I climbed from rock to rock until I reached the tiny bit of sand that connected the stone beach with the jungle.
First, I collected some wood for a fire, a nicely mind-numbing task. It was a pleasant day. The sky was still marked by wispy clouds, far more of them now than yesterday, the temperature warm. There was a nice breeze, stronger than the previous day’s, indicating that what Miles had said was probably right. A storm was slowly approaching.
My hair was losing its color thanks to the ocean and the sun. The strong turquoise was fading and revealing the true color. It’d been years since I saw it last, at least for more than a few minutes between stripping an old color and applying the new one.
Once I had a big pile of wood stacked up at the beach, I started my second task. I tried to remember where, exactly, that coconut tree was. Walking to the right, I found nothing, so I turned around and wandered to the left.
Now that I thought about it, the fact that coconuts even grew on the island—didn’t that mean we weren’t anywhere even close to Europe? It was just another weird thing to add to our steadily growing list of things that didn’t fit together, that painted our entire situation in even darker colors. If the plane never flew, how did we really get here, and where the hell even were we? What was the point of all of this? Was Briola behind this? No, that seemed unlikely. It would’ve been too obvious, considering how many people knew we’d go on this trip. But who else then?
Finally, I spotted the coconut tree. It wasn’t as tall as the other trees around it. Loads of coconuts crowded its branches, green and ready to be picked. Walking closer to it I noticed a few coconuts lying on the ground. I guessed that solved at least one of my problems. What a lucky girl I was.
I picked them up and returned to the stone beach so that I could see Miles, watch him as he failed, and laugh at him.
“Any luck yet?” I called out to him after I sat down on a bigger rock. It probably wasn’t my brightest idea to yell, but it was too late now. We’d be fine.
He cursed and almost slipped the second I called out to him. With a slightly angry, or maybe frustrated, look on his face, he turned around. “Not yet,” he called back. “You?”
“Not yet.”
Looking at my pile, I wondered how I was supposed to get them open, and if it was even possible to do it nicely and not in a messy and totally inefficient way. I guessed my only option was try and repeat until I managed to do it. There were more than enough of them around.
After way more time than it would have taken me if I had a laptop, wifi, and YouTube tutorials, I found a way to get those coconuts open without spilling all the juice. I placed the nut between two bigger rocks, put a smaller cylindrical stone on it, then smashed down a bigger, heavier rock onto the stone until it cracked open the skin and shell and thus created an opening. It was a tiring procedure, which caused me to sweat, but I didn’t care. At least I could say I managed to open a coconut entirely on my own without any help, which had to count for something.
“Aha!” Miles called out. I turned to see him raise the net with two fish trapped inside of it into the air like a trophy. “I got it!”
“I’m proud of you!” I couldn’t help but smile a little to myself. Maybe we were not entirely failures when it came to surviving in nature, or maybe that was just my hopes speaking, wishing we would make it and get home somehow. Wishing that someone might come and take us away, take us home. But considering the pit of death, the abandoned camp, and the plane that never flew, I’d say our chances were slim to none, leaning more toward none.
But today wasn’t about that.
…
While I sat farther back in our cave and tried to cut our fruit into squares—not easy when you lacked a proper knife, cutting board, and plates—Miles tried to set up a way to grill the fish over our fire. So far, two of his constructions caught fire. Lucky number three?
On the beach I had found two relatively flat stones we could use as plates. I tried to arrange the cut-up mangos, papayas and passion fruit—ten points to me for finding them—nicely on our stone plates, wanting to mimic the way food got served in five-star restaurants, and wondered why I was putting so much effort into this. It was only a meal. But somehow it felt special, different, like something big was coming, I just didn’t know what.
Once I was done, I carried the plates over to Miles so he could place the fish on them once they were cooked. Then I returned to the cave and crouched down next to my pile of clothes. Somewhere at the bottom of it, I found my dress.
I looked over my shoulder at Miles. His back was toward me, his head slightly turned toward his right, and he poked around in the fire with a stick. I turned away, pulled my shirt over my head, and then put on the dress. Next, I slipped out of my shorts. The fabric of the dress was light, frilly, and way more girly than my usual ones. It wasn’t even black, but almost royal blue. It complemented my hair nicely. At least, it did while it was still turquoise. It was sleeveless, had a V-shaped neckline, and fell about an inch above my knees.
I considered putting on some makeup as well, but quickly decided against it since it would melt off of my face in like ten minutes and I’d look like a hot mess. Not an option, even if that was normally Miles’s type.
Which was maybe something I should have considered before I put on this stupid dress.
“Almost done,” he called out.
“Me, too,” I said.
He turned around to look at me. His eyes widened, barely noticeably. I braced myself for laughter or a snide comment, but neither happened.
“Wow,” he finally said. “You look… You look good.”
“You blushing?” I asked.
Even if someone wasn’t, just saying that they were almost always made them blush. And on cue, a flash of red burst onto his cheeks.
“Could you watch the fish for a second?”
“Sure,” I said, forcing myself not to laugh.
He got up and disappeared into our cave. I knelt down next to the fire, watched the flames, and turned the fish from side to side every once in a while. How exactly he’d managed to roughly fillet them, if you could even call it that, was honestly a mystery to me. I wondered what Miles was doing, wanted to turn my head and have a look, but didn’t.
Miles reappeared next to me. I got up to give him space to get the fish off of his grilling contraption. As I stepped aside, I finally looked at him. His raven hair was a mess atop his head making him look like he just rolled out of bed, a tiny smile rested on his lips and his eyes seemed as golden as ever. He’d changed his clothes, just like I had, and now wore a white dress shirt with the two top buttons undone and black pants that made me wonder how he wasn’t boiling in them. He looked good; there was no other way to put it.
With our plates of fruit and fish, we sat down on the edge of our balcony, our legs hanging off of it.
“The fish is really good,” I said between bites. “Well done.”
“Thanks,” he said, proudly, and smiled.
After we were done, Miles lent me a hand so I could get up. I walked back into our cave and used my coconut method to open two. Once that was done I dug up the flask we found with the pilot and poured a little of it into each of the coconuts. Cocktails were not really something we could make, so that was as good as it got.
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any straws or tiny umbrellas,” I said once I was back at the edge of the balcony. Miles turned around and chuckled when I handed him his coconut.
“Are you trying to get us drunk?” he asked after I sat back down next to him.
“Maybe.” I smirked. He lightly shook his head.
To my own surprise, my mix was quite tasty, despite the fact that I was not that big of a fan of alcohol.
“I have two questions,” Miles said at some point.
“Shoot.”
“Question number one: why do you have a triskelion tattoo on your back?” I frown
ed at his question. I didn’t think he noticed it, didn’t think he cared because he hadn’t brought it up sooner. “Did you watch too much Teen Wolf or something?”
“I could ask you the same, seeing as you know that they are mentioned in the show,” I pointed out smugly.
“I…might have watched an episode or two.”
“An episode or two, sure,” I teased and nudged his shoulder with mine. “I have it tattooed as a reminder. I know, how cliché.”
“A reminder of what?” He actually sounded curious, not acted but real, honest curiosity.
“Each one of the spirals stands for something else,” I explained. “Different cultures see something different in them. For me, personally, they stand for the past, present and future. With the tattoo I remind myself to learn out of the past, apply it to the present and benefit from it in the future. Each action has an effect on your life, and I want to remind myself to make the best out of it. Though, it also applies to the three higher trainings, as my father explained once. There’s discipline, meditation, and wisdom. All equally important.”
“That is much deeper than I thought your answer would be,” Miles said and looked surprised. “I’m impressed.”
“Why? Did you think I’m some shallow idiot with a tattoo inspired by a TV show because she finds the actor who has it sexy?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t think you’re shallow, nor do I think you are an idiot. I think you’re incredibly smart. You just don’t always show it. You act like you’re all tough and don’t care about what others think, but I think you care much more than you let on, and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I asked, slightly confused. Sometimes he had this slightly weird way of talking that made it really hard to determine whether he meant what he said in a positive or negative way.