by Marien Dore
I was glad his back was to me as he slowly moved. I didn’t want him to see my face or the blood that I felt seeping through the shirt on my back. I would be fine, and the last thing I wanted was his sympathy.
He turned to me and frowned. “We need to find a source of fresh water. That is our first priority.” At least he was actively thinking. I didn’t know how to after what just happened, though I was trying.
I nodded, following his lead towards the woods. Not a few steps later, I felt myself falling to the ground. Unable to stop myself, I landed on my stomach. I tried getting up before he saw my back but it was too late as I heard him running back to me. A shadow loomed over me, and I swiftly tried moving. That made the pain much worse to where I let out a very loud grunt.
“No, don’t touch it. I’m fine and can take care of it,” I groaned after my noisy grunt and whimper settled.
He was kneeling next to me in a second. I felt his hands lightly graze over the stain on my back. Then, I felt him take fistfuls of my shirt, tearing the fabric on my back in half and leaving my bloody back bare.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
He stayed silent, and I realized he wasn’t looking at the huge and fresh cut that somehow got there. He must have seen the ugly scars that came from my father’s hand. I was hoping that the blood would cover it, but I’m sure it didn’t.
Of course, the wind just had to pick up at the moment. The sand flew up and managed to enter the cut, making me groan loudly. Mr. Rush must have realized the real problem here. The next thing that happened was he helped me to my feet. I held what was left of my shirt against my chest so it wouldn’t fall off. He managed to guide me into the first few trees of the forest and had me lay back down on my stomach, this time in the long grass. He knelt at my side and brushed his hand lightly on my back.
I breathed in sharply, and he instantly pulled back. I saw he pulled the white shirt he was wearing off and ripped it, taking a piece of it. Before he did what I predicted and pressed it against my cut, he left my side quickly and headed back towards the water. It only took a second until he was back and kneeling at my side. When he pressed the fabric against the cut, I knew what he did. He soaked that strip of his shirt in the ocean.
It made me hiss because it stung. Then I hissed for a whole other reason because he applied more pressure. “Sorry,” he sighed. “It’s a long and deep cut. Plus there is a lot of blood. We need to get it cleaned.”
He stroked my back with his shirt, absorbing most of the blood. He pressed it harder into my back and made me cringe more. And it wasn’t just the cut that made me do that. Oh no… that’s just where most of the pain was. My whole body still felt shattered.
“Ah! Fuck! Fuck,” I groaned loudly, the pain spreading over me more.
“Shhh. It’s alright. I need to apply pressure.”
I bit my tongue as he kept pressing. I felt the tickle in my veins that the pressure of his hands caused; it was not pleasant. It not only burned but made my whole body sting in response. It went on like that for a while until he asked in a whisper, “What happened to you, Janice?” He was obviously referring to the lashes that aged into scars on my back.
“It isn’t important.”
“Your father,” he stated. It wasn’t a question - and he knew a question wasn’t necessary by my silent response.
“Do you know how I got that cut today?” I asked.
He sighed. “I got us out of the plane and was able to get us up in time. The plane crashed near the shore, and that’s how we made it in time to the surface. But I pulled you out the front windows where the grass actually broke. I imagine you got caught by the broken glass. In fact, that was probably it since all I cared about was getting us out of there as soon as possible. I didn’t care about taking time avoiding glass.”
I nodded. “You did the right thing. If you bothered with trying to avoid it, it would have wasted time, and we might not have made it.”
He finally stopped with wiping my back and leaned forward, laying on his stomach too next to me. I could see him as he spoke to me. My eyes though were instantly drawn to his messy hair. I couldn’t get over how different he looked! He was dirty, hurt, messy, and covered in sweat and sand. The perfect looking man was no longer present. And not just physically either. My eyes snapped up to his as he spoke. There was so much there…
“Tonight, you’re going to have to sleep on your stomach. First, we need to wash it out in the water,” he said, gesturing towards the ocean. “There is still sand and dirt in it, and this isn’t doing the trick.”
After he wiped up what was on my back, he stood up and helped me up with him. He guided me back towards the active water to wash my cut out as I still held the front of my shirt there. And as he guided my painful body, it was the first time I realized that my feet burned with the heat. I was no longer wearing my sandals. Great.
I bent my head down so I didn’t have to meet his eyes as we walked into the water. I didn’t like him tending to me like this, let alone being around me right now. Something traumatic happened to us, and we will need time to process it. It would be best if we weren’t around each other for that.
He had me slowly kneel down in the water. His torn shirt he soaked up my back with, he now rinsed. He then applied it to my cut again. And oh boy, it stung like a bitch. I didn’t know how much more pain I could endure in front of him while staying strong and not cry. Maybe talking could help.
“We aren’t getting out of here, are we?” I asked him from where I was kneeling. His hand and the water on my back made me shudder and groan loudly.
He frowned. “We will get out of here. It just might be awhile.”
“Can we last that long?”
He answered me sternly. “Of course, we can.”
He obviously didn’t want to face what happened yet. He was right down to business, and it was not natural. Where was the shock? Where was the confusion and tears about this? He avoided it, but to be fair, I couldn’t get past the point of shock either.
“Mr. Rush?” I sighed softly in defeat, staring at the clear water I was kneeling in. I needed more to block out the pressure as he soaked my back.
“Yeah?” he mumbled, focusing on my lower back.
“Are you scared?”
He paused in washing my cut out more with the water. I waited for what seemed to be a little too long until he finally gave me an answer. “No. We’re going to be fine,” he spoke simply. He sounded like the stone man I knew him to be. His voice lightened, though. “I actually predict we will be out of here in no time. We’ll make an SOS sign in the sand. They will be looking for us, and not to mention, we are probably in the flight path of other planes.”
It sounded like something I could trust, but his long pause didn’t convince me of anything. It did push my hopes up to a better level I suppose.
“You sure you want to do that now? Make a sign in the sand?” I asked in a daze, gripping the fabric more to my chest. “We are both hurt.”
“I’ll do it. Don’t worry about it,” he said blankly, finishing up. He whipped the damn fabric up to the dry sand as he stood. “Just uh, relax for a minute.”
I was surprised by his idea and curious as to how he was going to make this work. He sure showed determination, though. I stood up slowly with a wince, watching him.
Mr. Rush walked further out in the shallow water. It didn’t take long for him to find what he wanted in the water. He started to carry back two big rocks at a time, each one taking the space of one of his arms. They were big enough to see from the sky, and that’s all I needed to know.
Watching him, and seeing his rough struggle with how hurt he was too, I knew I couldn’t just stand there. I didn’t like being weak, and I should really toughen up. Plus, writing SOS with massive rocks across the length of the beach would be a hard, tiring, and long task by yourself.
Ignoring the pain that shot up my back, I continued covering my chest with the remnants of my shirt. Then I immediatel
y dropped it, exposing myself in only a white bra. I guess it would help build up my courage. The real reason though I did it was because we were going to be here for a while together. We had to be comfortable around each other. I had no other clothes so I couldn’t walk around holding a ripped up shirt to me day and night.
I walked through the shore and towards where Mr. Rush was, his back to me as he continued looking for decent sized rocks. Being conscious of my body helped with forgetting my pain. It also helped trying to appear as calm and determined as I could when he would see me. I felt my arms ache with the need to cover myself, but I didn’t. My eyes searched him, his smooth and strong back making my cheeks heat. Then, a moment later, I met his eyes when he turned towards where I slowly walked.
I took unexpected satisfaction that his eyes nearly popped out at me. He flushed and looked down instantly. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you. I am not weak, and I should get used to this,” I said, not even wanting to think about the subject of our conversation. I didn’t deserve to think about it. This was pathetic compared to those whose last moments were spent crashing into the ocean.
His eyes meet mine, and he said, “You are going to hurt yourself, lifting huge rocks and carrying them.”
“Are you saying I’m not capable?”
“No, that isn’t—”
“Good then,” I cut him off with a sigh. I just didn’t want him doing all this work when he was hurt too. And apparently distracted. His eyes couldn’t help it as they looked down my body. “Staring again I see,” I smirked.
Those eyes of his snapped up. He spoke in an annoyed voice. “It is not my fault you’re not wearing a shirt.”
Trying to decipher his words, I came to the conclusion it was a compliment. “It is actually. You could have just lifted my shirt over my head to look at the cut. But no, you ripped it off. I didn’t think we were at that stage,” I joked.
He sighed. “Well, sorry that seeing you hurt and bleeding that badly made me a little panicked.” He shook his head and said, “Fine, you can help. I’m still on the first S. If you are in a lot of pain, though, tell me.”
I nodded and looked up at the beach from where we stood in the water, seeing the S. It was huge and started at the top of the beach and looked like it would continue until it was close to the water.
Mr. Rush got back to work, finding one or two big rocks in the water at a time and filling his arms with its size. I don’t know how he did it or how I could. I felt the pain just walking down the beach. This would be hell.
I bent down to grab a big rock I saw and nearly fell. It hurt badly, but I sucked it up and lifted it. Mr. Rush was eyeing my progress and my face. Probably to see whether I was showing pain or not.
I have no clue how I managed to do it without collapsing, but I did. I blocked all my pain out by the time we were done with the first giant S.
We continued for a while, and when we were on the last S, I stopped paying attention and set myself on autopilot as I started thinking. This could actually be a good thing. I wasn’t home, wasn’t with my dad and working as his little slave. I didn’t need to worry about money or ever seeing him or my brother again. I could be free. But Mr. Rush actually had a life worth returning to, I’m sure.
I was distracted, not really seeing my work in front of me. That’s why my thoughts abruptly changed. I didn’t realize it until my hands came up with another rock from the water. But it wasn’t a rock. A rock typically doesn’t have 100 plus pounds attached to it.
In my hands… there was a head with wet blonde hair wrapped in my fingers. It was attached to a body still under the water. I felt ready to jump out of my skin.
I shrieked and jumped back, dropping the head and body back in the water as I backed away as fast as I could. Physical pain didn’t exist, just mental and emotional. I never took my eyes off the body floating there. I ended up falling on my ass in the water, propping myself up with my elbows in the sand. Half my body was under, but as long as my eyes were above, they were not leaving the dead body.
I couldn’t even attend to the water splashing behind me in fury. Mr. Rush came into my view in a flash, dropping in front of me in the water. He forced his grip on me, taking me and making me turn around and away from it.
We sat in the water, him holding me to hide it from view. All I could do was breathe hard. The memory flashed by in my head again of finding my mom dead. This reminded me so well of that.
Mr. Rush seemed to notice my quick silence. “Are you okay?”
I chuckled. “That is all you ever say to me.”
I knew me laughing at this moment was a red flag. He rose with me, keeping my eyes and self ahead in the other direction. He did so by holding my face in his hands. He needed me to look at him while he was also keeping me from looking behind me at the body. “How is this funny to you?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It makes me not think if I brush it away.”
“What? That…” He couldn’t finish as he stared at me, trailing off. Finally, he whispered, “This happened before, didn’t it? Or something like it?”
I looked down from his pretty, pained eyes and only nodded. He was good at figuring me out, but he didn’t push. Just stared at me and my face between his palms. He shook his head and looked down. Then he let go, only to slowly make his way back to the body.
The guy was shaking as I walked with him. My mind was numbing at this point. Seeing the body… it hurt, but I was in a state that couldn’t process that hurt. I had no idea what kind of shape his mind was in right now. He never had anything like this happen to him. I could see it from the reaction he gave when we stopped over the body.
“Who is it?” he asked in a light whisper.
“The flight attendant. She wasn’t strapped in,” I remembered.
Her face was down and even if it weren't, it still would have been hard to recognize her. Her face, body, and everything… it was awful and distorted. Her skin was white as snow, and her clothes were torn. Yet I recognized her somehow. I hated myself for not even flinching as my gaze rested on the body.
Mr. Rush spoke in a voice, not of a perfect man. More like one of a scared little boy. “We should move her. She at least deserves that, don’t you think?”
I nodded, and when Mr. Rush didn’t proceed in getting her back to shore, I gulped, averted my eyes, and walked to where her arms were floating. I grabbed them, dragging her body through the water towards the shore. He realized what I was doing and looked sick, but he wouldn’t let me do that by myself.
He grabbed her ankles when we reached the shore. My back protested violently, the salt water burning despite the fact that it helped. I ignored the pain until we laid her on the beach.
We stood and looked down at her. “I hate to just leave her here,” I said.
“I know. But we need to leave after we finish with the rocks. Otherwise, we could end up like her. We need to find fresh water and shelter.”
I nodded, knowing that was the truth. Before we could proceed on in what he suggested, something caught my eye. Something peaked out from her uniform’s pocket. I knelt next to the body and reached over her, grabbing the paper from her pocket. It was a photo of a little boy. I flipped it over, and it said, ‘Tommy at 6 years.’ He wore a huge grin as he sat on what I assumed to be his father’s lap. The dad looked just as happy, his arms wrapped around his son.
It was enough to assume that this boy in the picture was her son. I felt a tear shed from my eye as I realized he would never see his mother again. Even though I saw my mother dead, I could at least visit her at the cemetery. This boy would have no answer as to what happened to his mom or her remains. And that would go for everyone else that died on that plane. Their families would have no answers either if we are not found.
Mr. Rush noticed I was close to breaking. I swallowed it back, but he still saw what this did to me. I tucked the picture back into her pocket and stood along with him.
I stared dow
n at the poor woman. “Let’s get back to work then we can go,” I said as I turned and walked swiftly back to the ocean where I continued to collect the big rocks and hauled them up the beach. Mr. Rush said nothing as he came back and helped me until the last S was finished. We stood back and looked at it. It would be our hope.
I reluctantly looked back at the body, though. We weren’t leaving her like that. I strode towards the trees and brush with purpose. I made up my mind. We weren’t done here on the beach yet.
“Janice?”
I stopped in front of some weird looking bushes that had huge leaves, leaves that were maybe three or four feet long. Mr. Rush stopped beside me, and I explained, “I am not leaving her like that.”
“We have to. We need to find fresh water and shelter.”
“We owe it to that boy!” That boy would go through hell. If we ever made it out of this place, I would find him. Find that boy and his father and assure them that she was safe now on this island. That we took care of her body.
He reluctantly nodded and knew what to do when he looked up at the huge leaves. He grabbed one of the leaves and peeled it back until it was no longer a part of the bush.
We ended up making a pile of leaves. Along with that, I headed towards the tall grass where I pulled the long blades out and returned. We rolled each of the leaves up and used the thick, strong grass to tie it together (which shockingly did work). When half of the mat was done, he carried the rest down to the beach.
We set the body on the mat of bound leaves. Mr. Rush focused with all he had to not look at the body as we continued to work around it, binding more leaves to the ones she was lying on. We kept adding to it, until it wrapped up and all around her.
Her entire body was wrapped in the blanket of leaves. She was no longer visible. We ended up carefully picking her up and the foliage surrounding her, laying her under a palm tree where the wooded area started to crowd together.
I knelt next to the body that was bound in the center of the leaves. Mr. Rush stood behind me as I stared at the leaves. I sat there for a while until he said, “We need to get going.”