The southeast side of the island was almost entirely beaches. They were beautiful white sandy shores with an array of scattered shells of all shapes and sizes. The waves – their progress slowed by the reef which lay about a hundred yards off shore – lapped soothingly against the sand, sometimes rustling the shells and clinking them together softly. Between the reef and the shore, the waters were relatively calm, the ocean’s energy being absorbed by a combination of the islands across from us acting as a sort of barrier and from the reef itself.
The island’s southernmost shore wasn’t much to see, just a little sandy edge that skirted the end of the island. There was a nice coconut grove in this area and some indigenous plants and shrubbery. The elevation at this point was maybe only a couple feet above sea level, and we noticed driftwood and other trash and debris that had been pushed up close to where the coconut trees grew, indicating that when storms blew through, much of this part of the island was likely under water.
We continued our exploration, moving around to the center of the horseshoe that connected the two sides of the island and that stopped the lagoon from pouring through to the other side of the sea. This section was comprised mostly of sand and was sprinkled with a few rocks, shells, and a couple scrubby bushes. At its lowest point, almost directly in its center, it appeared that a low channel had been cut, but was currently dry. Again, we assumed that during storms, this area was likely submerged, and water from the lagoon flowed through this stream bed and out the west end of the island which was mostly rocks that jutted their way out into the ocean, exposing themselves above the waves for several feet before the ocean eventually swallowed them up.
The north side of the island sat at a higher elevation. We could tell by the increased amount of vegetation – as well as the lack of storm debris – that this would prove a better spot for us to set up camp.
Like the south end of the island, the northern portion of the horseshoe facing east was almost completely sandy shores. The rest of this side was sprinkled with a nice population of palms and coconut trees that we hoped would provide us with the wood and shelter we’d need to establish a fixed campsite here.
Cashmere seemed the most curious of all at our new digs. We watched as she chased tiny albino crabs that scuttled across the sand and pounced as they darted for their holes, sometimes successfully catching her prize, sometimes winding up with nothing more than a nose full of sand at which point she’d twitch and sneeze. Casually ignoring the faux pas, she’d fall over and roll in the sand, then pause and spring to her feet, shaking herself clean to make another attack or sniff a fallen coconut, batting at it with a paw.
That night, we again slept aboard ship. We left the portholes open and while the air was balmy even at night, we found the sounds of the ocean and the accompanying breeze deeply soothing. Even I found myself sleeping soundly without the constant worry and concern with which my brain had been so burdened in the year leading to our arrival.
The following day, we began work in earnest on our new island home.
CHAPTER 20
It took a little bit longer than Ava had initially planned to get the mansion up to her standards. Repairing the library wall from the rocket blast and replacing all the bloodstained wood flooring in the library added almost another month to the rehab timeline she had in place to renovate her lovely 1920s Mediterranean-style architectural masterpiece.
It didn’t matter much to her now though. She was the queen of Miami. She had the time and the resources to put a little more effort into a project like this. This new world needed people who showed some appreciation for effort and craftsmanship it’d taken to construct such works of art, and Ava was one of those people.
Meanwhile, she was quickly finding that things were progressing nicely in the rule of her kingdom and that the generals she’d put in place to manage her city state – including Bushy, who had finally recovered from the injury he suffered at the warehouse takedown – were performing their roles successfully.
The economy in the Miami metro area was starting to come together, crime rates had leveled off and were even beginning to drop, and Ava had begun to think about things like a more formalized governing structure, setting up schools for the remaining children of the city, and contemplating the possibility of eventually getting certain utilities and public services up and running again. But those were all things that would take time and considerable planning. And while Ava was up for the task, she had other issues on her plate. Recently, she’d heard there was a group of individuals moving to organize the Fort Lauderdale area, and that could mean trouble for her in the future.
And so she lounged, pondering these things, her elbows propping her up so that she could look out across the water as she bathed her beautifully bronzed body on the beach of her estate. The waves danced playfully on the ocean before her, shimmering in the sun.
She took a long drink of her margarita, swallowed, and set her glass back down in the sand. Then she took a deep breath and tilted her head back, closing her eyes and letting the problems of the future temporarily slip away. For right now, she was content to take a little time for herself. She opened her eyes, glancing at the toned and fit bodies of the two men, one on either side of her, and gave an almost imperceptible smile. Jake had been right. She couldn’t just be content to enjoy what they had. She wanted more.
One of the men noticed her look and rolled over to tend to her. She let him play his fingers over and across her well-oiled body as he massaged her gently. She thought of Gonzalo and then forced his image aside. Without Jake, and even without Gonzalo, Ava was determined to do her best to be content and enjoy what she had. It was time to consolidate her position in Miami and enjoy life as a single girl again…at least for a little while.
CHAPTER 21
A month after arriving to our island paradise, we’d accomplished most of the goals we’d set forth for ourselves upon arrival. Of course, like settling into any new home, there were still little things on the to-do list that weren’t necessarily immediate concerns but that we still wanted to cross off eventually.
Items like food and water collection remained a constant presence at the top of our list. The supplies we’d brought with us were holding out reasonably well, and we kept some of our reserves aboard the yacht as a backup against a storm sweeping in and damaging our stocks stored upon the island. However, we’d been able to supplement our food with a diet heavy in seafood; and since Sharron wasn’t opposed to eating the items we pulled from the sea, everyone was pretty satisfied with their overall caloric intake and the variety of our menu.
The fishing in the area was great. We’d even caught a few small sharks. Added to our diet of fish were an assortment of crab, the occasional octopus, and even some conch. In the month we’d lived as island dwellers, we’d becoming quite adept at finding, catching, and preparing this variety of culinary options, as well as discovering ways to incorporate them into a number of dishes, soups and stews. Conch chowder was a real crowd pleaser as was crab legs and scrambled eggs with crab.
Speaking of scrambled eggs, the livestock we’d brought with us was doing surprisingly well. We’d quickly realized that the goats would eat just about anything and everything if we allowed them to roam free, and they were particularly hard to catch when we wanted to try to milk the females. Therefore, we’d built a pen to house them on the south end of the island in an attempt to keep them out of our hair.
The rabbits were as prolific as expected and made for a nice source of protein when the menu called for it. And the chickens, while not as productive as we’d hoped in supplying us with eggs, were easy to maintain as we allowed them to roam the island freely since there were no predators to threaten them. They didn’t take much work to keep, and the most difficult aspect in maintaining them was finding the eggs they laid. We’d managed to collect about a dozen in the month since we’d landed. The kids – who were charged with the regular feeding and care of the animals – found this an intriguing and e
xiting part of their role as caretakers. The search for eggs became a sort of ever-present Easter egg hunt in which they were constantly trying to outdo one another. So far, the score sat at eight eggs for Paul, six eggs for Sarah, and one for Jason, a find that came largely by accident as our sweet little guy thought it was an especially interesting looking seashell he’d found in the weeds as opposed to an actual chicken egg.
Water was another constant concern. While we still had a good supply of several hundred gallons aboard the yacht from which to draw if we had to, we did our best to hold that in reserve whenever possible. We’d collected some potable water from rainstorms and we’d found that we could make some seawater drinkable through a sort of evaporation contraption we’d built using some of the roll of plastic sheeting we’d brought with us, but it wasn’t always enough for everyone.
However, we’d also learned that if we dug down deep enough in the sandy channel that ran between the lagoon and the other side of the island, we began to get sand-filtered water that was drinkable. We turned this into a sort of well, ringing it with a thatched fence to keep the chickens and any other little wildlife from falling into it, potentially contaminating it in the process. Then we placed a cover Sharron had woven from palm fronds atop it to keep out debris or bird droppings as they flew overhead. We found that this worked quite well as a regular water source, at least until the first big storm obliterated our contraption, sweeping away the fencing and filling in our hole. But it was easy enough to re-dig, and Sharron had the thatched fencing replaced within a day.
And while we could have slept aboard the yacht, and did so occasionally in storms or bad weather, we chose to spend most of our time – both day and night – on the island. We’d constructed a nice little tiki hut with raised floor in which about four people could comfortably sleep. Plus, we had two tents that provided ample shelter for the rest of us. Sometimes the couples would take turns having “private evenings” aboard the yacht. Even dad and Emily would take a turn occasionally. These breaks served as little mini-vacations where we could appreciate the comfort of sleeping in a real bed again. In the morning, we would rise, eat breakfast, lounge and read onboard for an hour or two and then dive off the yacht into the crystal-clear waters of the lagoon for our morning baths before swimming to shore.
At night, we’d sit around the campfire after dinner and tell stories or talk about the day’s events. The kids would discuss their play plans for the upcoming day, and the adults might mention a project they needed help with or one they were thinking about for the future.
I’d often take this time to massage Claire’s feet to keep the circulation to these areas moving in hopes of staving off any ill-affects of her diabetes. She’d been doing wonderfully at keeping things in check with her blood sugars. Even then, it was a constant battle for Claire to regulate her diabetes, and eventually, no matter how well she did, we’d need more supplies for her. I knew we’d have to go back to Miami. I was just hoping that we could stick it out on our island home long enough for things to cool down and become more organized back on the mainland. I prayed that given time, the rest of the world would find some semblance of order and eventually even get back to a point where at least a basic level of health and medical services were again available. But I think both Claire and I were realistic regarding the future and understood that there were no guarantees.
As I stood on our northernmost beach one late afternoon working through a list in my head that included taking food and supply inventory, making some repairs to our tiki hut, having Claire give me an update on her insulin supply, and checking on how much sunscreen and bug repellent we had left, I took a moment to gaze around me.
In the distance, I saw Claire and Jason at the water’s edge. Claire was bent at the waist, holding Jason’s hand as he poked at a shell with a stick. I saw Paul and Sarah swimming just off shore, wrestling playfully as they tried to dunk one another below the smooth, almost imperceptible waves. I saw Will and Sharron walking hand in hand along the shoreline, keeping an eye on their children but giving them the freedom to play on their own. I saw dad and Emily sitting together on a palm that grew at an angle from where the coconut grove met with the beach. They were reading together and holding hands.
As I stood taking in this scene of tranquility, I tried to clear my head of my mental list to absorb it all. I thought back to Will’s words aboard the yacht on our way to the island about trying harder to living in the here and now. I realized that as much as I might work to plan and organize everything, I couldn’t. I’d never be able to control everything.
I continued to gaze around me at the island paradise in which we’d settled. I looked at the shimmering ocean waves, the swaying tops of the palms, the family I loved gathered here with me, living together, loving one another; and I listened to the soothing sound of the surf gently shuffling shells along the shoreline.
That’s when it hit me.
I had it all and I hadn’t even realized it. We had plenty of supplies, many of which were sustainable here on the island. I had no pressures of a job or career. I didn’t have to deal with the harrowing commute in to work each day and sit in a cubicle toiling away at the daily grind. We’d survived not just the worst pandemic the world had ever seen, but the ensuing chaos it’d inflicted upon society and civilization.
Each day was now a gift to be enjoyed in full with the people I loved.
That was my job.
Will had been right; I needed to learn to live more in the moment.
Were things perfect? No, of course not. Would they ever be perfect…anywhere…in any situation? No.
I knew that we’d have to go back eventually. For as much as we loved it here, would it be the best long-term situation for the kids? Would we want to seclude them here without friends, without peers, without lives and loves of their own?
Sure, it was an island paradise now, but eventually, as they grew older, they’d want to meet friends, go on dates, and find spouses. This would then become a prison to them. A tropical prison, but a prison nonetheless.
But right now, it was time to do my best to live here, in the moment, and focus purely on the things – the people – that were most important to me.
I walked over to where Claire and Jason stood. There, I kissed my lovely wife and knelt beside my son to inspect a shell as the luke-warm waters of the Caribbean washed up around our ankles.
One day we’d have to go back, but that day was not today.
ASCENSION: THE SYSTEMIC SERIES Page 21