by Kate Johnson
“Any idea where we are?” Eliza said. She had one arm over her face.
The prevailing currents tended to push north, which was the vague direction the compass had shown whenever he’d checked it. But without knowing where they’d jumped off the boat, it was hard to pinpoint where they were. “Maybe the Bahamas.”
“Oh. That’s good, isn’t it? They’re mostly inhabited islands.”
“Uh. Well, yes. But not exactly heavily.” There were thousands of uninhabited atolls and cays all over the Caribbean, although this looked a bit too big to be one of those. But Xavier had to admit that a beach this perfect would probably have been commercialised if it was in any way accessible. The coral protected it from the sea, and he had to assume there was something keeping people from getting there by land. Maybe swamps or mud flats.
“So it could be a while before anyone finds us.” She sounded dreamy. Obviously, getting to land was synonymous with being rescued in her mind. “That’s okay. I can work on my tan.”
“Okay.” Xavier got to his feet and stood over her. “You need to get out of the sun.”
“Rather hinders the tan,” she said, eyes closed.
“Well, so will heatstroke. You’re dehydrated. We both are.” He unfastened the bag and got out one of their precious water sachets and drank some before handing it to her. “Drink that carefully. Don’t spill any.” There had to be a source of fresh water around here somewhere.
“Are there coconut trees?”
He peered at the cluster of trees at the south edge of the island. “I think so…”
“Then we drink coconut water. We can eat the coconuts, too.”
“That’s not going to sustain us very—”
“Long enough to think about what to do next.” She sat up and stretched. “Come on. Let’s go and retrieve that raft before it gets any more damaged, and then we start finding food and water.” She rolled to her feet, her back covered in sand. “Ooh, isn’t this fun!”
Xavier stared at her. “Did you drink any saltwater?”
“No, of course not.”
“So you’re just naturally insane.”
She gave him a chiding look. “A positive attitude looks good on everyone.”
She began wading out into the water. Xavier watched her, shaking his head, and then he sighed and followed.
Oh God, this is terrible, we’re stuck on a desert island with no food and water and our only method of escape is punctured, thought Eliza as she plunged into the water, hiding her face from Xavier. This is a nightmare. It’s awful. And it’s all my stupid fault for sneaking out to a bloody party.
She’d just wanted to not be a princess for a day. Not even a day, just an evening. Nice going, Eliza, you really got what you wished for.
She plunged under the water, pretended the salt was the reason she had to rub her eyes, then continued out to the reef. The water wasn’t terribly deep here, but it was too deep to stand. She trod water as she waited for Xavier to catch up to her, pondering what to do.
“It’s stuck on at least one point there,” she said, gesturing. “I’m not sure climbing up the coral is going to be a good idea.”
“Not in your outfit,” he said, and Eliza resisted the temptation to cross her arms over herself. He was wearing less, when you thought about it. “Coral rips through skin, and we barely have a Band-aid.”
“But we do have clothes. What do we need, something to protect our hands and feet? I’ll go back and get them,” she volunteered, and swam away before he could stop her.
It felt good to be in the water, especially this calm, clear lagoon. She could almost pretend she was in a swimming pool again. She pulled on her damp trainers and wrapped all their clothes into a bundle made of Xavier’s t-shirt. They had two garments each, one for each hand. More if they started tearing them, but Eliza wasn’t willing to sacrifice the only clothes she had at this early stage. The sun was a demon, and she didn’t exactly have a large bottle of Hawaiian Tropics waiting for her on the beach.
She’d been to a lot of beaches over the last couple of weeks, some of them only accessible by sea. But a beach like this, with its reef, wasn’t going to get anyone visiting by boat. The only way off it must be over land, but she could see no paths, no signs of habitation. There were protected reserves all over the Bahamas, so it was likely they’d washed up on one of them. Which might mean a marine biologist dropping by soon, or might… not.
And here she was with a man she didn’t know at all, who told her he was a cop but could be lying. He was a handsome devil under his dark stubble and scowl. Eliza had never been given any particular cause to think handsome men were as nice on the inside as they were to look at.
Telling herself to be positive, she struck out for the reef again, and appeared to succeed in convincing Xavier she wasn’t worried about their survival at all as she handed him his clothes to wrap around his hands and feet.
Thus protected, the two of them managed to climb a little, enough to see where the coral had punctured the inflatable raft. Eliza cleared it on her side, but Xavier’s took longer and she had to go over to help him, which meant her side flopped back down again.
“Hold on,” she said, and tried to balance her side in the air as he freed his.
“Be careful. Almost got it—”
Her hand, wrapped in the damp fabric of her neon t-shirt, began to slip. “Hurry up!”
“I’m working as fast as I—”
Her hand slipped, she instinctively reached forward, scraped her arm on the coral and yelped.
“Ow!”
Xavier glared at her. “I said be careful!”
“I was!” She grabbed the inflatable, he held his side aloft, and they tossed it into the lagoon.
There was still an upper ring that was unpunctured, so it floated, but Eliza didn’t expect it would be very seaworthy. The bottom had been torn in several places, way more than the little puncture kit could have managed.
She leapt off the reef and back into the water, which stung her arm like crazy.
“Did you break the skin?” Xavier asked.
She looked down at her arm, where a livid graze was already standing out. Blood oozed. Yikes. That was a bit more of a gash than she’d realised.
“A little,” she said, and flashed him a smile as she began to swim back to shore, pushing the raft ahead like a float in a pool. “It’s fine. Isn’t salt water good for cuts?”
“Only if it’s sterile.” Xavier caught up to her. “Seawater is full of crap. Let me see.”
“When we get onto land,” she said, and insisted on carrying the raft above the tide line before she let him look. She would not have him treating her like a weakling.
His face was grim as he inspected the cut. “This is… Jesus, we’ve been here less than an hour and you’re already injured.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose! It’s just a graze.”
“A graze that could get infected. Is there any coral in it?”
Eliza didn’t think the wound was that deep, but she allowed Xavier to poke and prod at it until she’d had enough and snatched her arm back.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll wrap it up with…” She had a t-shirt that she’d intended to use to keep the sun from burning her alive, and that was it. “Some leaves or something.” She turned for the treeline.
“Leaves?” Xavier said, condescension heavy in his voice. “That’s your replacement for hydrogen peroxide and a bandage? Leaves?”
“Got a better suggestion?”
Eliza pulled on her wet clothes as she considered the foliage fringing the beach. Most of the trees she could see were scrubby-looking pines, but below them were ferns and grasses of various kinds. And of course the palm trees at the far end of the beach, where she was very much hoping to find coconuts.
She set off, scanning as far as she could see for signs of human habitation. Overhead power lines, or bits of rubbish on the ground, or maybe a sign pointing to a five-star resort…
Ignoring Xavier’s scoffing, she stuck to dry ground and picked some broad, flat leaves and used a couple of her friendship bracelets to secure them around her arm. Probably, it was going to fall off soon, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. The important thing for now was that it was covered, so it didn’t get any dirt or bacteria embedded.
Eliza had watched far too many survival programs on TV to let something stupid like that happen.
Speaking of which, she must have absorbed some information from them. What were the first things they always told you? Find water first, and make sure it’s clean. Look around and see what was of use. Even if there was a five-star resort just around the corner, they were both dehydrated and the day was getting warmer. Water was becoming necessary.
Well, there were no dried-up riverbeds that gave her any clue as to a fresh water source, no handy waterfalls just begging to be drunk from, so she’d have to think more creatively.
“You know, I do have a bandana,” said Xavier, and she felt like a fool as she turned back to see him holding it out to her. He was dressed again, thank goodness, because nearly naked he was altogether too… too muscular and brown and, and… naked, for her to think properly.
“Yes, but is it clean?” she asked of the grimy-looking cloth.
“Are those leaves? For all you know they could be covered in iguana piss.”
“I’ll take that chance.” Relenting, she said, “If we can collect water and I can boil the bandanna, I’ll use it. Thank you.”
He swept an elaborate bow. “My lady honours me.”
It’s Your Royal Highness, actually. The retort came to her lips and she bit it back. No point in making things more awkward between them.
“So the way I see it, we have shelter, but we need food and water too,” said Xavier, as Eliza stood in the patchy shade of the pine trees and tried to work out what would be the best way of collecting water. She shaded her eyes and peered down to the far end of the beach, where something gathered around the edge of the shore.
That warranted investigation. Not to mention, the palm trees were down that way. She set off.
Xavier followed her, still talking. “I think the Bahamas have some blue holes, which are full of fresh water, but I have no idea how we’d find any. The mangroves are going to grow in water, obviously, but that’s not going to be drinkable. What we need—”
“—is to purify the water. Yes. By distilling it.”
“And how do we do that?”
By constructing a still, and don’t take that patronising tone with me. “Do you have anything that can start a fire?” She thought about the contents of the emergency pack. “The signalling mirror, maybe?”
Xavier grinned and fished something out of his pocket. “I’ve got a fire starter. Also a gun, but I’d rather conserve bullets.”
“Why?” Oh God, were there dangerous animals on the islands?
“Well, in case our friends from the Rosa come back.” He sobered. “Listen, Eliza. We’ve got to be sensible about this. We don’t know how far we drifted last night and where from. It’s possible they’re right behind us.”
A shiver ran over her despite the heat. “What—why did they kidnap me? You said they were drug dealers.”
Xavier looked askance. His fingers drummed on his thigh. Eventually he said, “You’re a pretty white girl. There’s a market for you in the brothels of Haiti.”
“The what?” Her voice rose to a shriek. “Haiti?”
He nodded. “Human trafficking usually goes through the Dominican Republic. A lot of girls get sold into the sex trade in Haiti. Still more go to Central and South America. A lot end up in the United States, but not usually the English-speaking ones.” He sighed. “We see a lot of it. A lot of young girls, casualties of the drugs trade.”
There was something else there, something he wasn’t telling her. “But why me? Specifically?” she probed delicately.
He shrugged. “Wrong place, wrong time. Accepted a drink from a stranger? Went out for some air? Found yourself in his car?”
“Boat,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. She’d passed out in the back of the boat, and the awful thought occurred to her that he could have done anything to her while she was unconscious.
For a moment she was horrified, and then she forced herself to remember she’d come to fully dressed. All that was missing was the money from the plastic tube around her neck. He’d even left the lid hanging there on its neon cord.
“It’s a common enough story,” said Xavier. He ran his hand through his hair, which was drying into black curls. “White man goes missing, he’s either fallen off a yacht or he’s been kidnapped for ransom. White girl goes missing? Let’s just say the ransom demands don’t come in thick and fast.”
They would have for me. Should she have played that card? No, likely they’d have taken her somewhere more secure and locked her up while they demanded ever higher sums of money from Her Majesty’s Government.
Xavier’s hand touched her shoulder. “We escaped them,” he said, and his dark brown eyes were sincere. “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”
Eliza looked up at him. He’d be more handsome if he wasn’t so swarthy with beard. A shave and a haircut and he’d be quite good looking. Much better than Luis, anyway.
Luis can’t hurt you now. That was small comfort, out here in the middle of nowhere with a stranger. Sure, he’d given her a knife, but he had a much bigger one, and a gun too. And even unarmed, he was a big guy. If he decided to overpower her there wouldn’t be much she could do about it.
“Do you ever think it’s unfair that if a man leaves a party with a strange woman, the worst thing that’ll happen to him is a hangover?” she asked glumly.
“Frequently,” said Xavier, and removed his hand. “Okay. Where were we. Water?”
At the far end of the beach the collection of debris turned out to be shells, dead coral and rubbish, which cheered her right up.
“Such a mess,” Xavier said, shaking his head. “So much plastic—”
“I know,” Eliza said, beaming. “Isn’t it great?”
“Great? Do you know what this stuff does to the oceans?”
She waved him away as she looked through it all for anything that looked recent enough to suggest human habitation. No, it was all old, bleached by sun and sea.
“Yes, yes, it’s terrible for fish but it’s bloody awesome for us. Don’t you see?” She brandished a squashed plastic bottle. “We can collect water in this. We can make a still. Boiling seawater is no good unless you’ve got some way to collect the distillate. We can do it with this. Come on!”
Xavier seemed reluctant to believe her methods would work, but he at least knew how to construct a fire so she set him to collecting materials for that while she picked a site to make camp. Somewhere with shade was preferable, but not under the coconut trees because if one of them fell from a great height it could kill them, or at least crush their camp. She chose an area near the edge of the palm grove and set to digging a hole in the sand with her hands. It wasn’t long before she found damp sand, and triumphantly filled it with greenery.
Xavier watched with amusement as she cut a flap of torn plastic from the life raft and positioned it over the bail-out jug she’d placed in the middle of the water hole. Sand weighted down one side of the plastic sheeting, and rocks the other so she could check on it. A final pebble weighted the centre of the plastic above the jug.
“And this does what?” Xavier asked, looking up from his carefully constructed campfire.
“The sun causes the moisture to evaporate and condense against the plastic. Then it drips down into the jug,” she explained. Hopefully, anyway. She’d seen it on TV and n
ever tried it out. If none of this worked she’d be embarrassed as well as dehydrated.
She made two more with cut-up plastic bottles from the debris on the beach, then considered what to do next.
“Get out of the sun,” Xavier advised. “You’re already red.”
She looked at her arms. He was right. And her t-shirt had a wide neck that slipped very attractively off one shoulder, but didn’t do a lot to protect her from sun.
“When I’ve found some coconuts,” she said.
There were several on the ground once she began looking. Some had already split and gone bad, but Eliza figured they could probably use the shells in some way. A dim recollection told her the green ones had the most liquid in them, but none had fallen. Maybe if they shook the tree…?
Xavier attacked the first coconut he found with his machete, spilling it open. It was a brown, mature nut, without much liquid inside, “Which is just as well because if you’d wasted it I’d be really mad at you.”
“Plenty of meat though. I’m starving,” he said, handing her half.
So was she. Eliza realised she’d eaten nothing since supper last night, which hadn’t been particularly substantial. “Oh my God, this tastes so good,” she moaned, scooping it up with her fingers. Xavier did the same, grabbing handfuls of it.
“It really does.”
“And coconut oil is super good for you. Even on the skin. Not that I’m recommending we waste it on our skin,” she added when he looked at her like she was mad. “But I think if you boil it up with some water you can skim off the fat. If we needed oil. Maybe for cooking,” she added.
“Sure,” he said, “I’ll just go to the store and buy some steaks.”
“You laugh,” said Eliza, with coconut juice running over her chin, “but there’s an ocean of fish around us. I’m sure we can find a way to catch some.”
If Granny could see me now! Mummy and Lady Ogilvy-Wright and—
She tried to shut down that thought. No point in making herself homesick. The entire Royal Navy would be out looking for her by now. Melissa had probably raised the alarm, and if she hadn’t then Wilson certainly would. Her cousin Tom would be in his helicopter, and so would Edward—