by Kendra Riley
Damn it, he thought, come on, move, get out of here… The beast was no tiny croc. It was large, it’s back heavily scarred from wars with other salties, and there were scars that looked like they came from boat propellers. It looked like a five meter croc… or more than that. Where were the croc experts when you needed them, huh?
The deepest part of the river was supposedly only twenty-feet, but it was a depth he didn’t want to risk, not with Sara telling him that she wasn’t a strong swimmer. It took less than a minute for the croc to sink back into the depths. He let out a sigh of relief, and then he looked at Sara and saw her pale and shaking.
“It’s gone,” he told her.
“For now.”
She was right. It was for now. Zac knew he couldn’t blame the croc; he was just being a croc. They had minimal options for safety, minimal shade, and no food. They would have to swim out of here, he knew.
“We can try to swim,” he told her. “It’s a risk, but we are damn getting out of here.”
“It’ll attack us, that’s how they are,” Sara said. She sounded resigned to it. “It’s mating season, they’re extra aggressive.”
“I know, but if we stay here, we’ll die out of starvation or dehydration. I don’t think I can eat you.”
He saw her give a tiny smile, and he was glad for it. Tension down for a few seconds, at least. “Sara, I’m sorry I couldn’t do better for us. This whole thing, I feel like—”
“It’s your fault?” she interrupted him.
“Yeah. I drove the boat here.”
“It’s not your fault. We’d be minced meat by now, sashimi for that big, fat bastard.”
“Careful, he might hear you,” he joked.
“You still have time to kid around. I can’t believe your humor is still intact after all this.”
“So I’ll stay sane. It helps, really it does.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, the next time we’re stuck on an island surrounded by crocodiles.”
“I’ve only seen one big one, you know. The rest are like his minions… or his snacks.”
“Don’t make me feel even more worried,” Sara said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Zac sighed. “Wish I could wrestle crocs. Unfortunately, I don’t have that kind of strength,” he laughed, “Just like Crocodile Dundee.”
“Who is that?”
“Some old movie, about a guy who’s from the bush, wrestled a croc and stuff like that.”
“Oh…” her voice trailed off. “It’s really hot today.”
She was right. It was hot, and he tried not to mind it, but it wasn’t something he could ignore.
It was as if it never rained yesterday, and he saw her lips had begun to dry up, cracked everywhere and bleeding in one corner. He knew he looked almost the same as her condition. It was past eight in the morning now, and there was no sign of search and rescue anywhere. He felt his hopes slipping a notch. Just a notch, he told himself. You’ll get out of here, you’ll take Sara with you, and you’ll go home in one piece, then you’ll work your ass off for all those years you played hooky on the company.
Were regrets creeping up on him now? He had lived his whole life without regrets. He had lived a life of fun and adventure. This was a big adventure now, and he was with someone he met a few days ago, someone he liked. This wasn’t the place to contemplate falling in love, but it seemed like he was heading in that direction.
“Sara, after we get back…” he paused, “what do you wanna do first?” He thought of asking her out on a date, but he couldn’t say it. He’d be labeled as immature, out of touch with reality.
“A shower,” she said. “And a liter of water.”
“I’m thinking the same thing, except with food, a burger most likely, or some good old pizza.”
“So specific,” she said, closing her eyes to shield herself from the heat momentarily. “I just want a cold salad.”
“You’re celebrating survival with a salad?” he laughed aloud, forgetting the situation for a second. “And a beer?”
She frowned. “Hey, to each his own. Besides we haven’t gotten out of here yet, I have all the time to change my mind.”
“You’re highly likeable in a different way, you know.”
“You just like me 'cause you slept with me,” she told him. “If this was someone else, you’d like them all the same.”
“They’re not Sahara Wright,” he told her.
“I’m honestly confused as to whether I should feel weirded out or a bit flattered.”
“Both are acceptable. Look, Sara, I really want us to get out of here, but not with that thing in the water. If we stay here, we’ll die from everything else that Kakadu can offer.”
“It’s between a rock and a hard place…”
“It’s that hard of choice. If we don’t see that croc in the next hour, we make a swim for it, alright?”
He saw her nod weakly.
“You carry the pocket knife, blade out, okay?” he told her.
“B-blade out? While I swim?”
“Yes. I’ll show you how it’ll go.”
“All this for a chance date?”
“It’s a date if I survive. If I don’t, you’ve got a hell of a lot of memories in Oz.”
“I don’t want bad memories.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Well, I’ll give you good ones, once we’re out of here,” he said.
And they waited. They waited as the sun beat down on them, waited as their skin began to burn from the heat. He closed his eyes every few minutes to rest them from the haze. The trees surrounding them felt like bushes. There was barely any shade left. It was past ten in the morning, he knew. His watch had conked out.
Zac knew they had to leave something behind. He could place it all in the dry bag, which would slow down his pace, or he could leave everything and just rely on adrenalin and fate—adrenalin he could work with, fate not so much.
“Alright,” he said an hour later. “No sight of our territorial buddy, let’s get a move on.”
“Zac, are we really doing this?”
“Yes,” he said, “it’s our window for escape.” He showed her the knife. “You swim like this,” he said, “freestyle works best, and you hold the knife like this. Got it?”
She nodded, but it was barley a nod. He gave her the knife, and she gripped it in her palm, as if trying to feel the weight of what she was about to do.
“Are you ready?” he asked her.
She closed her eyes and said nothing.
“Right,” he said, trying to sound optimistic. He took a step down, and he held out his palm for her hand. “We can do this. Just swim, swim as fast as you can, and don’t look back.”
He saw the horror in her eyes as he took a step closer to the water. “We’re only fifty feet across. I’m sure you’ve done more in California.”
She took a step beside him, and she took a deep breath, not knowing if she was going to come out of it alive, with him…
“Go!” he shouted.
*
“Go Sara, go!” he shouted from behind her. “I’m right behind you, don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop!”
She swam, her strokes awkward and erratic, but she was moving forward, and she felt the current underneath her body. Every breath was a struggle, but every breath signaled her head was still above water, every breath signaled she was still alive.
He was crying for her to swim, and his voice behind her signaled he was still alive, and she wanted him to keep shouting at her. Please for the love of god, just keep shouting. Her grip on the knife tightened, and she imagined for a brief moment that a croc was right at her heels. Don’t you dare think of that! Just get to shore, go home in one piece.
“Go Sara! You’re almost there!” he called out. “Come on, Sara!”
And by some miracle, she felt sand underneath her feet and her palms. Quickly stumbling to higher ground, knife in hand, she looked back to see him following her. Safe and sound—
“Zac!” she screamed, seeing that reptilian head seize him by the leg, just as he began crawling out of the water. “Zac!”
She heard his guttural cry of pain, and she ran back to him, not knowing what had possessed her. That bastard wasn’t getting him! Water sloshed around her ankles, and she waded deeper, the water reaching her knees, then without another thought, she buried the knife deep into the croc’s eye without meaning to. She hadn’t imagined the croc would be capable of a roar, a roar that sent shivers down her spine. It flailed and lashed around them, and its tail knocked her over onto the sandy shore.
And then all was silent. She was shaking, and she pulled Zac up with a strength she never thought she had, dragging his body to the shoreline, as far as she could from the water’s edge.
“Zac, Zac,” she cried, pulling him upwards, her arms underneath his shoulders. “Oh god, Zac!”
Zac’s eyes fluttered open, as he looked at her. “Sara, you did great,” he murmured.
She looked down on his leg and saw a tear so deep she could see bone and muscle. Tourniquet, she thought. She quickly tore off her shirt, leaving only her camisole as her top. Her hands were shaking so badly, she had no idea how to do it. She twisted the cloth she had torn up, as best as she could, twisting it tight enough to close that gap between skin and bone and muscle. Blood was all over her hands, and she suddenly wanted to puke.
“Stay awake Zac,” she told him.
“I am,” he said in a hoarse voice, “just really tired…”
“Well, so am I, but I need someone to talk to.”
Quickly tying up a knot, she looked back at the water, dreading that the croc was still there.
“We have to move,” she told him, “can you stand?”
“Do I still have my leg?”
“Yes.”
“Great, let’s do this,” he grunted.
She had no idea where they were going, no idea where they were, but she was more worried about the blood loss now. He looked pale, and if memory served her right, a croc’s mouth was full of bacteria.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” she told him with a nervous laugh. “You were silent the last few yards.”
“For suspense,” he said, hobbling up. He was leaning against her, with almost his entire body weight on her. “God, that hurts,” he grimaced.
Should I leave him here? To look for help? But I’m no expert. I’ve only been here two days. The hot morning air mingled with her wet clothes, and she began to sweat. “Can you walk?”
“I can try. I don’t want to—”
“We got out of the water together, so we’re walking out of here together,” she insisted. “Get a grip on yourself, Zac.” Get a grip on yourself, Sara. Don’t panic.
“Bossy,” he grunted. “Does it look that bad?”
“Looks disgusting. Nothing a doctor can’t stitch up, though.”
“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said it was disgusting,” she replied, as he wrapped his arm around her. He hobbled as they took another step forward. It took all of her strength to walk a mile at least, with Zac relying on her heavily. They passed a large tree with overgrown vines and roots, and he asked her to stop.
“I can’t do this to you,” he said. “You have to leave me here and look for help. You come back for me when you can.”
“No,” she cried out, surprised at how loud it was. “I’m not leaving you here.”
“Better chances of surviving,” he said to her.
She began to cry, but it was a quiet cry, something she couldn’t stop. “Please, I’m not leaving you here. Please. There’s something we can do, I know it.”
Wildly, she looked around, searching for anything to help them, to help him—a branch, some random fallen branch, tall and large enough to carry his weight. She picked one up and held it against him.
“This looks good enough,” she said, optimistic.
“A crutch, huh?”
“We’ll just have to fit your arm over it.”
“That looks like it’s going to chafe.”
“Mate,” she said sarcastically. “I can’t carry you another mile. Your chafed armpit will do.”
“Yeah, my chafed armpit will do,” he agreed with a groan.
Sara cut off bits of the branch, fashioning a haphazard curve to cradle his armpit. It was crudely done, but it was the best she could do. She looked at Zac. Despite his brave efforts, he was getting paler by the moment, and he was breaking out in cold sweat, despite the heat. She had to have that cut sealed off properly. The shirt she tore up wasn’t enough to keep blood in.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him later on. She concluded they had gone a few miles in a matter of hours, and he had asked her to stop again, so he could rest.
“Like crap. A pile of crap…”
“Almost there,” she told him.
“You don’t even know where we are,” he said, closing his eyes.
“We’re close. I can feel it.” Please have a road nearby,
“This isn’t like you,” he grinned weakly. “So positive, so reckless.”
“People change, in a matter of hours,” she said. “Besides, I learned from the best.”
“I’ve created a monster.”
“Shh. Conserve your energy.”
He nodded, his eyes looking bleary. Sara was about to say something to him, when she heard sounds, sounds that came from people. She stood up and ran to where it was. “Help! Help! Anyone! Help! Is someone there?”
“Who’s there? Miss Wright?” a voice responded. “Miss Wright, is that you?”
“Yes! It’s me! I’m with Zac!” Relief flooded into her as soon as she saw rangers and a few local police officers, and Danny was with them.
“Sara? Jesus, you’re alive! Where’s Zac?”
“He’s over there,” she said frantically. “A croc bit him.”
A ranger took out his radio to relay the current situation. A chopper was arriving in ten minutes. She led them back to Zac, who had his eyes closed while he leaned against a tree.
“Zac, Zac! Help is here,” she told him excitedly, shaking his shoulder.
He opened his eyes, rather she saw how well he tried to, but couldn’t. He nodded.
“Zac, my boy,” Danny said, bending down beside him. “Help is on the way.
Sara nodded, glad they had made it out. The bush was suddenly filled with people, and medical equipment. She suddenly felt the thirst and the heat of the day, and without another word, she collapsed.
Chapter14
“So, you’re Sahara Wright?” a slim, blonde-haired woman began, as she sat down across from Sara’s hospital bed. She was dressed well and held herself well.
Sara blinked and reached out for a paper cup of water. She nodded, blinking rapidly. Her throat was dry, and her lips hurt as she moved them. She drank a bit of water, feeling its cooling effect go down her throat.
“You look like you’re in bad shape,” the woman continued.
Who was this lady? Someone from the insurance company? Someone from the foundation?
“Sorry,” she said with a smile. “I’m Caroline, by the way, Zac’s sister.”
“Hello,” Sara said in a hoarse voice. “I’m feeling better now.”
“Don’t make me feel better about myself,” Caroline laughed. “But I’m glad you two made it out alive.”
“How, how is he?” she said, speaking slowly.
“He’s fine. They’re doing surgery on him at the moment. What happened out there, Sara?”
She shook her head, signaling she didn’t want to talk about it. Two days later, she still had dreams of that croc and the dark, dark water that surrounded them for hours on end. She shuddered.
“Alright, you don’t need to tell me anything that happened after that boating incident.”
“Did they make it out? The rangers?” she suddenly remembered them. There was Solomon and two other guys.
Carolin
e nodded. “They did, luckily. Found downstream, quite a good distance from where you two were.”
“I wasn’t so good with wilderness survival.”
“I’m sure Zac was,” Caroline said. “Wait, was he?”
She nodded. “He kept me alive the whole time, kept me sane.”
“Typical Zac,” she said, almost proudly puffing up her chest like a mama bird. “Despite no rations?”
“We did our best.”
“The boat was found half-sunken with a large hole in it. There will be an inquest for the incident, though. Nothing too serious, but expect a bit of media.”
“I will.” Media? What for? For a boat? Or because they were from one of the world’s best zoos? And it made news because they had survived a crocodile attack?
“Best I get going, Sara. It is Sara, right?” then Caroline laughed, “it’s as if I’m saying your family name.”
Sara couldn’t help but give a weak grin.
*
He woke up, and then he felt that pain he had never felt before. Hospital, he was in a hospital. Sara! Where was she? He looked around—well, he tried but couldn’t. In fact, he could barely move.
“Oh god, he’s awake,” someone said excitedly.
His vision focused, and he saw his eldest sister at the edge of the bed. Caroline quickly walked closer to him, holding his bandaged hand. His second sister, Cara, walked for his bedside, too.
“How long…?” he stopped, trying to remember what happened.
“Two days, all of two days you had us worried,” Caroline said. “Not counting the day they spent looking for you and the intern. They spotted the flare just—”
“Where is she?”
“Still here, same hospital,” Cara said. “She might be discharged tomorrow. Everything’s been taken care of.”
“Dad was here a while ago,” Caroline said. “Yesterday, he thought your leg was going to be amputated, so he gave approval for it to be cut.”
“What?”
“Kidding.”
“Not funny, Caroline.”
“It’s your brand of humor,” she told him. “At the very least, you’re quick to react now. That was some research you got yourself into.”