by Probst, Jeff
But none of that mattered. Above all, she kept thinking about something her mother liked to say. If you don’t try, you’ll never know.
It couldn’t hurt, anyway. Even just writing the letter felt good, like making a tiny connection to the real world back home.
Looking toward the horizon, Jane held the bottle in both hands. She gave it a quick kiss for good luck and threw it as far as she could. It splashed into the ocean, several yards offshore, and bobbed there, not going anywhere for the time being.
Jane watched for a few seconds more, then turned away and headed back to the ship. She’d done what she could. The rest was up to luck.
Carter stood perfectly still. Don’t move, Benson, he told himself. Not even so much as a twitch.
It was dim in the woods. The sun had started to go down, and everything was washed in the pale blue color of dusk. But one thing stood out. It was the tan-and-black-banded snake, slithering off the tree in front of him.
It moved slowly off a low branch, taking its time. Carter wondered if the snake was aware of him or not. If so, it didn’t seem to care. The thing had never seen a human before—that was for sure. It was just going about its business, heading for the carpet of leaves and brush on the forest floor.
Carter’s heart raced with adrenaline, but there was no fear. He was too hungry for that. He’d heard of people eating rattlers before. Why not this one, too? It was at least three feet long, and thick. Which meant meaty, Carter thought. Its tiny black eyes were barely visible on either side of its flat, triangular head.
That was what he’d aim for—the head. But first, he needed a weapon.
Keeping his feet planted, he looked around for anything he could easily grab. A gray fist-sized rock sat in the weeds just a few feet away. It was smaller than he would have liked, but it would have to do. Moving slowly, he crouched down and picked up the rock with his good hand, never taking his eyes off the snake.
Now, he waited. The snake paused and advanced, paused and advanced, working its way toward the base of the tree trunk. Eventually, it slid onto flat ground, where it stopped again.
This was his chance. Any doubts he might have had were drowned out by the sharp, empty ache in his stomach. In one fluid motion, Carter dropped and brought the rock down on the snake’s head with all the strength he had.
It was a direct hit. But the snake reacted with a speed of its own. Its tail and back half kicked up, coiling around Carter’s leg. He felt a squeeze on his thigh as he jumped back. His fingers wrapped around the snake’s leathery body, and he whipped it off his leg, dropping it to the ground again. Without pause, he stepped forward and pinned the thing with his sneaker.
For a full minute or more, the snake’s body continued to move. It writhed under his foot, slowly curling and uncurling, until finally, it went still.
Carter looked down at his kill. He prodded it with his toe to make sure it was dead. Then he picked it up and turned to go.
It was only as he headed back to the ship that his nerves started to kick in. His hand trembled as he walked, with the lifeless snake hanging in his grip. He realized he’d barely breathed the whole time, and his lungs worked to catch up.
I can’t believe I just did that, he thought. Some animal part of him had taken over. It all happened in a blur.
But now, one thing was clear above all. He knew what was coming next.
Dinner!
CHAPTER 6
Other than microwave popcorn, Vanessa had never been much of a cook. But since Carter had made the kill, and Buzz was keeping the fire, she volunteered to do something with the snake. She only wished she could have brought back some fish to go with it.
Everyone was so hungry, there was no talk of how disgusting this might have been in any other situation. Not even from Jane, who could barely stomach the snails. Now, even she was excited at the prospect of something new to eat.
The first thing they had to do was use a knife from the galley to cut off the snake’s head. Jane said that if the snake was venomous, that’s where the poison would be. She didn’t know what kind of snake it was, but offered that it looked like a boa of some kind.
“Looks like snake steaks to me,” Carter said, and pitched the severed head way back into the woods. “The rats can have that part.”
With the head gone, Vanessa was surprised at how easily the skin came off. It was like peeling a sock away from a long tube. It made sense, actually. Snakes were built to shed.
After that, everyone agreed that it was best to slit the whole thing open and clean out the insides, the same way they’d seen Joe Kahali clean fish on the Lucky Star. For that, Vanessa took the snake and climbed down to the water’s edge. After she’d sliced it along the belly, all the insides pulled out in one long, slimy piece. If she weren’t so hungry, that part alone would have made her sick, Vanessa knew. It was amazing how easily it came to her now. She dropped the innards in the water without a thought and climbed back onto the deck with the snake meat dangling in her hand.
“Let’s cook this thing,” she said.
Buzz already had a pot heating over the campfire. The pot sat on a broken metal frame that Carter had torn out of the nav station for a cooking grate. The whole setup was kind of pathetic-looking and brilliant at the same time.
Vanessa cut the meat into small pieces so they’d cook quickly. Within a minute of dropping them into the hot pot, the smell reached her nostrils, and her mouth started to water.
As soon as the pieces felt firm to the touch, she passed one out to each of them. She blew on hers, trying to cool it, but quickly lost patience and popped the hot little nugget into her mouth.
The meat was chewy and full of tiny bones, but nobody cared about that. Even the flavor, like a cross between unsalted fish and dark-meat chicken, tasted as good as anything Vanessa had ever eaten.
For a long time, nobody said much. There was plenty to eat, and they all dipped back into the pot for another piece, and another, and another. Nobody even counted or kept track of who was getting how much. For once, it didn’t matter.
Finally, Vanessa sat back, amazed at the tight feeling in her belly.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I’m full.”
“Me, too,” Buzz said. “When was the last time that happened?”
“Best. Snake. Ever!” Jane said.
And when everyone laughed, it was a little bit like getting dessert, too.
After the snake was gone, Buzz had one more idea for the day. He’d gathered up a few supplies, and now pulled them out of the wheelhouse.
“What are you doing?” Carter asked. He, Jane, and Vanessa were stretched out around the fire, keeping warm as the cool of the night came on. A chilly breeze from the ocean blew around the deck, and a sky full of stars had started to show overhead.
“I want to make a torch,” Buzz said. “If I can.”
He picked up a long thin piece of firewood and a bag of old oil-stained rags he’d found in the engine room. The rags hadn’t seemed good for anything at first. Not until this idea had come to him.
He wrapped a thick, triple layer of material around the top of the stick. Then he bound it up with a long piece of wire he’d pulled out of a dead console in the wheelhouse. It worked like metal string, which was exactly what he needed.
“And now, the secret ingredient,” he said, grinning at the others. He turned the would-be torch upside down and dipped it into a pot of the dark, oily sludge from the tank they’d found.
“How do you know that’s going to burn?” Jane asked him.
“I don’t,” he said. He swirled the cotton rags around and around, getting them good and soaked.
“How do you know it won’t explode?” Vanessa added.
Buzz shrugged. “I don’t.”
The others stood up and took several steps away. Buzz set the oil-soaked head of the torch
on the ring of stones around the fire. Then he stepped back, too. Using another stick, he slowly pushed the torch toward the flames. Jane put her hands over her ears. Buzz squinted, waiting for whatever might come next.
The fire burned bright orange all around the rags, but nothing happened. Buzz pushed the torch farther into the fire and waited again. Then, with a hollow popping sound, the whole thing quietly burst into flame.
Carter, Jane, and Vanessa erupted in a cheer.
“Sweet!” Carter said.
Buzz was already feeling high after a full meal. Now, a wide grin spread across his face. He’d done it.
He reached over and took the torch by its handle, stood up with it, and stepped away from the campfire. It burned on its own beautifully—a bright yellow beacon against the dark sky.
This was amazing. It was like holding a giant flashlight. It was security on a dark night. It was power. Not just for him but for all of them. Already, Jane, Vanessa, and Carter were picking up sticks of their own and starting to assemble more of the homemade torches.
Within a few minutes, everyone had one. It felt like the Fourth of July, with a warm glow lighting the deck of the abandoned ship.
“Come on,” Buzz said. “Let’s test these things out.”
“Where are you going?” Jane asked.
“For a walk.”
Buzz went to the ship’s rail and dropped his torch onto a dry patch of ground below. It hit the dirt and kept right on burning.
Soon all four of them were off the boat, headed toward the mouth of the cove. The torches lit the way as they climbed out onto the rocks to look at the endless stars and bright half-moon overhead.
Buzz could feel the warmth of the flames on his face. It was an amazing sensation—and, strangely, one of the most secure feelings he’d ever had.
“I think we can do this, you guys,” he said.
“Do what?” Vanessa asked.
He gestured, sweeping his arm at the ocean, the shore, the cove—all of it.
“This,” he said.
For a moment, no one said anything. They all seemed to be taking in the power of the idea. They could do this. They were doing this.
Vanessa was the first to break the silence. “What do you think Dad and Beth would think if they could see us now?” she asked.
“You don’t have to call her Beth,” Jane said. “You can call her Mom. I bet she’d like that.”
“I’ll bet you’re right,” Vanessa said. For once, nobody seemed sad at the mention of their parents. “So what do you think Mom and Dad would think if they saw us now?”
“They’d think we were wild animals,” Carter said, and let out a howl.
Then Buzz joined in. Jane and Vanessa, too. Soon, all four of them were laughing and baying at the moon, making as much noise as they pleased.
Why not? Buzz thought. This was their island, after all.
CHAPTER 7
When Carter woke up the next morning, rain was beating heavily against the cabin’s porthole. That was no surprise. The weather changed all the time around here.
The surprise was that he could see daylight outside. Back at the old camp, sleeping in a cave at first, and then in their palm-and-bamboo shelter, none of them had ever gotten a full night’s sleep. To actually wake up in the light, feeling rested, was amazing.
Now, Carter sat up and took a moment to check his hand. The cut from the base of the pinkie to his wrist was caked with dried blood. Even worse, it oozed yellow liquid around the edges. The hand itself was swollen, and he couldn’t fully bend or straighten his fingers anymore. When he tried, the painful throb pulsed like a heartbeat in his hand.
Vanessa, Buzz, and Jane had all been telling him to keep the cut clean. But that was nearly impossible when your days were spent foraging in the jungle, cutting firewood, and moving all around an old, dirty ship. The sock he’d been using as a makeshift bandage had quickly grown so filthy, he’d thrown it away.
Carter stumbled out of the sleeping cabin and up the passageway to the center room outside the galley. Jane, Vanessa, and Buzz were sitting around the old wooden table, underneath the hatch that led up to the wheelhouse.
“Carter, your hand!” Vanessa said before he even spoke.
Carter shoved the hand into his pocket. He hadn’t realized how obvious it would be.
“It feels fine,” he said.
It was a lie, but if there was nothing they could do about it, there was no reason to worry everyone. They already had plenty to worry about. Vanessa narrowed her eyes at him, but Buzz spoke up before she could say anything else.
“We were talking about going to the old camp to get our stuff,” Buzz said.
“Good idea,” Carter said, glad for the change of subject. All of their things were still back there, including blankets, pillows, raincoats, and the axe.
“I think we should try to go through the woods,” Vanessa said. “There’s no way we can carry that stuff back over the rocks. And once we have a path, it’ll probably be faster, too.”
“The only question is whether we should wait for the rain to stop or just go,” Jane said.
Carter looked at one of the dining hall portholes. It was so blurred with rain, he couldn’t even see outside. Experience had shown them that this could be a passing shower, or it could continue all through the day.
“I say let’s go for it,” he said. “So we get wet, who cares? At least there’s coconut back at camp.”
“And coconut’s way better than snails,” Jane said.
Buzz nodded in agreement. “It’s better than sitting around, too,” he said.
That alone was a good enough reason to go, Carter thought. The hardest times here were at night, or whenever they stopped moving and working. That was when the dark thoughts tended to creep in the most.
“All right, it’s decided then,” Vanessa said, and stood up with the rest of them. “Let’s go get wet.”
The trip through the jungle was exactly as Jane expected. The rain poured down through the trees, and the ground was thick with mud in several places.
Even so, it was a shortcut compared to the rocky shoreline. Before long, they were slogging out of the woods and onto the beach they’d known as home base since crashing into the island a week ago.
There was no worrying about keeping dry anymore. In fact, being wet and muddy had become a badge of honor. It was how they lived here. They sat right down in the sand and opened two coconuts for a quick breakfast while the rain continued to fall.
As soon as they’d eaten, everyone agreed to gather up what they could, turn around, and head right back. Using their two blankets as packs, they piled in the axe, the sharp knife, the pillows, and all the remaining coconuts they could carry. There were four rain slickers as well, and everyone put one on.
Jane made sure to take the two pens she’d stashed between the rocks. Buzz took the little glass lens he used for making fire. He’d already found a substitute, but the old one was their good-luck charm, he said.
By the time they were loaded up and ready to go, the rain had gotten even worse. It poured down around them now like walls of water.
“Maybe we should wait,” Jane said.
“Wait for what?” Carter asked.
Mother Nature had an answer for that question as she rocked the island with a massive bolt of lightning and a thunderous boom.
“What about the cave?” Jane asked.
“What about it?” Carter answered. “Remember what happened the last time we used it to get out of a storm?”
Jane did remember. There was no forgetting that stampede of wild boars that had knocked her down—and very nearly done worse.
“If we’re looking for shelter, so are they,” Buzz added.
“Besides, Buzz already marked the trail,” Vanessa said. “We can get back to the ship in fifteen m
inutes.”
“But . . .” Jane started to protest, until she realized no one was listening anymore.
Carter slung one of the improvised blanket packs over his back. Vanessa took the other. Buzz carried the two coils of rope, one on each shoulder, and a pillowcase stuffed with silverware, socks, and some old sea charts from the Lucky Star.
Finally, Jane bent down and picked up the group’s one backpack, filled with their water bottles, while the others glared at her impatiently.
They’d always babied her up till now, but not anymore. It didn’t feel the way she’d always wanted it to, being treated just like anyone else. It felt scary. But that was beside the point, wasn’t it? Sometimes out here you had to accept what was and deal with it.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Jane declared. “Let’s go.” She firmed her grip on the pack, wiped the rain out of her eyes, and started following the others back up into the woods.
CHAPTER 8
Mud sucked at Vanessa’s feet as they made their way through the jungle. The heavy rain had turned the ground even muckier since they’d come through before. In the thickest patches, each step felt like lifting a heavy weight.
Their awkward load of supplies didn’t help. It made maneuvering around the thick vines, over fallen trees, and under low branches that much more difficult. Several times, Vanessa had to stop and adjust the bundle on her back, or pick up something that had fallen out.
Buzz’s blazed trail was the one thing that made the going easier. He’d cut deep V-shaped gouges into the trees along the way, pointing them back toward the ship. Every ten or twenty yards, there was another blaze they could follow.
As they came onto a steep patch of ground where the land sloped toward the ocean, Vanessa stopped at the head of the line.