Page 5 of Doink (Rainbow Dorset University)

PEYTON

I knew it was going to rain. But the darkness of the clouds rolling in quickly is far more than I was expecting. In the distance, the clouds light up with a burst of lightning.

Fuck.

I’m not exactly panicking. We’re not far from the island.

But as the wind picks up, the lake becomes more and more churned.

Dana isn’t used to being on something that rocks and tips, so anything that makes him nervous gives us an elevated chance of flipping.

Even with life vests on, I don’t want us in the water. Not during a lightning storm.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Dana asks. He looks up at the sky, and I see him flinch as a raindrop hits his forehead. I think I actually saw it splash. Big drop. Not good.

“Go ahead,” I tell him. “Skim the surface with the paddle. You’re not digging a hole. Okay?”

He does okay, but his depth perception of the lake surface needs some work. He ends up splashing me with nearly every other stroke and apologizes constantly.

I’m laughing, even as I’m trying to hurry us along.

I’m not afraid, precisely. We’ll live. No doubt in my mind at all. We’d be further, except Dana was appreciating the view—it’s so peaceful and beautiful—so I’d been letting us drift more than rushing to the island.

I glance at the sky as we ride the lake. Just beyond the island we’re aiming for, I can see a wall of rain as it moves this way. Great. We’re going to get soaked. Though I had a feeling we weren’t going to get out of that eventuality as soon as I realized a storm was coming.

Did I simply ignore the news because I’d been dying to kayak again for ages? How had I missed the fact that we were getting a lightning storm way out here in the middle of nowhere while we’re sitting in the middle of a damn lake on a kayak?

Stupid.

“See the little sandy patch?” I ask, using my oar to point so Dana can see where I’m looking. He nods. “That’s where we’re headed. No need to slow down. We want to run aground, so it’s easier to pull the kayak out.”

“Okay.”

He sounds breathless. I imagine he’s nervous. I get it. I am, too. This is far too close for my liking.

As the distance between us and the island closes, I begin feeling fat drops of water. One on my head. It’s so heavy it almost feels sharp. On my arm. My shoulder. My thigh.

They start falling more rapidly. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As the nose of the kayak hits the sand, the sky opens, and it’s as if there are buckets of chilled water dumped on us. Dana gasps, his mouth opening wide as he looks around. His eyes meet mine, and I can’t help but laugh at his expression as I jump out and haul the kayak further up the tiny beach.

I offer my hand and help Dana out. “Grab the rope and help me get this out of the water.”

He certainly doesn’t want to be stuck in a downpour. I’m trying really hard not to laugh at the way he’s trying to hold his arms away from his body, as if he’s disgusted by the whole thing.

We’re already sopping wet. We can’t possibly get more wet.

I grab the end of the kayak as it leaves the water. “Into the trees,” I instruct as a burst of wind comes whipping around the trees. It’s so sudden and strong that I shift an inch. The water begins lapping loudly at the shore.

Waves don’t form on small lakes like this.

It’s a large lake, but it’s not anywhere near as big as one of the Great Lakes.

But the water can still become wild and dangerous, which it’s trying to be.

It reaches up to lap at my feet, pulling back a whole lot of sand as it retreats, taking my footing with it.

I let Dana lead us into the trees. We need to get away from the shore and secure the kayak so it’s not somehow stripped from the island, leaving us completely stranded here. Especially considering we don’t have cell service. Those warnings were all over the website when I was researching this lake.

I told a handful of people where we were headed, and if they didn’t hear from me by Tuesday, then they should be concerned. But that’s four days from now. I didn’t think this through because it wasn’t something I thought to truly consider a possibility.

“Here’s good,” I tell him and guide him to the two trees I’m eyeing.

They’re spaced a distance from each other where we can tie up either end of the kayak, and it shouldn’t go anywhere.

“There’s a small cabin on the island,” I tell Dana as I begin untying the items in the kayak.

“We’ll take shelter there until the storm passes. ”

Dana glances up at the treetop canopy, squinting through the falling rain. It’s less harsh within the trees, but the rainfall is still steady and the drops feel even bigger. He nods and helps me untie our bags.

I open the rubber bag around my backpack and shove the first aid kit inside. “You have any room in yours for the emergency supply bag?” I ask, pointing.

He nods and stuffs it inside while I begin getting the kayak secured to the tree closest to me. I move to the other side and tie it up tightly. After giving the kayak a hard few tugs to make sure it’s secure, I shrug out of the life vest and tie it to my pack, and then help Dana do the same.

“Where’s the cabin?” he asks, looking around as I help him into his pack.

“I don’t know exactly. The island isn’t huge. Only about a square mile. But it’s not a straight line, so we might have to look for a bit.”

A rumble of thunder, louder and closer, penetrates the canopy. Dana shivers. He nods at my answer.

I pick up the tote of food, and we begin walking away from the kayak. Thankfully, the kayak itself is bright yellow. Even if we don’t know exactly where we left it, it will be found again easily enough.

“Just keep walking straight,” I tell him. “Keep an eye out.”

Dana nods again.

The trees are getting heavy with the rain. Limbs are drooping, acting like funnels for streams of water. There are kids’ water parks where a bucket will slowly fill overhead and then, when it’s reached its tipping point, will roll over and dump water on you.

It feels like the trees are filled with these water traps. I try very hard not to burst out laughing when a bucket of water dumps over Dana’s head and he gasps loudly.

“Oh my god,” he says, shaking his hands as if they’ll dry off. When he looks at me, I struggle really hard to hide my smile.

Thankfully, he’s a really good sport. The horror at being dumped on by an invisible bucket in the trees turns into him fighting a smile. “These woods are mean,” he mutters and turns back to walking.

I grin when his back is toward me again.

My feet make slurching sounds with each step.

I feel soggy. Soaked to my bones. Dana stops and points ahead.

At first, I think he’s found our cabin, but I see that he’s actually pointing to the shore that he can see through the trees.

The water is churning, much angrier now than it had been when we left the opposite end of the island.

“Take a left,” I tell him. “Ninety degrees.”

He turns and begins walking again. I wait until he’s gone a couple dozen paces or so and then have him take another left and we begin a ‘ mow the lawn ’ pattern.

Another rumble of thunder moves by overhead. This one is louder than the previous and it lasts for a handful of seconds. I really need us to find this cabin. It’s not safe being surrounded by tall objects in a lightning storm.

I’m kicking myself in the ass for having completely fucking ignored the weather. This could turn into a really dangerous oversight. How old was the picture with the cabin? I didn’t even think to look or ask questions. It was about solitude. The pristine location.

The only thing we truly have going for us right now is that there aren’t any predators on this tiny island. Nothing but birds and maybe some small mammals.

Dana stops abruptly and I almost plow into him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I don’t think we’re alone on the island,” he whispers.

Not going to lie. Chills race down my spine. Great. Now we’re in the middle of a slasher movie. Fucking nutballs.

I hand the tote of food to him and take a few steps in the direction he’d been staring. My heart races as I look. Yep, there’s definitely movement. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did I get us into?

My heart almost stops in relief when I realize what we’re seeing move is the very edge of a flag dancing wildly in the breeze. I turn back to him to take the tote and kiss his cheek. “Fucking brilliant, hot stuff. You found the cabin.”

He stares at me in shock. Laughing, I turn and lead the way. We’d probably just barely missed it through the dense trees on our way by the first time. It blends in rather well.

As we get closer, I can see how incredibly tiny it is. A couple hundred square feet at most. Which is entirely fine. I don’t need a five-star hotel room. Just shelter from the storm.

We get to the door as a streak of lightning, bright enough to have me momentarily seeing stars, flashes overhead. “The door should be unlocked,” I yell over the booming thunder that follows.

Dana rushes to the door and throws it open, but he doesn’t go further. The building is dark. I shove the tote into his hands again and grab the lantern just inside the door with a cord sticking out of it. I pull the cord off and turn it on.

Thankfully, it gives off some incredibly impressive light. Holding it up, I illuminate the cabin, assuring that there’s no one else here. Neither of us wants to be stuck in the middle of a slasher film. It’s blessedly empty, so I step inside.

“Come on,” I tell him and grab his arm, hauling him out of the rain. “Set the tote down by the table.”

I shut the door. It rattles with a gust of wind, so I secure it with the doorstop. That does the trick. It no longer sounds like the boogeyman is trying to bust up in here.

Sighing, I turn to look around. Straight ahead is a woodstove, and behind it on either side are neat towers of wood.

To the right is a small bed, caught somewhere between a twin-sized and a double.

I see a couple of totes under it, likely holding linens.

At the foot of the bed is a door with a half-moon, meaning outhouse.

I think I read that there’s a composting toilet, so that’s a win.

Right inside the door is a small round table where Dana’s standing beside the tote of food we brought. On the opposite side of the cabin, across from the bed, is a counter half the length of the wall. The rest of the wall is full of floor-to-ceiling cabinets.

Okay, this is going to work just fine. First things first—time to get dry.