Page 45 of Hate Wrecked

ROWAN

There is something dead in there. The dread I’ve felt ever since we left Hawaii has found us.

I walk over to Riley, and she turns to me. I pull a strand of hair from her cheek before I can stop myself, pull away before her hand can touch mine in return. She shakes her head. “I don’t want to open that, Rowan.”

“We have to,” I say, turning toward the trunk. The chain around it has loosened over time, and when I pull on the lid, it opens enough for me to see inside.

Bones lie scattered on the bottom like scratch marks. The water does nothing to conceal their starkness against the black.

I let the lid drop, turning to Riley. I grab her hand and start walking to the shore.

“Man or woman?” Riley cries.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about…I don’t know.”

She rips her hand from mine, covering her eyes with both palms. “I want to go home. I want to go home.”

Gone is her love for the island, her resignation to our fate. Gone is her acceptance of this place.

“I know,” I say, walking to her. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her wet hair.

She doesn’t hug me back, just exhales ragged breaths, escalating to a gallop.

“Riley,” I whisper. “You need to calm down.” I don’t want her freaking out.

She can’t have a panic attack out here. I kiss her temple and say her name until she pulls her hands from her eyes and leans her forehead to my chest. She wraps her arms around me and starts to slow her breathing, realizing what I’m doing.

She matches her breaths to mine, and I speak softly and slowly.

I tell her it’s going to be okay. But will it? What do I know?

I will protect her here until the last day I’m alive. I will protect her from the elements, from time and nature and anything threatening us.

I just hope she knows.

Eventually, Riley pulls away, wiping her eyes.

“We need to...we need to get that out of the water. Do something.”

I nod in agreement. We need to get it out of the water and store it somewhere safe because we need to alert the authorities about what we found when we leave this island, and we will leave.

Gerald Extroix was here for years and he never saw this? Perhaps his presence and nightly radio calls to the mainland meant whoever did this would likely not return. And maybe they didn’t want to. Perhaps they assumed the ocean would devour the body.

But the islands are alone now, unguarded. It is just us, secret visitors.

I pray the government shows up soon. They should have been here by now, right?

Day after day we’ve waited on Falcon Island, wondering when they’ll arrive. It’s draining.

It’s drained us of something hopeful.

All that is left is to cling together.

Riley and I walk back to the trunk. We each grab a handle and lift. Slowly, we shuffle the coffin—because isn’t that what it is? The resting place of someone who came to paradise, and never got to leave? Someone who didn’t choose to go to the depths?

“I think we should move it to one of the bunkers,” I say. It’s a huge ask, a tiring job. The trunk is heavy, but I don’t want to remove the remains. I want them to stay as we found them for the authorities.

Riley nods. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s do it now. We can, I don’t know, maybe adjust the chain there. Secure it.”

“We have to leave it how we found it.”

Riley wipes at her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay.”

Silently, we secure the fishing poles and our supplies for the day trip in the trees.

Then we walk to the trunk. With heavy steps, we walk in the direction of the next island.

We take breaks, wiping at our brows, stretching our arms. Riley won’t look at the trunk when we change sides, giving our arms rest.

She is silent, far away as we load it onto the lifeboat, inching toward our destination—another dark resting place.