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CHAPTER TWENTY

HANK

Four days later...

“Prepare yourself for wonderment. Amazement. An engineering miracle you’ll gasp to behold!”

Elliot stands naked on the beach, berry juice and flowers smeared across his bloodshot eyes as makeup. A few feet away, I stand in my boxer briefs with my shirt tied around my head to protect the back of my neck from the occasional sunshine.

“You finished the raft already?” I ask, weak with hunger.

Elliot smiles. He turns and, with some struggle, pulls away the branch that’s covering the raft. There’s no big surprise. I’ve been watching it come together as he worked on it the past few days. But I am impressed by how quickly he accomplished the task.

“I finished the raft!” he declares. The thin logs are tied with strips of cattail stalk, and Elliot jumps onto them. He places his fists on his hips, elbows defiantly jutting out, and looks into the distance. “A worthy vessel for the angry sea.”

I sputter. “Not so fast. I thought I was clear that I’m not taking the raft out to sea.”

I’ve been glad for Elliot to have a project that brings him joy.

Ever since the elephant seals destroyed our dry signals, we’ve been struggling.

Starting over has been a hassle, the only other appropriate location to stage the signals being a significant hike from our fires.

That and the continued lousy weather has made our daily tasks grueling, harder still with our diminishing strength.

Every night that passes, the elements take their toll, too.

Working on the raft made Elliot happy, so I wasn’t going to stop him. No way I’m risking a trip out to sea, though.

Elliot shrugs. “I know we’re not venturing a voyage to the other island,” he acknowledges. “At least not yet. But you’re not appreciating the magnitude, Hank.” He gets down and starts pulling it into the water, struggling. “I made a raft. Do you have any idea what that means?”

I follow him into the sea and help him push it a little. “It’s a big accomplishment. I just think that frustratingly slow, dogged progress on our signals is preferable to risking the open sea again. We barely survived on a proper life raft, after all.”

When Elliot gets the raft into deep enough water, it floats. He lets out a whoop and scrambles on, standing proudly but unsteadily while it starts to drift out.

I stop following and, despite my exhaustion, I can’t help but grin and watch him for a moment. He’s bedraggled and filthy, but still beaming through the pain. Seeing him persevere gives me energy, too.

“It is pretty amazing that you made that,” I say.

Elliot lights up even more. “I know! But this is what I’m talking about.

Back in civilization, if you had asked me whether I was capable of building a raft with basically no supplies, I’d have laughed in your face.

” He throws his head back and laughs loudly to demonstrate, then skips his feet a little.

The raft wobbles, but he throws his arms back out, catches his balance, and doesn’t fall.

“But here on the island, I just went ahead and did it! I think I’m becoming more powerful or something.

Capable.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I’m castaway Elliot now. ”

I wade into the water to look closer at his craftsmanship. “It does look sturdy,” I acknowledge. “Constructed well.”

Elliot jumps off the raft and into the water.

“That’s because castaway Elliot is careful.

Detail-oriented.” He wades to shore and grabs a few things.

“He doesn’t mess around,” he says as he returns to the raft.

After he climbs up again, Elliot holds his rock-phone out.

“Don’t need this anymore,” he says before tossing it into the sea.

“Your phone!” I say, surprised.

Elliot shakes his head. “I haven’t checked it in days,” he says, and turns a piece of driftwood in his hand. “I build rafts now.”

Entertained, I encourage him. “You constructed it much faster than I thought possible, too.”

He gets his face down close to the wood.

“Look,” he says. “The cattail stalks. You taught me how to use them like this for our shoes, and I figured out the lashing technique.” He tugs on a stalk to demonstrate its strength.

“It’s not just a raft,” he says. “It’s a testament to my growth. And to us!”

I pull on one of the stalks, nice and firm. “Psychologically, it is nice to know we have a vessel available. Although no amount of sentimental talk will convince me to brave the sea.”

Elliot takes my hand, and I tilt my eyes to him while waves rise and fall at my thighs.

“Thank you,” Elliot says. “That’s all I’m trying to say. Not just for knowing what plants to eat and how to build a signal fire. I’d never have learned how to be castaway Elliot without you, so thank you for taking care of me, Hank.”

I smile, warmed by the sentiment. Taking care of him feels good, so I’m glad he appreciates it, too. “Your welcome,” I tell him. “And it’s reciprocal. I don’t know what I’d do without you, castaway Elliot.”

He laughs warmly and squeezes my hand. “Good.”

We’re struggling to survive, but he’s right that we’ve accomplished a lot together. Deep emotions stir inside me as I consider him, complex feelings I can barely begin to unpack.

“Help me onto this raft,” I tell him. “No reason we shouldn’t take it around the cove.”

ELLIOT

Delighted, I pull Hank up onto the raft, which easily accepts the extra weight. My body hurts, I’m constantly dizzy, and no amount of seaweed will cut this aching, constant hunger. I can’t catch a crab for the life of me, and dragging sticks has become an endless, tedious chore.

But I built a raft. And Hank agreed to join me for a float, which means he trusts that the raft won’t sink. It might be a minor thing, but for maybe the first time on this island, I feel truly competent and capable.

I lean forward and brush a kiss across his lips. “I’m so glad you’re risking life and limb to join me on the raft.”

Hank sits and gets himself in position. “We’ve earned a little pleasure cruise. And just remember the protocol if you’re ever caught in a current.”

“Swim parallel to the shore,” I say with a nod, glad to be reminded. “Got it. Thanks.” I take the driftwood and paddle, guiding us slowly out into the cove.

The drizzle picks up, the rain returning again, and Hank pulls his shirt off his head. As we float further out, the water grows darker beneath us, so I take care to steer us well inside the cove.

“Maybe we could use the raft to go fishing,” I offer. “Or to make our way along the shore more easily? There’s got to be some practical value in it. Can you think of any clever nature tricks that a raft would help?”

Hank stretches back, relaxing while I paddle. “Perhaps.” He trails a hand in the water. “It is surprisingly relaxing to float.”

Warmth floods me when I see him ease back and lazily smile to himself. The days have worn our energy down, and I’m glad to see he still smiles sometimes.

I set the driftwood down and get next to him, letting the raft float. “Very relaxing,” I agree, and when Hank turns to me, we kiss.

Our beards scrape together, his tongue swipes mine, and I let out a low, hungry moan of appreciation.

My body responds. Even through the hunger and exhaustion, whenever we press close, something stirs inside me. I cling to Hank, anchoring myself to him, safe in his arms.

Quickly, though, I pull back. Hank grunts softly, and I lift the paddle again. No way I’m letting us drift out to sea.

“Guess I should avoid the elephant seal beach,” I say as I steer us in a wide circle.

Hank sits up, steadying himself on the wet wood.

“Actually, maybe we can cruise by? The seals won’t enter the water when they’re molting.

They don’t even eat, in fact. It could be a fun opportunity to check them out without putting ourselves in danger.

While still keeping a healthy distance, of course. ”

“Can’t miss a chance to see seals shed their skin,” I joke as I paddle us straight again.

Hank laughs. “Mother nature’s miracles abound.”

“Regular Elliot might find it disgusting, and honestly so does castaway Elliot, but I’m intrigued, too. It’s like we’ve been so inundated with gross, I’m growing immune.” I paddle a bit more. “Bring on the cataclysmic molt.”

“Catastrophic,” Hank says, and when I glance, I see that he’s smiling at me.

“Catastrophic,” I agree, and when I do, a flash of movement catches my attention. I turn in time to see a killer whale rise up in the water behind us, no more than twenty feet away. Three more rise up behind it and spray water from their blowholes, screeching.

“Oh shit!” I yelp and stumble back, terrified. I nearly overturn the raft, but Hank catches me, steadying me in his arms.

“Okay, okay,” he says, whispering the words as he locks his eyes on the Orcas. “It’s unlikely that they’re here to target us.”

He’s barely finished the words before the whales dive in our direction.

“Fuck!” I yell. I grab the driftwood and try to paddle us away. Hank joins me, splashing in the water.

“Shore!” he shouts. “We need to get to shore.”

Before us, though, a thundering roar sounds out, bellowing across the water. I look up in time to see two of the molting seals at the beach’s edge. Upright, they throw their heads around and repeat the terrifying call.

“What the hell?” I turn to paddle away from the seals, and an Orca splashes immediately behind the raft, sending us rocking toward land. “We’re trapped!”

The killer whales call out to each other. Hank pulls me to the side as a smaller Orca brushes the raft. “Paddle!” he says, and his voice cracks. “Fast!”

I immediately start paddling as fast I can, my heart pounding. “The whales are hunting us!”

A bark from the beach captures my attention, and I realize we’re nearing the shore. An angry elephant seal slaps the sand and yells at the whales, who swarm us from every side.

“They’re going after the weanlings,” Hank says. “If we can just get?—”

Before he finishes, an Orca dives under our raft, charging the shore. It sends Hank and I careening off the side, and I land in the cold water with a smack.

Panicked, I kick my legs and reach for Hank. A massive dark shape swims against me, practically swallowing me up with its force. I manage to scramble free and swim, thrashing wildly.

“Hank! Hank!” I yell, terrified that he’s hurt, that I’ve lost him.

A screaming elephant seal captures my attention, and when I turn, there’s blood in the water. The shock of it freezes me in place. “Hank!” I yell out again, tears streaming down my face. I see a killer whale burst onto shore, but the seal escapes.

Two arms grab me, pulling me into a tight embrace, and Hank takes me with him as we swim from the mayhem.

“You’re safe,” he says, his voice rough in my ear. “Thank god.”

I swim with him, pumping my legs and arms. When we get to shore down the beach, we grab hands and run, sprinting as fast as we can.

Hank and I collapse at the bend. I pull him into my arms and hold him, desperate to feel his body against mine.

“What the fuck,” I gasp.

Hank squeezes me back, keeping me in his embrace. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” Hank says.

We both look up. Down the beach, the killer whales are in retreat. An elephant seal nurses an injury, but seems otherwise fine. And beyond it all, the raft floats out to the ocean.

Hank’s hand lands between my shoulders. “Sorry about your raft.”

“I stand by what I said. That raft is still a testament to us.”

“Even more than before. It survived an attack by killer whales. That’s one well-constructed vessel.”

I lean against him, finding comfort and warming myself from the frigid sea. “Thanks, Hank.”

Lucky I’ve got the best guy in the world here with me, because I don’t know how many more days I’ll survive.