Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

ELLIOT

Hank fusses with the stacks of wood, focusing on them like they’re a puzzle while gray clouds float through the sky above us.

We made it nearly back to the crown of the island before we picked this high spot, and still, there’s no sign of a search party.

I’ve been hauling sticks for the past hour with occasional breaks to relieve my stomach distress, focusing the best I can on the fire I insisted we make.

At least we found the cattail shoots, which we’ve each strapped to our feet with fabric. The fibrous plant takes some of the impact from each wobbly step and dulls the pain.

The temperature is dipping as wind tosses across the water and night creeps closer. But the view from this flat spot is amazing, and I’ve even seen a bald eagle soar by a few times, which helps me ignore how hungry and weak I am.

“I think the fuel is set to go,” Hank says carefully, walking along the three stacks we’ve made. “Now we just need to move rocks.”

I stand up from my spot on the ground. “Rocks? That sounds heavy.”

He frowns. “We need to make a barrier. So the fire doesn’t spread.”

I can’t believe Hank is seriously talking about moving rocks right now.

We’ve been getting along fine enough as we work on the fires. He told me about bald eagles while we worked, and I told him about the techno music resurgence, which made him briefly geek out about old music he loves, more animated than I’ve seen him yet.

Naturally, he’s quickly returned to stern determination.

He’s actually pretty funny and impressively quick-witted. In the right circumstances, we could probably get along.

Rocks, though?

“Sounds like an unnecessary use of our energy.” I say, trying to reason on his level.

Hank rubs the back of his head. He’s sweated enough that his white t-shirt is a little see-through again, which is a look he pulls off, sexy without realizing it.

“We’re already in an emergency situation,” he says. “A forest fire would not help.”

“It would possibly get us rescued even faster.”

He tightens his heavy brow.

“Okay, I retract that.” I try to negotiate. “There are a million useful things we could do. Like finding more edible plants, since you keep looking dizzy.”

“Oh.” Hank rubs the back of his head. “Wow. I’m so focused on the task at hand, I forgot about food. And shelter.” He gives me a determined nod. “That’s right. Food and then rocks. And, before dark, shelter.”

I force an optimistic smile, although it’s getting harder to summon. Neither of us has mentioned that the clouds are getting darker and bigger, either.

“How about food and fire,” I suggest as my stomach gurgles. “Maybe mushrooms over the fire? And then home free.”

Hank doesn’t cave. “The risk of a forest fire is a reality whether we acknowledge it or not.”

My emotions wobble, hunger and exhaustion catching up to me.

“Okay. The risk of starvation is real, too. And poisonous snakes. And scary island monsters. But we have a limited amount of energy available to help us navigate these risks, and I honestly don’t think I’m strong enough to move rocks. Can we just light the fire and get rescued?”

Hank grunts. “Scary island monsters are not a real risk.”

I close my eyes, fighting the need to run off and drop my pants again. “I know that,” I tell him, my voice pinched, and open my eyes. “But Hank, seriously. I don’t have it in me to move rocks.”

Hank gives me a sympathetic nod, his resolve softening. “You’re probably dehydrated from all the digestive distress. Maybe you should rest by the creek and sip water while I gather rocks.”

He might be right about the dehydration, but I don’t want him to do all the work. Hank even warned me about the boat water.

I might be projecting because he works at my father’s accounting firm, but I don’t want Hank to see me the way my father sees me. I want to be his partner in this and pull my own weight, not the fuck-up who keeps getting us in trouble and needing to rest.

“I’m okay,” I tell him. “I think my stomach issues are passing.”

My belly gurgles.

Hank gives me a skeptical look, but nods. “We should both drink more water first,” he says.

We start off to the creek. Hank strides forward with uneven steps, and I drag myself along behind him.

“I wonder if any of the planes we’ve seen are from our search party,” I say.

“I think they’ve all been commercial aircraft,” he says. “Our search party will fly low. They’re probably working methodically from the path of the casino boat.” Hank pauses. “Oh, look at that! More mushrooms.”

I lean against a tree while he walks into some shrubs.

“This protein should do us yoww !”

Hank stumbles out of the bushes, clutching his hand to his chest. “Fuckity fuck!”

“Oh no!” I step forward, clenching my ass as my stomach twists. “What happened?”

He sucks on the back of his hand and spits on the ground. “Something bit me.” He sucks his hand again, looking aghast. “Ow!” he says, affronted.

I gently take his hand to see. There’s a red welt growing right beneath his knuckles. When I let out a sympathetic hum, he squeezes my hand lightly.

“That looks bad. Did you see what it was?”

He removes his hand to suck on the bite again. “No idea. But it smarts like hell.”

“Would it help to rinse it off in the creek?”

“More reason to hydrate,” he mumbles, wincing slightly. “I’ll keep myself calm to slow my heart beat. Knowing our luck, there’s probably venom pumping in my veins.”

We start walking slowly again, Hank holding his hand above his head and breathing with steady, intentional huffs as I wobble and focus on retaining my guts.

“That plane really can’t come fast enough,” I say as brightly as I can, and a cattail shoot falls from my foot.

Hank snorts. “Hopefully before the venom drives me insane.”

“Is that really a concern?”

He shakes his head. “Almost certainly not.”

We get to the creek and both plop down. I put my face in the water and drink, and the cool liquid soothes me, the relief a momentary distraction. When I look up, Hank is staring at his hand.

I’m dizzy and a little confused, but I do my best to take stock.

Hank is down one hand, which means I need to step up.

My stomach distress slows me down, but I can still move.

I can’t undo any of the mistakes that got us here, but I can make sure I contribute to our rescue during these last few hours.

Standing weakly, I gather my resolve. “I can recognize the violets and mushrooms,” I tell him. “Why don’t you rest and take care of your hand. I’ll forage quickly, and when you’re ready, we can get back to the fire. With luck, we’ll have it done before we need to find shelter.”

It feels good to say that. I’m a man with a plan, too.

Before he can answer, though, a crack of thunder rolls through the sky, echoing across the island.

Hank’s eyes widen. “Damn it.”

I look up and see the dark clouds rolling steadily our way.

“Shit,” I agree.

“The wood,” Hank says as he pushes himself to his feet. “If it rains, the wood will be too wet to ignite.”

Like an answer to Hank, I hear the sound of rain hitting the sea in the distance, and my stomach sinks.

“What do we do?” I ask, my thoughts disintegrating. “Do we cover it with leaves or something?”

Distressed, Hank shakes his head. “We need cover from the storm for ourselves.” A sudden gust of wind shakes the trees. “Damn it! I should have insisted on finding shelter earlier.”

My brain races. “There was a cliff. A little overhang. I saw it near one of my poop spots.”

Hank wrinkles his nose.

“It’s not at the poop spot,” I insist. “It’s just near the poop spot.”

The first sheet of rain arrives, and we both jump into action. “Take us to the cliff!” Hank says, and we’re off.

We scurry back toward the pyramids of wood, and I search my memory, trying to recall exactly where to go. Hank was right; we should have found shelter earlier. Once again, we should have listened to him, and everything is my fault.

I stumble, and Hank grabs my side with his good hand, supporting me as we scurry down the incline and rain begins to fall.

We come to the spot I noticed. There’s a jagged crag, and beneath, enough space to crouch under the mossy rock.

“Thank god,” Hank says as he releases me. We stumble underneath, and I lean against the rocky wall, catching my breath.

Wind whips through the air as the rain picks up, but only a rare spritz of water makes it to us. Unfortunately, we’re both soaked through already, and darkness has arrived with the storm.

“At least we have somewhere dry,” I say, fighting a shiver. “Sorry I made us prioritize the fire.”

Hank gives me a tired look. His brain is obviously saying I told you so, but he’s kind enough to keep it to himself. He sits back against the rock, gently shaking his bit hand. “Why wouldn’t there be another storm?” he grumbles.

I get down beside him, frustrated with myself and the situation. “Looks like a big one.”

Thunder crashes again, and lightning illuminates the forest, making me wonder what else is out there tonight, what creatures stirring.

Hank swallows, and a chill goes down my spine. “What do we do?” I ask, eager to defer to his expertise. “Hide? Do we need to treat your hand?”

Hank looks at his hand, and I see that it’s puffing up, the bite inflamed.

“Typically, I’d want to wash this and take an antihistamine, but that’s clearly out of the picture.” He closes his eyes. “My heartbeat is normal. That’s good.” When he opens his eyes again, he looks at me, and some concern softens his expression. “How are you feeling? Your stomach any better?”

I put my hand on my belly. “A little. But I’m scared because an invisible mystery creature attacked you, and I’m also starving and freezing to death, so it’s hard to tell.”

Hank strokes the back of his hand. “Best we can both do now is stay calm and wait the storm out.”

I nod, trying to take his advice, although another rumble of thunder reminds me of nearly dying on the raft, inspiring a fresh wave of fear.

When I look at Hank, I see that there’s a drop of water on the tip of his nose. He’s haggard and terrified, but something about the drop of water helps me feel a little bit better.

“Yeah,” I agree softly. “We should try to rest.”

Hank doesn’t relax at all, and neither do I. I see him shiver, and I shiver, too.

“We need to get out of our wet clothes,” Hank murmurs, but he doesn’t move.

I don’t wait in pulling off my t-shirt.

He still doesn’t move.

“Hank?” I ask.

He blinks like he’s coming back to reality. “Right. What?”

Shit. I think he’s finally crashed.

I crawl over to him. “Give me your shirt,” I say, pulling it up as I try to take it off. That snaps Hank back to reality, and he lets out a surprised laugh as he gently pushes me away. “Okay, I got it,” he says.

He pulls his t-shirt off, and I take it from him. I kick off my filthy dress pants, too, and spread them out on the rocks. When I turn, Hank has his pants in his hands, and he nervously shoves them to me.

I’m in my favorite pink briefs, and he’s in a slightly loose pair of gray boxer briefs that go halfway down his thigh, and that fail to hide the heavy weight of his dick.

It’s important that I don’t think about the fact that Hank is apparently hung. I’ll just have that information, and I’ll know it going forward, but it will be something that I don’t ever think about. Totally chill.

Hank leans back, huddling from the rain again, and pulls his knees up. I get next to him and find a comfortable spot as we watch the growing storm.

Lightning explodes somewhere over the water.

“Lie down with me,” I tell him. “We’ll cuddle and keep each other warm.”

Hank looks at me and nods slowly. “Okay. But I need to keep my hand elevated.”

We get horizontal on the hard ground, the dry dirt beneath us. Hank and I lie almost touching for a moment before I wiggle closer to him.

“For warmth,” I murmur, and Hank turns, getting behind me. He puts his arm over my chest, holding me with his hand on my shoulder.

“How’s this?”

His body is sturdy and warm, and I immediately wiggle closer, chasing away the chill of the storm. His musky scent goes to my brain.

We settle into an embrace.

“Good,” I say, my voice dry.

It’s a relief to be held, even as I know he’s frustrated with me after I stopped us from finding a better shelter.

We’re stuck on the island. I’m hungry and tired and cold, and branches are whipping menacingly in the wind around us.

It absolutely sucks, but at least I have a decent guy to hold onto.