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Chapter seven

Weston

“ W est! Thank god you’re alive!” Bower says, surprising me as he jumps up from a swinging hammock and throws his arms around me in a huge hug.

“We were so worried,” King adds, throwing his own arms around us.

I stand there, unmoving, not sure what to make of this. I didn’t expect such a warm greeting, but I didn’t really know what to expect. Definitely not them being alive after they threw the only parachute on me and shoved me from my crashing plane.

I didn’t know why they chose to save me, but I was angry. It was a pilot's job to go down with his plane, and they had robbed me of that by going down with it instead. At least that was what I thought until I saw their yellow raft on the beach.

The second I saw it, my anger doubled, and I was ready to give them a piece of my mind. I didn’t expect them to… hug me.

I have to admit, I’m fucking happy to see they survived. I don't know them well, but I liked them. They came from money but were solid, down-to-earth men who didn’t seem to treat people differently based on their income or occupation. I slowly lift my arms and hug them back .

“I’m glad you guys made it. But I’m furious at you fucking assholes. I can’t believe you pushed me out of my own god-damned plane.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” King says, finally releasing me and stepping back.

“Why did you do it?” I ask, unable to hold back the question that’s been plaguing me for the past day.

“You didn’t deserve to die. Whoever set that bomb was after us, not you.” My eyes widen in surprise. So, they also knew it wasn’t an accident?

I finally take a moment to look around inside the treehouse. “Figures, you two end up washed up on a beach and still find suitable accommodations. Who built this?”

“We don’t know. When we got here, we walked the perimeter, confirming that it does appear to be a deserted island. Then when we started exploring the interior, we found this place. And there’s a pond and waterfall with drinkable water nearby,” King tells me as he settles on the rough-looking chair.

“That’s… convenient. You haven't seen any humans, though?” I ask, furrowing my brows as I take in the space.

“Nope, just a really friendly lemur,” Bower says, dropping to the handmade mattress on the floor.

“What are all these marks?” I ask, pointing to the small lines carved into the wall. Some are grouped in fives, but most just seem random.

“We’re not sure, could be decorative or… a way to count.”

Count what? I wonder silently. There are thousands of the little marks all over the inside of this hut.

I step up to the table and swipe my hand over it, then turn my palm over. “No dust or dirt,” I say with a frown. “I didn't see any vines creeping in here, either.”

“Why does that matter?” Bower asks.

“You think the place cleans itself?” I ask, stepping back outside and walking around the deck.

I inspected the outside of the hut, with the others following me.

“Look. Right here.” I point to a vine on the large tree trunk.

“That has clearly been cut back to stop growing towards the hut, and it looks somewhat fresh.”

“We’re not alone here,” King whispers as his gaze moves to the trees around us.

“No, I don’t think so,” I add quietly, my own eyes searching for… anything.

“We were gonna find something to eat, do you want to take a nap while we get some food? I imagine you’re pretty tired after being out in that rain all night?” King asks me. I was fucking exhausted, but there was no way I was taking a nap with someone out here, watching me.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Any idea what there is to eat here?”

“Yeah, actually, there are a lot of different fruits. Our lemur buddy left a bunch for us this morning.”

I stop in my tracks and turn around to face them. “You think a lemur left you a pile of fruit? Did you eat it?”

“Well… yeah. He had helped me crack open a coconut yesterday, so we assumed it was him,” Bower says, looking a little embarrassed.

“We ate all of it, why?” King says, looking worried.

“And you feel okay? Did it make you tired? Is that why you were asleep when I got here?”

“You think someone drugged us? Where would they even get the stuff to do that?” King says, gesturing around. “Besides, it was hours after that before we took a nap. ”

I press my lips together tightly and grunt at his reply. I’m not convinced, but I need more intel.

I climb down the rope ladder as I try not to lash out at their stupidity.

These two were gonna get themselves killed.

They were lucky they hadn’t already. My time in the Marines had taught me to study my surroundings, question everything, and be on guard.

It was clear I was going to have to use all those skills to keep us alive until we’re rescued.

And I felt somewhat hopeful about that. Bower and King are important men, unlike me.

Nobody would notice I’ve gone missing, but those two, they had Reece.

That guy was angry as hell at life, but surprisingly kind if you got to know him.

He never actually flew anywhere, but I’ve flown cargo shipments for him, or transported people, many times, and he was always there to see me off.

When the three of us left San Francisco, Reece was there to say goodbye and make sure everything went smoothly. The way he hugged his friends goodbye has me very hopeful that he won’t take their disappearance lightly. And he has the funds to put behind a search and rescue mission.

“Okay, so where should we look first?” I ask as we all stand around the small clearing.

“This way,” King says, leading us out to the path.

We pass the firepit and I frown down at it.

It’s clearly been used recently. Yeah, there are definitely other people here with us.

We’d need to watch our backs, especially since it looks like we’re pushing into their territory.

Which begged another question. Why weren’t they here, defending their home?

Were they other crash survivors, like us, or were they natives to the island ?

“There might be other homes here. There could be an entire tribe of natives living on this island. We need to keep our eyes open,” I whisper to them.

They both nod as their expressions grow concerned, their eyes scanning the surrounding trees.

I don’t want to scare them, but it would be safer if they were alert and watching for any threats. We have no idea what’s on this island.

Eventually, we make our way to the waterfall, and I’m relieved to see such a clean source of drinking water.

“We found these waterskins in the other hut, we can refill them since we’re here,” King says, pulling it from around his shoulder.

“You just… found those?” I ask to clarify. Is someone going to be mad that they stole them?

“They were sitting on a table in the middle of the room. I guess it was a little convenient, now that I think about it,” King says, frowning down at it. “Someone’s going to be upset we took these, aren’t they?”

“Maybe,” I say, my eyes sweeping the surrounding trees. “Over here.” I motion to a spot in the trees that looks thinner than the rest. “Looks like a path. It’s not as well used as the other one, but it gives us somewhere to start.”

We move quietly through the slightly overgrown path for a few minutes before King speaks. “There, see the green things? Those are guavas.” We each reach up into the tree and pluck some from the branches. I pull out my pocket knife, flick it open, and cut one in half.

“You have a knife? Thank fuck!” Bower exclaims as he watches me cut into my fruit.

“Yeah, at least we have some sort of weapon,” I murmur, my eyes continually sweeping the jungle around us. “Let’s see if there are any other fruit trees around here,” I say, and we all walk around the guava trees in different directions.

When I get to the back of them, something through the trees catches my attention, and I push through a couple large plants aside to get to it.

“Fuck,” Bower curses, coming up behind me.

“Is that…” King’s voice trails off, unable to say it.

“A grave,” I say, finishing for him.

Someone has obviously been buried in the ground in front of us. The grave itself isn’t too noticeable, and it’s clearly been here for a long time. But there is no denying the wooden cross at the head of the raised ground.

“Is there something on it?” Bower asks as I move closer to look at the worn words on the cross. I lean down and rub some of the dirt off it, trying to read out the carved words. “There doesn’t seem to be a name. It just says ‘ beloved father’ .”

“When did he die?” King asks, staring down at the cross. I move some more dirt to get a better look.

“It doesn’t have a date.”

They lean in to look for themselves.

“Do you think this is the person who built the hut?” Bower asks.

“Maybe, but the bigger question is who buried them, and where are they now?”