I glance back at the phone, but the grid is still loading. I carefully place it on top of my bag and then set about laying everything out in the sun so it can dry. I make sure to hide the vibrator inside one of my reef shoes. I’m honestly not sure why I packed that, guess I’m not really using my head during a crisis.
Once I’m done, I check my phone again. It’s loaded, showing our location.
Which shows a long blob of an island with no name. No roads or any other markings either.
It’s rather phallic looking. Rounded at one end, like two humps melded together, skinnier at the other, widening just a little at the tip.
Dong Island.
Doesn’t really matter what its real name is now—it’s Dong Island.
“What are you doing?” Lacey asks me, trudging through the sand toward me. “You have a phone?”
“Yeah, I have a phone. It’s my most prized possession.”
“You’re supposed to only pack essentials,” she says and then eyes my massive spread of clothing, looking aghast. “Daisy, did you pack your entire wardrobe?”
“No,” I reply testily. I had to leave a lot of clothes behind. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to spend days at sea in a raft wearing the same clothes and stinking up the place. And why wouldn’t I take my phone? How is that not an essential?”
“Is there a signal?”
“Does it matter?”
“What use is it then?”
I gasp. “Are you kidding? Please don’t tell me you used your phone only for phone calls.”
She narrows her eyes. “I also write emails. Which is worthless if you don’t have a connection.”
“Well for your information, the GPS on my maps works and I found the island, so there.”
I thrust my phone out and she takes it from me, peering at it.
“You’re burning, by the way,” I say, grabbing the sunscreen beside me and offering it to her.
She sighs dramatically and we swap, phone for the sunscreen.
“Why did our mother have to have such fair skin?” she whines as she slops some on.
“You saw the island, right?”
Dong Island.
“I did.” She hands me back the sunscreen and I quickly slap some on myself. “There’s no name. Nothing useful.”
“Did you zoom out though? It shows that we’re right at the bottom of the Lau Islands.”
“Tai already mentioned that.”
“Yeah, but a lot of those islands don’t look that far from here,” I tell her. “Maybe you and Richard can use Atarangi’s dingy and check them out.”
She gives me a dry look. “Want to get rid of us that bad?”
“Worth a shot,” I say, even though I know those other islands are probably hundreds of miles away.
“We need to explore this island,” she says.
Dong Island.
“I agree,” I tell her, getting to my feet. “But we should probably wait for Tai to return.”
Lacey makes an impatient huff. I have a feeling she’s trying to avoid Richard.
“Why don’t you help me make an SOS sign out of shells and stuff,” I tell her.
“You go right ahead. I’m going for a walk.”
“More fauna catch your eye?”
You can’t ignore your husband forever.
So, while she goes for another walk, I go about trying to build an SOS sign big enough to see from an airplane. Unfortunately math isn’t my strong suit.
With Lacey heading down the beach, and Tai standing on the wreck, I head back into the jungle toward “camp.”
Richard is riffling through Lacey’s bag and hanging stuff on branches.
“Hey Richard,” I say.
He jumps, lets out a high yelp.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault,” he says, hand to his chest. “With my vision limited, my senses are on overdrive attempting to compensate.”
Uh huh. “How are you feeling?”
“Still a bit of a headache but I had some water, feeling a trifle better now.” He pauses. “Where’s Lacey?” he asks lightly, trying to sound blasé.
“She’s looking at plants. Tai swam back to the boat.”
“He did!”
“It’s still there, stuck on the reef.” I peer at him. He looks a little pale. “Maybe you should get out of the bush and go get some sun or something. Nothing will dry in here.”
He gives a quick shake of his head. Probably still mad at his wife for her lying about needing glasses thing.
“You think you know someone,” he starts.
“Listen,” I say, quickly talking over him, not wanting to be dragged into their first marital quarrel. “How big do I need to make an SOS sign? Or is HELP a better option? More letters though…”
“I doubt you need to make one of those,” he says.
“They do it on all the survivor shows. Except Survivor.”
“The raft had a beacon, Tai gave the distress call, and we have a satellite phone…I just can’t seem to find the latter.”
Great.
“Look, I want to do something. How big do I make the letters?”
He sighs. “As big as you can. And SOS is a better choice, if you ask me. Though of course, if you wish to keep with the original maritime notation, you need a line placed over the SOS and—”