“You could almost imagine something hidden in those depths,” she says.
“There’s no doubt in my mind there are things hidden in those depths.”
“I mean like… mermaid kingdoms, and kings that rule with tridents. Buried treasure and the like.”
“I mean sunken ships and sea creatures.”
She smiles softly but doesn’t reply.
“We should get out of the sun,” I tell her. “Only a few minutes in direct sunlight like this, and your fair skin will scorch like a lobster.”
“Mmm, lobster,” she says, getting to her feet. “Sounds delicious. Is there lobster here?”
“Not sure,” I reply. “But I’ve caught at least a dozen types of fish.” Not during the famine, though. Not when there was no food to be found anywhere.
“Where are we?” she asks. “Do you think we’re near the Cayman Islands? That’s where we were supposed to be landing yesterday.”
Was it only yesterday?
“I have no idea,” I tell her. “What port did you sail out of?”
“Miami.”
“Are you sure?”
She looks at me quizzically. “Do you think I forgot something as simple as that?”
“No.” I don’t supply the rest of my answer, and she doesn’t push it either. I think that she was manipulated into being here. That she wasn’t left by accident. Unless she saw evidence that she actually sailed out of Miami, she could’ve been literally anywhere. I’m not above a conspiracy theory. In fact, I’m pretty damn well convinced we have good reason to be concerned.
“Let’s go over the food supplies we could stock up on,” she suggests.
“First, let’s get to the shelter and see what condition it’s in. We have to be sure Will isn’t there.”
“Do you think he might’ve gone there?”
I shrug. “No idea.” I don’t think he would, to be honest. He had to know eventually I’d make my way back there, and hopefully the guy’s scared of me.
Unless he really has become feral.
Like the rest of them.
What if she becomes like the rest of them, snarling and beyond recognition as a human? The look in their eyes when they go past human comprehension or reason…
It makes me glad the others are dead.
“How far’s the shelter?”
“Not far.”
We walk on the beach to the edge of the woods, because it’s easier walking this way but still out of direct sunlight, with the wide branches of the palm trees above us giving us shelter.
“Can you tell me about the others?”
“I will. Not now.”
She doesn’t push it. I don’t want to talk about it right now.
“I’ve never been in a place like this.”
“Has anyone?” I laugh mirthlessly. Idyllic but dangerous, the island’s like the mythological sirens, luring us in with their beauty only to have us crash to death on the rocky shores. Dangerously seductive.
“I mean like a vacation spot. My parents were very simple, and we had hardly any money. We would camp here and there, but we never went to a beach, and we never visited an island.”
“What about when you were grown up? An adult? No trips to Cancun on spring break even?”
“Nah. I was already guardian to my brother and had no time or money for anything like that.”
“I can relate to that.” I want to know how she came to be guardian of her brother, but we have time to learn more about each other. Christ, all we have is time. Endless time.
I hold the branches on a low-hanging tree in front of me so they don’t smack across her face. She ducks and follows my lead.
“How so?” she asks.
“I went straight to the Navy. But I did get to travel then. I saw some beautiful sights, much like this island.”
The memories are still coming back in wisps and glimmers.
“Oh yeah? Like where?”
We’re only a few paces off from the shelter. We both freeze at the loud, cawing sound of a bird nearby.
“What’s that?”
I shrug. There are so many birds on this island I haven’t even begun to catalog them.
“Oh! Cy! Is that passion fruit?”
I haven’t seen it here before, so it takes me by surprise. “Maybe?”
“We totally can gather this,” she says. “It’ll keep better than the more perishable foods and it nourishes.”
“Perfect.” I know enough about hunting and building fires, and even constructing a shelter, but beyond that, I’m no botanist.
“Hell, I can even maybe find some greens to make a soup.”
“Turtle soup is also an option.”
“Oh, God!” She grimaces. “Did you cook before you got here?”
I shrug. “Yeah, a little. I mean, I’ve spent enough time in the Navy, I ate what they served me. I can flip a burger and cook a steak, but a turkey dinner’s a bit beyond my field of expertise.”
“Oh, God, don’t talk about steak.” Her hand comes to her stomach and she groans.
“Tell me about it. I’d give fucking anything for a good steak right now.”
“With buttered potatoes.”
“Stop,” I groan. She laughs, then sighs. “Up ahead,” I tell her, pointing to where the shelter still stands. It’s more like a hut than anything, but we put our best efforts into it, and it’s withstood tropical rain, storms, and kept creatures out, keeping us clean and dry inside.