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Island

By: A_Satori



copyright ©2008 All rights reserved.

(Author's note: This is an adventure/love story.)

PART 1 -- REVIEWING IT ALL

CHAPTER 1

He flexed his palms against the back of his head and kept staring at the endless blue above him. The smooth, dark gray rock beneath him was becoming too warm. He would have to move into the shade soon. He wished he had some sunscreen, something in SPF 1000 if it existed. He had gotten burnt badly when they first hit the island. Everyone had. 

He wondered what Cheryl was doing and thinking, right... now. It was a momentary mind game he played once in a while that was was on the verge of being worn out. It was the reason he had probably thought more often about her since reaching the island than he had for any other, what was it? Six weeks? Seven weeks? Than any other seven week period of their four year marriage, no, actually just the past three years. He must have thought about her fairly often the first year they were married. 

He realized sometime after the first week on the island, that he should have told her it was over months ago. He wished with all his heart that he had, maybe have told her to coincide with his early retirement from teaching. Downsizing had hit academia. The first cut backs had been in the Art Department. He had twenty-one years of service. The deal wasn't bad, or so he thought at the time. He could retire at 45, and start collecting the retirement annuity immediately, including health insurance. It wasn't a large monthly check, but it was enough to get by, plus he had saved almost every penny he could during those twenty-one years. 

He had gotten close to marrying a few times, but Cheryl was his first wife. He was her second husband. She had been widowed. Brian's will had included guardianship over his daughter, Cheryl's stepdaughter, Ann. He used to joke with Cheryl sometimes about how he had a step-stepdaughter, or a stepdaughter once removed. Ann was a very pretty girl, maybe a little wild from what he could tell living in the same house with her the last two years of her high school education. Then it was only Thanksgiving, and the Christmas and summer semester breaks. 

He had wondered if she'd attend the university where he and Cheryl taught. She had vehemently said she wasn't going to college in town no matter how big a break it would be on tuition. He was glad she had chosen a different college. He had realized near her high school graduation that she had too hot of a bod for him not to start thinking about her day and night. Over his twenty years of teaching, he had short lived affairs with a handful of his students. He liked sleek youthful bodies, but then again, what man didn't?

Yeah, he should have told Cheryl it was over before this "adventure trip of a lifetime" ever came up. He didn't because he hadn't really cared. He had a lousy marriage and just went with the flow for the most part because he just didn't give a damn, about his marriage and most everything else, including his art. He knew part of the reason, maybe the main reason he had decided to take the early retirement was that he was burnt out as a teacher, and completely dried up as a artist. 

His art had been mediocre at best, but he had made a few pieces over the years that he actually thought were good. Works that actually had something worthwhile to say, and at times, he even thought a few of those had also advanced art in general. He only thought the latter at infrequent times though, because in his heart he had known it was all bullshit. There are no glimpses of genius from a mediocre mind and mediocre hand. The rest of the art faculty and all the other artists he personally knew had the same problem of mediocrity. Not being alone in that had never been a source of solace for him.

Right before he retired, what was that? Five months... no six months ago, he had thought retirement might be what their marriage needed. He had envisioned himself thinking about screwing Cheryl every minute of the day, because he had guessed he'd be bored as hell. He had known he wasn't going to be setting up a studio at the house right away, if ever. During that last year teaching he hadn't drawn a line or made a brush stroke unless it had been a goddamn demo for some course he had been teaching. 

Well, that passionate sex had never happened. What did happened was very intense beating off. At the end of the first month twiddling his thumbs he had walked to campus one morning and sat in the library for nearly five hours. A book on his lap in which he hadn't read a word. His eyes had been scanning every coed who walked in through the main entrance. He just sat there looking, didn't talk to any of them, didn't even consider talking with any of them. Just looked and undressed them with his eyes. A few had shot him angry looks. One had smiled at him. 

He began doing that three or four times a week. He was eventually on a first name basis with the circulation desk clerk. He would sit in various locations in the library, usually high traffic areas, around the elevators, the reference floor, and the snack room. Once in a while he'd doodle drawings of pussies in a notebook. Sometimes he'd count the girls he seriously gazed at and would figure out the percentage of those he would definitely have screwed given half a chance. He'd ususally make his way back to the house with enough time before Cheryl came home to fuck his hand at least once but usually twice. After a couple months that had gotten boring too. There were only three times during those months that he had seriously considered approaching some hot chick and see where things led, but he had always stayed in his library chair. 

He had then joined a gym, not a big one, just a small workout place that was associated with an orthopedist's office. He had exercised with free weights beginning in high school and continuing through the two decades of teaching. He thought it was to keep his body in shape for his infrequent sculpting periods and doing what he called the 'construction guy' aspects of making art. It had made him physically feel good too. He liked being slim and having his muscles defined, and to have the strength for those jobs that required some physical strength. He gave it up at the end of the third year of his marriage, when he realized that maybe it had always been nothing more than a vain attempt to hold onto his youth. 

He picked it up religiously again, working out six days a week in a futile effort to stop thinking about fucking girls half his age, and to get back into shape for whatever was to come in his retirement. He had also vaguely hoped that maybe as he toned up, he would want to screw Cheryl more. He might have more energy and want to use a fit body more, and somehow that would put some excitement back in the relationship; and after the excitement returned, maybe the sensation of love would follow. 

Of course none of that regarding Cheryl ever happened, although the long hours at the gym did get him into good shape within a couple months, his abdomen even had the look of a six pack sometimes, at least before eating a meal. In fact he was probably in the best shape he had ever been.

Yeah, he should have told her it was over long before her idea of taking this trip. He grinned as he wondered what he might be doing at this very moment if he had told her it was over. Undoubtedly it would be nothing of value. He had guts all his life, but when his art went dry, his intestinal fortitude had also disappeared. He figured now, as he had when Cheryl brought up this tropical adventure, that it was her attempt to get their marriage back on the tracks. He had finally agreed to it because it was going to be his final attempt to do the same. 

Thinking back now, it seemed odd that she had even wanted to try. He was sure by then that neither of them loved the other and definitely were not "in love" at all. Maybe she really had been hoping for something to happen within both of them, something that would make love and lust blossom again. He knew and guessed she knew too, that nothing can grow without some solid soil around the roots. Well, that wasn't true either. He had seen more than enough orchids around the island to know that soil wasn't necessary. He shook his head. He was too tired to think up a better metaphor. What did it matter anyway?

Yeah, what was Cheryl doing right... now? Maybe she was sitting on the bed. He wondered what her face would look like if he walked into the room and said hi. Would she shit? Scream? Laugh? Jump for joy? Would she just say she was sorry for insisting they go on this tropical adventure? 

And jeezuz, she had insisted. It was going to be the opportunity of a lifetime. It wouldn't cost terribly much, just sharing the cost of the boat lease and supplies. He would just love Barb and Jeff too, her longtime and close friends in Florida. Both of them had sailed all their lives, had taken long voyages, Jeff had been a member of the crew on a boat that had sailed to Europe and back, and he had sailed throughout the Hawaiian Islands during three summers when he was in college. 

They would have to be part of the crew but it would be fun. Ann was also invited and could bring a girlfriend if she wanted, and there was another couple who would crewing too, with their daughter, plus Barb and Jeff's daughter and a few of her friends. The girls would share a large cabin, and each of the married couples would have their own little private cabin during the voyage from Honolulu to Sydney, Australia. Of course they'd be making stops at various islands along the way. Cheryl wasn't scheduled to teach any courses for the summer. It would be just perfect! 

The rock had definitely heated up too much. He got up and moved over to the gnarled tree. He looked at the trunk and around the ground for any centipedes or scorpions before sitting down and leaning his back against it. He wondered again what species it was. He rested his forearms on his knees.



Yeah, Cheryl had been excited and a good saleswoman about the goddamn tropical adventure. He had eventually become interested, but mentioned some of his concerns, the first one being that he was a terrible swimmer and could barely do two lengths in a good sized pool. Cheryl had quickly dismissed that, saying salt water was easier to swim in and in heavy weather he would wear a life vest like those everyone wears riding sea doos. 

He told her having a bunch of teenaged girls on a boat might be like they were chaperoning a Girl Scout troop. Cheyl had said they were all college aged. Ann would be twenty when they left. He asked if there'd be any guys on the trip the same age as the girls. Cheryl was fairly sure it would only be girls, and then asked why he wanted to know. He said he had this image of waiting at some port for the guys to return from balling some local native babes. She told him not to be ridiculous, and then when he returned to the chaperoning a bunch of girls complaint, she had pointed out that Ann and all the other females her age were not girls, but young women. 

After some thought during his hours pushing iron, he had finally agreed and had become somewhat excited too. He had hoped the voyage and experiences might be fodder for some future art, huge canvases of saturated bright colors had entered his mind at the time, although no images within those colors. If the trip wasn't good for their marriage, maybe it would be for his art.

They had arrived in Honolulu on June 1, for a week of daily instructional "shakedown" cruises before they started out on the "adventure voyage," June 8. 

On June 7, while he and Cheryl were trying to have at least somewhat hot sex the last night in their hotel room, the phone had rung and Cheryl had abruptly halted the project at hand which wasn't anything anyone would call 'hot,' saying that Barb had told her she'd call if any weather problem might delay the start in the morning. It hadn't been Barb on the phone, but Cheryl's sister. Their mother had a heart attack and the doctors said the next few days would be critical, she might pull through, or they had implied, she might die. 

He and Cheryl had talked after that. Obviously, Cheryl was going to take the first plane to Florida. She would call Barb, explain the situation, then, pray to God, her mother would improve and when the worst was past, Cheryl would fly back and meet up with the boat at the first island port that was serviced by a regular commercial airline. She said she didn't want to ruin the trip for Ann and him. 

He offered to go back with her, but she had said that even though he had no experience sailing, that Jeff and Barb definitely needed him on the boat. In fact Barb had told her that he was fast learner on their short "shakedown" day excursions. He had only seen Cheryl's mother a half dozen times. He liked her but he didn't feel any real connection to her, and, it seemed, Ann didn't feel much of a connection to the old woman either. Ann had been an older child by the time Cheryl married her father. Ann had never called Cheryl's mother "grandma" nor had she ever called Cheryl "Mom." He had thought the way the sex had been going with Cheryl for the week they had been in the hotel, it really didn't mattered to him that she'd miss part of the voyage. 

It was somewhat funny now, but at the time he hadn't given the gaggle of "young women" a thought. He had imagined just going to sleep alone in the little cabin, without any hassle, without any concerns about having any possible sex, or even worse, some discussion with Cheryl about their marriage or their future. He had agreed with her, saying her plan seemed the most logical course, especially after she had also pointed out that they couldn't ask Barb and Jeff for a refund, she just couldn't do that.

It wasn't until the next day after Oahu had sunk below the horizon that Jeff mentioned if Cheryl couldn't make it back within eight days or so, it would be another month before he saw her again. It would take that long to reach another island that had an airport that handled large commercial airliners. Her mother hadn't improved much during those eight days.

It was about three weeks later the storm hit.

When the sky had begun to darken in late afternoon, and the waves had started rising, Jeff had told him that it was going to be something they'd all remember the rest of their lives. Jeff had grinned at him with his eyes afire, apparently with the thought of a true man against the sea competition. 

He knew his own face hadn't been anything like that, because Jeff's hand had clapped his back when he said it really wasn't going to be that bad according to the reports they were getting over the radio. It would be exciting enough though to be a great memory and a decent challenge. There really wasn't anything to worry about. 

Jeff had then told him a list of things he had better get started on, punctuated by a laugh, adding it was good he already had on his life vest. Jeff told him to get a couple of the girls to help him on deck and to make sure everyone was hooked to a lifeline. Jeff laughed again at whatever his own expression had been. At the time, the boat was cresting and pitching on rolling waves somewhat severely, but at that point he had only been very concerned, not scared shitless.

When he got below, he discovered two of the eight "young women" vomiting into buckets. A couple of the other girls looked scared if not terrified, and the rest were either busying themselves picking up items that were sliding on shelves and dropping to the floor, or looking excited, some even laughing, talking about how they'd be able to tell so and so that they had been in a storm at sea. 

Maybe to hide his own fears he had smiled and then asked for two volunteers to go on deck to ready the boat for the storm. He remembered tossing in a couple recently learned nautical terms in his request, hoping that would make the scared or puking girls less afraid, possibly make them believe there was another guy on the boat who knew what the hell he was doing. Of course it wouldn't have fooled Barb and Jeff's daughter, Amy, but she was already on deck helping her mother. 

Ann and Samantha, "Sam," had volunteered. He had gotten the life lines from the storage cabinet and clipped a line to each of the girls' vests. When they went above, he had been surprised how much higher the waves had gotten in such a short period of time. Sea water was sloshing onto the deck periodically. 

Barb went below to man the radio. He saw Bob and Bob's wife, Deb, in the stern doing something hurriedly back there. Jeff was shouting at them once in a while, just to be heard above the wind and waves. Jeff's daughter and another girl were manning the two sail winches, paying very close attention to Jeff's commands. He, Ann, and Sam, clipped onto the lifeline cable, and then did the chores Jeff wanted done. Most of it was securing things down or storing various things below. 

When he was moving the last item below, Jeff had shouted for him to come over. He told him to check with Barb about the weather, and then to relieve the girl who was on the sail winch. He had gone below and was getting the weather information from Barb when they heard an odd sound on deck. Barb had known immediately what it was -- the radio antenna had been blown down. He had hurried along the narrow corridor to the ladder to get above to see what help was needed. 

As he opened the hatch sea water had gushed in and pushed him off the ladder slamming him to the floor. For a moment he had been terrified, thinking the boat had somehow capsized. Barb had come running to him to see if he was injured, then as she stepped onto the ladder to close the hatch another wave had washed in and thrown her down on top of him. A couple of the girls below had seen it and started screaming hysterically. Barb had virtually jumped straight up from his body to the handle of the hatch and slammed it shut. 

She had asked again if he was injured and he said he was fine. Barb said she would settle the girls down. He wondered if she might have more pressing things to do. He got up and saw that Barb was doing both, trying to calm the growing hysteria, and looking in a storage closet. He was much more careful opening the hatch, got above, snapping his lifeline on the cable immediately after shoving the hatch closed. He made the relatively short distance to Jeff grabbing every handhold he could along the way. He told Jeff what he had probably already known, that the radio wasn't working anymore. Jeff nodded. 

He then asked Jeff for "orders." He had actually used that word, not that he was fantasizing he was in some film about the navy but with the wind screaming and waves crashing he hadn't wanted to use a lot of words. Jeff said they had to get the radio working, a temporary antenna needed to be put up. Just then Barb came on deck with a coiled cable. Jeff had shouted at him to help her.

Both on lifelines, he and Barb moved down to the highest mast. They secured the antenna cable to the mast rope and then he started pulling the rope which was looped around a pulley on top of the mast, and started raising the temporary antenna. Barb coiled the rope as he pulled, and made sure the coiled antenna cable didn't get kinked as it went up the mast. The boat angled up to breach another a wave. When the boat crested it was hit by a rogue wave coming in broadside. In an instant, he had almost been washed to the edge of the deck and probably would have been if he hadn't grabbed a handhold. When the water disappeared he turned around to Barb intending to say something like "Holy shit!" He would have, but she wasn't there. 

That was the first moment of true terror for him in a sequence of terrors. He stupidly dropped the rope in his hands, grabbed whatever he could as handholds as he made his way to the edge of the deck. He saw Barb's lifeline straining over the rope railing. The lifelines weren't supposed to be able to get passed the railing. He had instantly feared his line was also too long. He grabbed Barb's line with one hand and kept his other hand gripping a handhold. He turned towards Jeff at the wheel. He shouted as loud as he could but Jeff didn't see nor hear him. 


Island



Of all the people in the world, I probably would've chosen any little group besides the people from the office to get marooned with. They weren't bad people, just annoying ones.

Will, Frank, and Jeff were all brothers; that was a mistake right there. You shouldn't work with family, at least not if you're gonna spend all day arguing over football and whose turn it was to pick up mom. The problem was, all three of the brothers were bulky football players themselves, so nobody'd ever had the balls to tell them to shut up. I guess you could say it was lucky that we'd never pissed them off, though, now that we were stranded here. The rest of us weren't exactly Sylvester Stallone.

One guy was named Sylvester, though. The girls considered him tall, dark, and handsome, and he was the company pilot--as of today. Some job he'd done. His little Cessna looked like it was gonna fall apart in the parking lot, but the fact that he'd managed to land it in the parking lot without hitting any cars made us feel a little better. I guess he thought showing off was more important than filling up the gas.

The boss, Rick, died in the crash. Nobody cried. Jeff took his wallet.

There wasn't much for eye candy, either. Charlotte was thin, but her chest was flat, and she died her hair bright colors and dressed up like anime characters. She didn't wear the costumes to work, but she kept the hair. It was just too weird for me, although I guess Will liked it.

Then there was the fat secretary, Maribel. I wouldn't say it like that, but Charlotte told me Maribel fantasizes about me. Apparently those two are friends; Maribel always complained to me about how Charlotte was trying to get her to die her hair, but she liked it black.

There was a black chick, too--Tia--she was hot, but she got killed too. The rest of us just jumped out and ran when the plane hit the ground; she tried to see if Rick was still alive, and that's when the plane blew up.

There was one pearl left among the gravel: Stacy. She was a bit of a Barbie, true, but come on. They make them that way for a reason. And she liked me, too. We usually flirted at work. We were both single, but I guess I was kinda wrapped up in the job, and I didn't want to seem desperate. Well, we were all desperate now.

Stranded on an uncharted island? Seriously? Okay, well, we didn't really know if it was "uncharted" or not, but there was definitely nobody there--we waited all day by the crash site, and nobody came to investigate--so we figured it was better to find shelter and stuff than wait around for boats or planes that weren't coming.

We were lucky to find a stream pretty close to the wrecked plane. We drank our fill, and then decided to split up and search the island, meeting back at the stream. The sun was getting ready to set, so we needed to cover a lot of ground, but it was obviously a dangerous plan, so we agreed to go in pairs. Stacy wanted to go with me. I was a little surprised, but happy about it.

"I'll feel safer with you, Mark," she said. The three brothers chortled at this, thinking--rightly enough--that I wouldn't be much help against wild animals compared to them, but I didn't care what they thought. Stacy was coming with me.

* * *

The further we went into the jungle, the more I couldn't help rolling my eyes at the clichéd nature of it. A tropical island. Uninhabited, presumably uncharted. We were survivors of a plane crash, doomed to finish our lives here, away from all we'd known. This didn't happen in real life. At every turn, I was half-expecting Gilligan to jump out at us and shout, "You're on Candid Camera!" My references were a bit outdated, but so was this cliché. Besides, I was hungry and tired, not used to this kind of exercise, and the humidity made it feel like I was walking through pudding. I almost was, too, with the mud.

Stacy seemed in better shape than me--I guess she must've had to work out to maintain that figure--but she clearly wasn't used to the outdoors. Still, there wasn't much either of us could do but trudge on.

The stream, as it turned out, hadn't been a mere lucky break: the island was full of them. We passed three more in the first hour. And as a result, the plant life flourished--including banana, coconut, mango, and even lemon trees. They were sure to be full of seeds and not as shiny as the ones in the supermarket, but at least the two most basic necessities would be easy to fulfill. That made our primary goal finding shelter.

I didn't like the idea of a cave--after all, something else would probably already be living in it, and the mossy jungle floor would probably be more comfortable--but after three hours, now stumbling around in only starlight, I was beginning to understand that, clichéd or not, this really was a life-threatening situation. Stacy had been clinging to my arm since the sun set, even though that made it harder to tread through the jungle, and we were both relieved to find the convenient little cavern. I didn't even roll my eyes at it, not wanting to provoke it into turning out to be a mirage.

I threw rocks inside repeatedly until Stacy told me to get going, there was obviously nothing in there. This fortunately proved to be true--there were bugs, but those were everywhere, and we didn't find anything big like a bear or smaller like a snake. The cave was in the side of a big rock formation; it was above ground level, the floor being rock too, which meant it would be as uncomfortable as I'd predicted, but at least we would be kind of elevated in case it rained.

"I guess we'll have to meet up with the others tomorrow," I said.

"You should make a fire," said Stacy.

"I dunno how."

"Weren't you ever a boy scout or anything?"

"No."

She sighed, and looked for a place to sit down. It wasn't that big of a cave, but the floor was uneven, and she found a sort of protrusion to use as a chair. Or more of a stool. I just sat down where I was. Even without a fire, the tropical climate kept us relatively warm. I started to think that maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Food, water, warmth, and now a cave. Not high-class living, but we were no longer in immediate danger.

* * *

It turned out to be impossible to tell which stream we had intended to meet the others at, and after realizing this, we turned around and made sure we could find our way back to the cave. We waited to see if any of them would find us there, but nobody showed up. We ate fruit and drank from the nearest stream, now fearful of venturing too far from the cave. After a week passed, however, I had grown familiar with the surrounding area.

I wanted to explore further, but Stacy remained afraid of leaving. She frequently complained about the cave, but clung to it as her home. I suggested that I go out scouting alone, but she didn't want me to leave her by herself. Eventually, however, she allowed it, growing ever more frustrated with her imprisonment on the island.

So I habitually explored more of the jungle around the cave, slowly increasing my mental map of the island. I still couldn't figure out which stream would lead back to the plane crash, though, and I never saw any of the others.

For me, time began flying by, as I was constantly engaged in either seeking out new parts of the jungle or collecting food from the more familiar parts. Stacy always stayed behind, and continually grew more irritable. I suggested she accompany me on my hikes, but she would just give me nasty looks.

I probably just wasn't used to having to remember the lay of the land like this--well, I know I wasn't--but it seemed to be quite a big island, or at least, I never found my way to the beach. I was sure now, though, that it really was uninhabited--I hadn't seen a single piece of garbage anywhere. Maybe I would find some stuff on the beach washed up by the sea, but in the jungle, there were no signs of people.

There were animals, of course, and some of them were dangerous--I got chased by wild boars a couple times--but there didn't seem to be any big predators like bears or tigers or whatever. Nothing that would really eat humans. Not live ones, anyway--there were vultures to pick off the dead, but the rest of the birds were small and colorful.

Being marooned had seemed a grim and clichéd situation in the beginning, but I was starting to feel settled in and enjoying the tropical atmosphere and exercise. If I gathered enough food for two days, then I could take the next day off and just lie around. I missed TV and being able to shower, but really, my job had been hell, and this was the vacation that I deserved. Funny how that had worked out--company flight and all.

Stacy didn't agree with me. She wanted off this damn island, but she remained too scared of getting eaten to go very far from the cave, and when she finally accepted that I was telling the truth about not having seen any sign of native people or the others, she didn't speak for a couple days. Oh well, I thought, she'd come around eventually.

* * *

Unfortunately, I started finding it hard to maintain my positive attitude. It wasn't just Stacy's griping, either. Our clothes got more tattered every day, and seeing her half-naked, I started having trouble controlling my sex drive. Stacy may have been interested in me before, but she was clearly not "in the mood" while stuck in the cave, and with each passing week, though I knew I should've been more mature, I found it harder not to pine for the day her libido would catch up to mine. I started constructing elaborate fantasies about how it would take place, and during my daily expeditions, I couldn't help making covert use of a banana peel once in a while.

I don't know how much time passed, but it must've been a lot. The island seemed to go by the "rainy season vs. dry season" cycle instead of the four-fold one I was accustomed to, but the rainy season came and went, so I guess it was more than half a year. Stacy was still grumpy, and I was still horny--more so because by now we'd discarded the shreds of our clothes completely. I was also mad at myself that I was letting something like this ruin what I'd been enjoying before.

Then one morning when I woke up, Stacy asked me, "Hey, Mark, do you wanna fuck me?"

"Uh--what?" I asked, trying vainly to hide my morning erection.

"Look," she said, "I guess we're stuck here. And even if we're living in a cave, we're still living together. So we might as well make it official. The thing is, if we ever do get off this island, people are gonna talk. This way, nobody can call me a slut."

"Uh . . . what?" I asked again.

"Here's what you do," she continued. "Go out in the jungle and find something pretty to propose to me with. Then we can consummate the marriage. That way, it's on my terms. I'm sure you wanna fuck me anyway, huh?"

"Uh . . . y . . . yeah . . ." I said sheepishly.

"Well, go find me something nice," she said.

This was certainly not how I'd imagined it would happen. And she was still thinking about getting off the island? Oh well; it was still what I'd been waiting for.

My heart was pounding when I entered the jungle. The anticipation was already killer, and it hadn't been five minutes. I didn't know what kind of object she wanted--something shiny, I guessed. I tried to clear my head for the task. If I brought something she didn't like, she might change her mind.

It took me two hours, but I finally found a glittery rock in one of the streams. Actually, it looked like gold, and since nobody'd been on the island, it could have been, but I didn't know how to be sure. Anyway, it would probably do. It took another half hour to get back to the cave.

But Stacy wasn't there. I went inside, and it was empty; this was a bad sign. Even when she went outside, she always stayed within sight of the cave. I would have to go look for her, but I had no idea where to start. I looked for footprints, but after we'd been living there so long, they were all over. I picked a random direction and went back into the jungle, leaving the gold rock in the cave.

Needless to say, my sexual side was cursing everything, and it probably fueled my efforts more than my concern for Stacy's safety, I'm embarrassed to admit. I pushed through the jungle angrily, but found nothing for an hour. I stopped by a stream to drink and try to calm myself down; I sat still, and eventually my breathing slowed. The jungle hummed quietly around me.

After about fifteen minutes, I heard some rustling nearby--it sounded like something coming my way. I shifted slightly, ready to get up, but waited to see what it was.

Downstream, someone emerged from the trees--a person--not just a person, a woman. It wasn't Stacy: having stayed in the cave so much, she'd remained recognizably white; this woman's skin was tanned. I almost mistook her for Stacy, though, because she was also naked, and her figure surprisingly resembled Stacy's. But everything else was different: darker skin, black hair, and a slouched posture and apparent lack of grooming efforts, her hair was long, wild, and full of leaves. She also carried a spear in her hand.

So there were native people living on the island. I couldn't believe it--where were they all this time? Why didn't they come to see the crash? I guess it just frightened them off. I was frozen in place, mesmerized.

The native woman looked to her right, then her left--and saw me. She, too, froze and stared fixatedly. She seemed not to know what to make of me.

Well, again, I knew I should've been more mature, but my dick stiffened painfully. What's more, the native woman noticed--she stared down at it, her eyes growing even wider. I didn't know what to do.

She turned toward me, tossed her spear aside, kneeled down, and began rubbing her own breasts rather vigorously at the sight of my cock. That settled it--we were both feeling the same thing. But I had to find Stacy. And boy, would she be mad if I fucked some native chick instead of her, after she'd finally offered. I had to get out of there.

But I couldn't move. She was dirty, hairy, and smelly, but so was I, and she clearly didn't care. And her body . . . She had to be a native: she didn't have a bit of fat on her, just toned muscles, but her breasts must have been D-cups like Stacy's. How could there be such a perfect woman running around here in the mud?

I found myself on my knees too, stroking my dick, and at that, the woman got up and scrambled over to me, falling to her knees again when she got there and taking my cock in her own hand. She fondled it as though trying to make sure it was real. Then she grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands onto her breasts.

I almost came then and there. They actually seemed even bigger than Stacy's, but apart from the fact that whatever undiscovered tribe she was from had obviously not yet advanced to the point of plastic surgery, I could tell they were real. How could she have such wonderfully vast breasts on such a slim, muscle-toned body? Oh, who gave a damn? They were mine now.

I pulled one into my mouth and sucked her nipple; the woman let out such a growl of satisfaction that it might've come from a gorilla. Then another thought occurred to me. I pulled my head back, then thrust it forward and motorboated her bosom. She laughed loudly, but again in satisfaction. Most city girls wouldn't have let me get away with that, but she found it amusing.

She looked down at my rock-hard dick, and turned around, leaning forward onto her hands and thrusting up her ass, presenting me with her pussy. This animalistic posture must have been the only one her tribe knew, she arranged herself so readily into it. Well, it worked for me.

I guided my cock into her pussy, then grabbed her thighs; she pushed back, forcing me deep into her. She was tight--so tight. But clearly not a virgin. She started thrusting before me, and I eagerly picked up on her rhythm, my heart beating like a tribal drum.

As we coupled by the jungle stream, I didn't know what to think, but I knew I was more turned on than I had ever been. We were just like the wild animals who made the island home--we had never seen each other before, but we had recognized our mutual needs, and here we were, furiously fucking each other in the middle of the jungle. Would we ever see each other again after this? God, I hoped so.

I drove my iron piston into her over and over again with as much force as I had in my body, and she received each thrust with relish, growling more and more, louder and louder, again like a wild animal. I guess she was one, but I'd become one now too--I'd gone feral with lust, and apparently my passion was enough to gratify a true wild woman.

But I was a year or so out of practice, and my wild desperation didn't help: my orgasm hit me like a plane crash, and I unloaded my cargo into her in enormous bursts. She made no effort to avoid taking in my seed, but thrashed harder in attempt to complete her own passion before my dick receded. It seemed, however, that she was unsuccessful, and she growled, this time in frustration.

She moved away from me, and I collapsed onto my own hands; I had never come so hard before. I couldn't see straight for a moment, but I looked up to see if she was still there.

She stood in her hunched posture, panting. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it; I did the same: I wanted to say something, but I knew she wouldn't understand me anyway. Instead, I slowly reached up and picked a leaf out of her hair.

She blushed a little at this, and looked away. We both caught our breath again after a while, and she looked back at me. This time, her eyes seemed much more human.

Then she moved back toward me, and slowly pushed me onto the ground. She lowered her head to my crotch and took my floppy dick into her mouth. So they did know about other kinds of sex, it seemed. But it was too soon; my cock hadn't regained its enthusiasm yet.

She sucked on it anyway, almost absent-mindedly. I sat up a little and put my fingers in her hair; I tried to run them through, but it was too tangled. I'd always liked silky hair that you can run your fingers through, but I guess you can't have everything, and she certainly hadn't needed it to make me cum.

As my heart pounded, my dick regained its first spark of vigor. Noticing, the native woman sucked more energetically, and soon I was hard again. She removed her mouth and looked me in the eyes, as though thinking.

I motioned for her to climb on top of me. She squealed a little at the thought, and prepared to mount me. I motioned for her to turn around and mount me backwards, which she also picked up on right away. This time, I would last longer.

We guided my sword into her sheath together, and she began slowly rising and falling along my length. I was reminded of how tight she felt. We began moving together in a slightly faster rhythm, seemingly in harmony with the sounds of nature around us. She clearly wanted me just as I wanted her; maybe we could live together on the island, and indulge in these mutually adored activities every day.

I arched my head backwards in pleasure, and from that position, with the native woman on top of me, I saw Stacy, looking down at me from some distance away in the trees in utter disgust. I looked into her hating eyes, and in that instant I realized that, really, I'd never liked her, I'd just wanted to fuck her. All the flirting back in the office, all of that was part of the complicated social process required to achieve mating in the civilized world. But looking her over now, she didn't seem nearly as attractive as my animalistic mate. She now really looked to me like a Barbie: fake, plastic; a stereotype of beauty that excludes such wondrous possibilities as my native woman. And I knew for a fact that her boobs were fake, whereas now my girl had real ones of the same caliber. Plus, having stayed in the cave instead of exploring with me, Stacy had grown a Buddha belly, while my wild woman's physique was sculpted to perfection by nature. I knew who I wanted, so I looked away from Stacy and pounded my cock up into my jungle girl. I could hear Stacy running away through the trees.




Island



I sat up and grabbed for the native woman's breasts; she got up and turned around, and I reentered her and continued fucking, rubbing and squeezing her boobs too. God, they were juicy, and she loved it when I played with them. She bounced up and down on me at a furious rate, starting up her growling again. That sound was what drove me wild, and we pushed against each other until even the snakes and tarantulas grew fearful and slunk away in alarm. If heaven was anything other than this, I'd have rather stayed on this island.

I wanted her to know how much I was enjoying it, so I rearranged us so that I was on top. From there I jackhammered her into the mud, and she gurgled and grumbled in severe, feral pleasure all the way. My tongue played with her boobs as I thrusted, and she seemed to be convulsing in bliss. Finally, she achieved her goal: I felt her pussy tighten around my dick as her loins exploded with ecstasy, and she let out a scream more wild than anything I'd ever heard, which sounded anything but human. I kept going the whole time, fighting against her bucking hips like a lion tamer. As her body settled, I pulled out.

But I wasn't finished with her. I rolled her over onto her stomach, and, after a moment, she rose into her original position, on her hands and knees. I took a deep breath before going back in. She really was wonderfully tight. I grabbed her hips again, and started slowly. She responded, and our sexes slid around lazily for a while.

Then she growled again, and we sped up. I panted hard as I drove into her just as she thrusted back, and, reminded of the beginning of our mating session, we redoubled our efforts, attempting to conclude on an even better note. She was sort of growling with each pant now, and I couldn't help it--I let out a roar myself, letting everything know that there was a new king of this jungle. This excited her to a point beyond her control, and her thrusts became irregular and panicked; then, once again, her wonderful pussy clamped around my cock, and in response I blasted my seed into her; we both let out indistinct, extremely loud noises with our final mutual thrust. As the island rang with our lust, her arms gave out and her face sank into the mud, and I similarly collapsed on top of her. I was utterly exhausted, but this orgasm had been even stronger than the last, and I could only assume that the same was true for her. I lay there over my queen of the jungle, and thought about the things I'd teach her. English, maybe, and then the concepts that could be expressed with it, but also a certain number of sexual strategies--then again, she'd given a world-class performance, so maybe it would be her who taught me.

* * *

Stacy emerged from the edge of the jungle--oddly, she looked like she was fuming. Charlotte waved her over to the boat using one of the shirts she had been given--Stacy came over and dressed herself as though the clothes had done her some great wrong.

"Did you find Mark?" Charlotte asked.

"He's dead," said Stacy.

"What? But you said he was--"

"I saw him. Dead."

"Oh, poor Mark . . ."

The two girls started to board the rescue boat, but were interrupted by what seemed to be two unanimous animal howls from deep within the jungle.

"What on earth was that?" Charlotte asked. Stacy mumbled something angrily and marched on board. Charlotte, following her, mused, "I wonder what ever happened to Maribel?"

"Dead," said Stacy, "the little whore. I saw them both. Getting eaten by vultures."

"Aww, Stacy, I'm sorry you had to see that," said Charlotte sympathetically.

"Maribel," Stacy muttered. "Over me? Fucking Mark . . ."

Charlotte, not catching on, said, "They're both in a better place now."

"Where they want to be, alright," Stacy said to herself. "In each other's pants. Fucking Mark. No wonder you spent so much time in the jungle. Goddamn motherfucker."

"You should've seen Mary, though," said Charlotte breezily, "she slimmed down like you wouldn't believe. Well, I guess maybe you did see--sorry, that was insensitive. It's just, they need to make an island workout program or something."

Stacy looked down at her potbelly, visible beneath the undersized shirt she'd been given. She scowled furiously, looking out the window at the island as the ship sailed back toward civilization.

"Fucking Mark," she said. 



Island Adventure



Carol Simony, CEO of the Choplet-LaSalle Corporation and the richest woman in the USA, strode out of the Manila office building and across the sidewalk inside a wedge formed by her bodyguards; she ignored the cries of protest from the pedestrians who were jostled out of the way by her phalanx of thugs. So sure was she that her limo would be waiting that she was at the curb before she noticed it wasn't there.

She turned to the sweating young man who dogged her steps. "Donald, you putz! Where the hell is my limo?"

Donald pointed at a large vehicle a half-block away. "There it is, Ms. Simony. It must have gotten stuck in traffic."

"Not good enough, Donald. You said it would be waiting for me right here. If I can't count on you for a simple thing like this you're no use to me."

He protested, "I'm sorry, Ms. Simony, but this isn't my fault, it's just a slight traffic delay."

"Don't whine, Donald. I expect results, not excuses. You really are worthless. You can take a bus back to the hotel, I don't want to be seen with you."

The limo stopped and she got inside. The bodyguard in the front seat exchanged glances with the driver, but neither man was surprised at Carol's actions. Carol wasn't very lovable. The only people who really liked her were the C-L stockholders, because it was her management that had made the company so very profitable.

Carol tried to relax as the limo fought its way through the city traffic. She had been in Manila to close the negotiations for another merger, and it had been a tense time, even for an experienced predator such as she. C-L wasn't the only player, and she had had to outmaneuver, backstab, and betray men from three continents before she could close the deal.

The limo picked up speed once it was outside the city. It continued along the highway until it reached a private airfield, where Carol boarded the executive jet that would take her almost 700 miles to Davao City, on the island of Mindanao. This was where she would start her vacation.

Sailing was Carol's only non-business activity. She begrudged the time away from her work, but she had found that sailing was absolutely necessary if she hoped to survive the stress of corporate warfare. Several weeks at sea, sailing alone, would refresh her and leave her ready for the next battle.

Being at sea was only part of the process; being far away from other people was the most important factor. Not that she would be out of touch; a satellite phone kept her in contact with her staff. 'Sometimes in closer contact than they like,' she thought, 'noon here may be the middle of the night there. Too bad for them, but at C-L I'm the one who matters.'

Carol spent the night in the best hotel in Davao, and early the next morning she was at the marina where her boat, the 'C-L II', waited. This boat was her favorite for single-handed sailing; its ketch rig divided the sail area into easily handled segments. The boat was just over fifty feet long on the waterline. It had cost her over three million dollars (actually, C-L paid the bill), and it was equipped with every convenience, both for operating the boat and for living aboard.

She met with the C-L employee who had accompanied the boat on its trip by freighter from San Francisco. (The freight charges were billed to the C-L 'employee recreation' account.)

"Everything ready to go?" she snapped.

"Yes, Ms. Simony. You can sail any time you wish."

"So you say." Carol never took anything for granted, and she conducted a meticulous inspection of the boat and its contents. She was impressed; even her exacting standards were met. Not that she would say so, of course.

"It'll do. Get ashore and be ready to cast off the mooring lines. I'm out of here." She started the auxiliary diesel engine and ordered the lines cast off. She motored out of the harbor, and once she was clear of the land she hoisted the sails. She plotted the course that would clear Cape San Augustine, and then lost herself in the simple pleasure of steering the boat and adjusting the sails. For the first time in months she felt some serenity.

Once the boat passed the cape Carol plotted a new course to the east, heading into the center of Micronesia. Even though this was her vacation she spent most of her time working; she planned her next business coup while the autopilot guided the boat. She had her eye on another large electronics firm. She had discovered that there was a large overlap in operations that would allow massive cost-cutting.

Carol was an experienced sailor, and she monitored the boat and its surroundings continually. Ten days into her journey she noticed that a tropical depression had appeared on her satellite weather display. It was coming her way, but she wasn't worried. "I can handle anything the sea can throw at me." she boasted.

Three days later she wasn't so sure. The tropical depression had developed into a full-fledged storm, and the boat was running downwind under bare poles. The wind was Force Twelve, and the mast-tall waves towered over the boat. Carol no longer knew where she was exactly; a few hours ago the wind had destroyed her masthead antennas, and the heavy rain and breaking seas blocked her GPS and satellite communications. She was really worried now. There were numerous atolls to leeward of her, and she had very little ability to maneuver.

Disaster struck just before dawn. Carol had been awake for almost two days,and she finally had to go below for some sleep. She had been asleep for just over an hour when the boat struck a reef. She had no warning; she woke with the impact, and before she was out of her bunk the surging waves pounded the boat's hull onto the coral and water flooded inside. She scrambled on deck, and was shocked to discover that both the dinghy and the inflatable life raft had washed away. All she could do was wait helplessly while the waves drove the boat across the reef and into the lagoon, where she knew it would sink.

Carol didn't know when the boat finally slipped off the reef and into the lagoon. One minute she was struggling just to keep from being washed off the boat; the next minute she was in the water. She was wearing a life jacket, but the wind was so strong and the water was so rough that she could barely breathe. She tried to fight her way to the island that she had seen when the boat first hit the reef, but the sea was winning the contest. She had stopped fighting by the time strong brown arms lifted her out of the water and into a canoe.

* * *

It was dawn of the next day before Carol awoke. She found herself in a wooden hut, supine on a mat and looking up at a corrugated-steel roof. Rain was still pounding on the roof, but the wind had dropped; the mat that covered the door opening was hardly moving. Her muscles were a bit sore, but she didn't have any pain. She sat up and examined her body. She was surprised but grateful to find that she was uninjured. She was also naked. She thought back and realized that she had been naked when she went into the water. Not too surprising, since she rarely wore clothes when she was at sea in the tropics.

The door mat was pushed aside and a young woman entered the hut. She was very pretty, with tan skin, dark brown eyes, and long black hair. She was wearing a blue and red printed cloth wrapped around her hips and, incongruously, a hooded transparent plastic raincoat, which didn't conceal her slim, shapely figure and high, firm breasts.

Carol looked at the native woman and then at her own tanned body. She smugly thought, 'I must be more than twenty years older than she is, but I could match her in looks.' She ran her hands through her short brown hair. 'Except for the hair, maybe.'


"Hello, welcome to Tontolona Island. My name is Nila. What is your name?" Nila put down the package she was carrying and removed her raincoat.

"My name is Carol Simony. Do you have a satellite phone here? Or a radio? I've got to let my people know that I'm OK." Carol didn't have any family or friends who would worry about her, but she knew that Wall Street would pound down the price of C-L stock if she were reported missing.

Nila shrugged. "You must ask chief." She smiled and opened the package. "Sarong, for you."

She handed Carol a cloth similar to the one she was wearing, except that it was teal and blue. Carol wrapped it around her hips, but as soon as she released it the sarong fell to the floor. Nila giggled and rewrapped it, showing Carol the proper way to tuck it so it would stay in place.

Nila took a covered bowl from the package and knelt on the mat. She uncovered the bowl and gestured to indicate Carol should join her. "Here is some food." She dipped her fingers in the paste-like substance in the bowl and licked it off.

Carol didn't really care to share like this, but she was very hungry so she knelt and forced herself to scoop up some of the paste and put it in her mouth. It had a faint bitter taste, but she managed to swallow it. After a few more bites she again questioned Nila. "I've got to let people know where I am and I've got to get back to civilization. How do I get off this island?"

"You will see Chief Tonongo soon. You ask him." Nila ate the last of the paste. She rose gracefully to her feet and reached out her hand. "Come, I will take you to him."

Carol stood and waited while Nila put on her raincoat. "Keeps my hair dry." she explained. Nila pushed aside the mat and left the hut. Carol hesitated only a moment before she followed. She had never been shy about displaying her body.

It was still raining gently, but it was warm and it didn't bother Carol. Nila led her to a large hut several hundred yards farther inland. Fifty or so people were standing in a semicircle facing the door of the hut. Both men and women were wearing sarongs around their hips. The more matronly women wore bras just for the support, but everyone else was bare to the waist. Some of the women covered their hair to keep it dry.

Carol elbowed her way to the front of the crowd, ignoring the murmurs of protest. A few minutes later the door of the hut opened and a large, imposing man appeared on the porch and seated himself in a throne-like wicker chair. He was wearing one of the ubiquitous sarongs, but he also had a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. This cloak had been woven from bark fiber many generations ago, and it served as the chief's symbol of office. After the chief was seated a younger man emerged from the hut and stood next to him.

The crowd said something in the local dialect and everyone made a quick, shallow bow, more like a nod. The chief replied in the same dialect and nodded in return. The younger man said in English, "All those who desire Chief Tonongo to intercede with the spirits attend upon him. This audience is now open." He looked at Carol and added, "I am Manulu. Who are you?"

"My name is Carol Simony, and I must contact my office at once. Do you have a satellite phone, or a radio?"

Manulu translated this into the local dialect and the chief replied in the same tongue. Manulu said, "The chief expresses his joy that you survived the shipwreck. It was a difficult rescue, but our men are very skilled in the ways of a canoe on the sea. It is always a satisfaction when we save someone from certain death."

"Yeah, but you don't seem to understand. I am the chief executive officer of the Choplet-LaSalle Corporation, a very important company. I must get back to civilization at once."

After the translation delay Manulu replied, "The chief will hold a private audience with you later. Please wait."

Carol didn't like this at all, but her protest was ignored and the chief replied to a question from another person. This went on for some time, and by the time everyone had spoken Carol was fuming with impatience. In her world her wishes were attended to immediately.

There was an altar next to the chief's hut. It was made of stone and sheltered by a thatched roof; three men had just finished applying new palm fronds to replace the ones carried away by the storm. Chief Tonongo went inside the hut and returned a moment later holding a wooden chest. It was made of some dark wood and it was exquisitely carved. When it appeared everyone bowed while the chief carried it to the altar and reverently placed it on top.

Carol asked, "What is that? It's gorgeous." She approached the altar and reached out towards the chest.

Nila gasped, "Don't touch it! That is spirit chest. Only chief may touch it."

"Hey, I'm not going to hurt it." Carol stroked the carved wood.

There were cries of shock and one of the men in the crowd grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Carol had studied martial arts- she had a lot of enemies- and she reacted instinctively. She twisted, pulled, and the man flew over her back and landed with a thump. Another man seized her from behind, but an elbow in the ribs knocked him back. But now the crowd was into it, and before long Carol was face down on the ground with several people sitting on her. Manulu arrived with some jute rope, and he tied Carol's hands behind her back. She was pulled to her knees and he wrapped more rope over her arms, in bands above and below her breasts.

The crowd was angry, and Carol might have been knocked around except that Chief Tonongo ordered them back. He glared at Carol and made a brief statement in the local dialect. Manulu translated. "Chief Tonongo says that your spirit is not in harmony with the nature spirits. You are to be incarcerated until you have obtained this harmony."

"You yokels wouldn't dare! Don't you know who I am? I'll buy this island and have all of you tossed into the sea!"

Manulu spoke for himself. "Buy us with what? All you have is a borrowed sarong. We don't know or care who you are. You are guilty of sacrilege and assault. In the old days you would have been drowned in the lagoon." He signaled to two burly men and they hoisted Carol to her feet and hustled her off to the jail.

The jail was a patch of dirt about ten feet square covered by a thatched roof. Pieces of tattered canvas were hung randomly on three sides to give some shelter from the wind. Carol wondered how this was supposed to hold her until Manulu wrapped a chain around her waist and fastened it with a padlock. The chain was bolted to one of the 6x6 roof support posts, and she had about six feet of slack between her waist and the post.

Manulu pointed to a heap of sand next to the jail. "That's your latrine."

Carol was outraged. "You can't do this! You can't chain me up like an animal just on the word of some witch doctor!"

"Chief Tonongo is not only our hereditary ruler. He is also the elected magistrate. If he finds you guilty of a crime he can impose a sentence of up to a year's imprisonment if he wants to. Did you have anything planned for the next year? You could be staying right here."

Carol didn't really believe this was happening to her. People just didn't dare to treat her like this. "You can't do this! Untie my hands at once!"

Manulu cut the rope loose from Carol's arms and wrists. She rubbed her wrists, and her face reflected her opinion that it had taken these savages too long to come to their senses. Then the two men held her while Manulu and another man picked up wooden planks. When Carol saw the semi-circular cutouts in the plank edges she knew what they were for and struggled desperately. She twisted so violently that her sarong came loose and fell to the ground.

Each plank was about three feet long, one foot wide, and an inch thick. One plank had two pairs of short boards attached to it at a right angle, one pair at each end, and while Manulu held this plank against the back of Carol's neck his helper slipped the other plank between the short boards. Carol didn't like this at all, so they did have a little trouble forcing her hands into the cutouts, but eventually the planks were pushed together and the locking pins inserted. Now Carol was securely yoked.

The yoke was made of hard and heavy wood, and Carol felt the weight. She could twist the yoke a little, but this rubbed her neck and pinched her wrists while not gaining her anything. She screamed with frustration.

She screamed again when the men sat her down and Manulu put her ankles into stocks. The stocks were similar to the yoke, except there were only two cutouts, and Carol's ankles were held about two feet apart. She was accustomed to nudity, but this much exposure made her blush. The men gave her casual glances, but naked women were not that unusual on the island. Carol had no special features, except that her pubic hair was brown instead of black.

Manulu picked up Carol's sarong and the men left the jail. Carol cried, "Wait! You didn't tell me how long I have to stay here."

"Like Chief Tonongo said, until your spirit is in harmony."

"How long will that take?"

Manulu shrugged. "Who knows? It could take a day, a month, or a year. The spirits will tell the chief when everything is in harmony, and you will be released then."

Carol just couldn't believe this. She was rich and powerful. How could she be the helpless and humiliated captive of an ignorant, superstitious old man? It defied the proper order of things. And he could keep her like this for a year? She screamed again.

Carol sat alone in the jail for several hours. The yoke was heavy and uncomfortable. It seemed to her that her body had disappeared. She could see her hands and a part of her shins, but the rest of her body was hidden from her view by the yoke and the stocks. She wondered if this was supposed to help her get in harmony with the spirits.

Sometime after noon Nila arrived at the jail. She was carrying a bottle of water and a bowl.

"Hello, Carol. I suppose you are thirsty." She held the bottle to Carol's mouth.

Carol drank the water. The yoke on her neck made her totally dependent on someone else for all her basic needs, and this frightened her. "Nila, take this yoke off. You can do it." The wooden locking pins were just tied in place with thin rope.

"I am sorry, but you must wear yoke all day. I will feed you now." Nila used her fingers to scoop up the paste in her bowl and feed it to Carol. Carol grimaced, but she ate all the paste. Licking Nila's fingers gave her a strange feeling.

She had another concern. "Uh, Nila, I have to pee. Can you let me loose?"

"Yes, I can help you." Nila removed the stocks from Carol's ankles and Carol groaned with pleasure as she brought her knees together.

Nila helped Carol stand up and led her to the sand heap. Carol protested, "I don't want to pee out here in front of everybody. Don't you have indoor plumbing on this island?"

"Yes, but you may not enter a building unless your spirit is in harmony."

Carol gave in to the inevitable and squatted on the sand heap. Nila held on to the yoke to steady her. When Carol finished Nila helped her stand and led her back under the jail roof.

"Sit down, Carol. I have to put the stocks back on your ankles."

"No. I don't want that."

"Please cooperate. If you do not I will have to call Manulu and he will be very angry with you. He will force the stocks on you and he will leave them there always. You will not like that."

Carol considered that to be an understatement. She sat down and let Nila lock the stocks back on her ankles. She would get her revenge later.

Nila kissed Carol's forehead. "I must go now. I will be back later. Please meditate and try to align your spirit with the nature spirits."

Carol spent the rest of the day sitting in the jail. She didn't have anything else to do except watch the rain, so she tried to align her spirit, but since she didn't even know if she had one there was no way to measure her progress. Every couple of hours Nila visited her and gave her some water and helped her pee if she needed to. Carol looked forward to these visits more and more as the day dragged on.




Island



He thought about shouting their names into the darkness and listening for a response, but there was only one or two useless little paddles in the raft. Three people were gone and it was too late to do anything, if he could have done anything at all. 

The crying turned into sobbing. It bought him out of silence. He shouted for quiet, then had asked them all to repeat their names, that he wanted to know where they were in the raft. He asked Ann if there was someone to her left. She said it was Nan. He asked Nan if she had someone to her left. She said no. He then heard Liz start sobbing again as she said no one was next to her on either side. Lisa said there wasn't anyone on her right. 

He had thought they should level out the weight, so he told them he was moving towards Liz. Ann had protested, and probably Nan had too but the second voice was probably more concerned about the raft somehow tipping if he moved. Maybe Ann had thought the same now that he gave it some consideration. He had thought about the emergency pack in the raft but he they were still rising and falling dramatically on the swells and there were still waves slamming into the raft. He hadn't wanted to chance losing anything from that zippered compartment. 

When they were in a trough between swells, he quickly slid on his belly to where he thought the gap was. He stayed down as he frantically grabbed handholds. He waited for the uplift and then downward motion of the next swell, then quickly moved to a sitting position with his back against the wall of the raft. He was next to Liz. He had reached out to her and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. Her crying slowed after the touch but she didn't let go of the handholds to touch him back. He moved a couple feet away from her to even out the weight. 

Another hour passed before he had moved again, to get the flashlight out of the zippered emergency compartment. The girls were all nervous with him moving around and someone shouted for him to be careful. He switched on the flashlight and pointed it around the raft to get a look at each girl. They were all shaking as much as he was, maybe more. He had hoped it was from cold and not shock. 

He made his way between Ann and Lisa again under the protest of Liz. He told Liz he'd be right back but he had to check the emergency transmitter. He hadn't even been sure that was what it was called. He doubted it was working remembering that blinking light on Barb's raft. It was attached to the side of the raft. He just put the flashlight beam on it, looking for a switch even though he recalled Jeff saying it turned on automatically when the raft was pressurized. He wasn't going to do more than look at it for the moment, too worried he'd lose some important part or break the damn thing beyond any repair, or somehow drop it in the ocean in the still violent movement of the raft. 

He belly crawled to the other side of the raft to even the weight out and calm Liz, then looked at everyone again, pointing the beam to their chests or necks. He asked each of them how they were doing. They all said they were freezing. He had seen mylar thermal wraps in the emergency locker. He didn't want to lose them either, yet he didn't want any of the girls to become hypothermic. 

He slid back to the locker, and pulled one out. He used his right hand to grip a handhold and with his left he shook the thin blanket until it unfurled. He pressed one corner of it to Lisa's hand on the handhold and she grabbed it. He wanted to hug her when her other hand released its handhold and grabbed the other corner. He pushed the edges under her knees and she did the other side. 

She had surprised him by chattering out, "Th-th-thank y-y-you." He then continued with all the girls, once having to grab a second hand hold as an odd taller swell made the raft rise at a sever angle, a couple of the girls had screamed during it. He finally took one of the blankets for himself and moved near Liz again. He turned off the flashlight. Hollywood movies had taught him it was best to conserve everything in survival situations. No one talked, maybe because their teeth were chattering. 

He told everyone to keep tabs on the person next to them, on either side, and to make sure no one fell asleep. He had thought if they were getting hypothermic, someone might doze off from it and fall out of the raft. He wondered if any of them had lifelines on. Someone might have unclipped it from the boat cable, not the vest. He thought the eight foot cord would get in the way. He asked. No one had their lifelines. He kept checking everyone with the flashlight about every quarter hour. An hour later the clouds broke and he looked up to see a three quarter moon. One of the girls shakily said, "T-Thank G-God." Ten minutes later clouds covered it again, but there was enough ambient light to vaguely see everyone in the raft. He stopped using the flashlight. He figured they had been in the raft at least six hours at that point.

It must have been around 4:00AM when he first heard more waves crashing. It had tensed him immediately. He couldn't feel his hands anymore. He was stiff and numb all over in fact. Everyone was still shivering. He had wondered if he or any of them would be able to grip the handholds if the storm regained its horrifying strength. He sat up straighter and looked around. The phosphorescence of the whitecapping waves was more noticeable now. The swells had gotten slightly smaller. He was glad for that, but he definitely heard waves cresting. Lisa had then sat up straighter. 

She asked him if he heard something. He said yes. Ann sat straighter, then Nan. Liz started crying again. Lisa and he must have had the same thought at the same moment. He had never mentioned it to Cheryl but he had taught at the university in Honolulu for one semester right after grad school. He had been to the north shore a half dozen times and he knew what surf sounded like. He knew how terrifying swells could be when they turned into surf. He had said, "Shit" almost simultaneously with Lisa saying, "That's surf." Nan and Ann excitedly asked if they'd be on land soon. 

He had told them all to take off the mylar blankets. Maybe his voice had displayed his own fear because Liz started crying harder. He had then quickly added that he didn't want the blankets in the way if they had to paddle to the shore. He took the blanket from Liz and then moved to Nan and had noticed Lisa was at the emergency locker putting her blanket in and then taking Ann's. He slid to the locker and stuffed the three blankets inside. Lisa returned to her place and held on. 

He switched on the flashlight and looked at each girl. Everyone was still shaking. Liz would be best on the second paddle because she had to be at least 5'-9," an inch taller than himself. She'd be able to lean down farther to dig the paddle into the water and not fall in. Ann was the next tallest at about 5'-6" but she was looking nearly as scared as Liz. Nan and Lisa were about the same height about 5'-3". 

He asked who wanted to man the second paddle. No one responded for a good half minute, then both Nan and Lisa said they'd paddle. The surf sounds were getting noticeably louder. He was both afraid of hitting it and scared they'd just float past it on some current, if in fact, it really was an island and not just a reef. He told Lisa to take the paddle and then told Nan that she should be ready to take over for Lisa if she got tired. He told everyone to turn around and look outward for the surf. It was difficult to see in the darkness, plus the swells would only allow a quick view around at the tops. It was impossible to tell which direction they were moving. It only seemed to be up and down. He put the flashlight in the zippered compartment.

Ann screamed a few minutes later, "I think I see it!" 

Everyone had turned towards her and looked in that direction at the top of next swell. They all saw the phosphorescent foam for a moment. It was still too dark to see if there was an island beyond the surf. He told them all to keeping looking and try to judge whether they were getting closer to it. They watched at the tops of swells for the next ten minutes. They were moving closer. 

He hadn't wanted to make the girls even more scared by displaying his ignorance, but he had to get any information he could. He asked if any of them had ever surfed using a board or been in some sort of boat or sea doo going through the surf to a beach anywhere. He had asked because he hadn't had a clue how to handle it. They all said no. He knew it probably didn't matter that neither he nor they knew anything about it. He had figured two dinky paddles weren't going to give them any control. 

He had wondered if trying it in the water in their life vests would be better, maybe body surfing to shore. He thought about the probable coral and hoped to God they all didn't wash up on some beach nothing but hunks of mangled bone and shredded meat. He had prayed there was a beach. If there was an island, that didn't necessarily mean they were headed for a beach. 

He then asked if any of them had body surfed. They all said they had. He told them if they were somehow tossed out of the raft, to do that. That comment had made Liz start crying again. He had felt like slapping her face, not from anger, but because he had been afraid that if she was tossed out, she'd just give up and let her own terror kill her. He also didn't want the other girls to start crying. 

He then told all of them in a serious, loud, almost angry voice, that whatever happened, they couldn't give up, that they had to save themselves, that they had people who loved them who would be mad as hell at them if they didn't give it their all to get onto that fucking island. He told them they had to depend on each other to get though this and they couldn't do it without the strength and help of everyone. He sternly told Liz that if he got exhausted paddling that she'd take over for him. He told Ann that she was to take over for Liz when she got exhausted or if Nan and Lisa both got exhausted. 

He couldn't remember exactly but he thought he came across as very angry. Maybe that was why Liz stopped crying. He had wanted everyone thinking about what they should do, not their fears. After his faux angry "pep talk", all the girls nodded at him. He told them to keep watching and when they got close to the surf, he and Lisa would move to opposite sides of the round raft so they were both facing the surf. He said they all might have to move to get in that position. 

He had tried to figure out if weight should be distributed evenly or in the front or back. He doubted it should be the front, and figured the back end would be best to have the weight. He then told Ann, Liz and Nan they would move to the back end wherever that was, but be prepared to move again if the raft started turning around. He said he didn't want to waste time trying to paddle the raft so he and Lisa were always facing forward, they'd just move themselves, not the raft. All the girls nodded at him again. He had wondered at the time if any of them had the slightest confidence in him. He certainly hadn't had any in himself. 

At the top of a swell Nan shouted that she thought she saw a beach. They all looked again from the top of the next swell but he had only seen the phosphorescent surf. He could tell they were moving faster towards the surf a few minutes later. He was surprised that the closer they got, the swells appeared to be getting smaller. The ambient light increased a little but still no one could see a beach or any land. 

The surf sound grew louder. Ten minutes later it was very loud. He had no hope that any paddling would help them. A swell came up raising the raft but the trough didn't quickly follow, it carried them quite a distance. He looked at Lisa and called her name. When she looked at him, he told her to just do what she thought was right with the paddle if she couldn't hear him. He said he thought they should paddle like hell at the beginning of the next swell, and if the swell started to crest, that she should drop the paddle and grab onto two handholds. He told her to try to put the paddle between her body and the wall of the raft so it didn't whip around on its cord. He told her not to worry too much about it, the main thing was to grip two hand holds if they crested. 

He had then realized that he and Lisa couldn't move around the raft without unclipping the paddles. He quickly told Lisa that, and said they might have to back paddle if the raft didn't face the right way. He said he didn't think they should take the cords off and chance losing either paddle. She said she'd try her best to paddle the right way if she couldn't hear him. He told the other girls to move to the back end. Again, he had been overwhelmed with worry that what he was telling everyone to do, was the exact opposite of what should be done. 

On the next rolling swell he and Lisa paddled with all their strength and speed. He had wondered if they were just erasing a minute or two of their lives, paddling might just be getting them quicker to their deaths. In the trough he shouted at Lisa to rest. He turned around and looked for the next swell. It was still mostly night but he was able to see the swell was becoming a wave. He saw it begin to crest and then the crest started and it seemed like there was water cantilevered to his left. He shouted to Lisa to paddle like hell. After a dozen strokes, he had changed his mind about paddling, realizing that cantilevered water might be the start of a pipeline. 

At that realization, terror had again gripped him. He had shouted as loud as he could to Lisa, telling her to drop her paddle and for everyone to hold on as tight as they could. He had remembered trying to body surf on the north shore of Oahu years ago. He had never seen a pipeline other than on TV, but just the large waves he had experience that day body surfing or much smaller waves at a couple other beaches on the south shore, let alone the past eight hours, had made him well aware that tons of water could do whatever the hell it wanted to a human body. He had remembered the relatively small wave on a south shore beach that had sent him to the bottom curling his body around a couple times before it had slammed his head to into the sand. It could easily have broken his neck. 

The last things he remembered with crystal clarity, was grabbing two handholds just before the raft began tipping forward nearly vertically and then the terrifying slamming crush of water driving him down into blackness that seemed to go on forever. He hadn't struggled against it at all, like some instinct within him told him it would be a futile effort. He remembered that he assumed he would be dead in a few moments, and that he had just accepted it. There had been no panic for air, no struggle against the force twisting his body around and shoving him seemingly down hundreds of feet. In fact he hadn't felt the need to breathe at all. The last thing he could vaguely recall was that he thought his head had exploded.





Island



Nan had helped him kneel down, then he sat back on his legs. He asked Lisa where she hurt. She had said mainly her back but really everywhere. He asked if she had tried to move. She responded that it was extremely painful trying to move at all. He asked her if she could feel her legs and feet. She said she didn't know, then said she could feel all the cuts. He asked if she could move her arms and she said she could but it really hurt her back when she did. He told her to just wiggle her fingers for him. She did that. He asked Nan to help him up. 

He moved to Lisa's feet and knelt down again. He told her to close her eyes and for her to tell him when she felt him touch her. He had waited a few moments, then with one fingertip he lightly touched her ankle. She told him she could feel that. He did the same to her other ankle and she responded. 

He hadn't known what to do. His brain had barely been able to form words for him to speak. He suddenly thought of the raft. He asked Nan if she had seen it. She told him they had looked up and down the beach all morning but hadn't seen it. He had wondered exactly what medical supplies were in the first aid kit. He noticed Lisa was only five feet away from the waves that were sloshing up along the beach. For some reason he imagined some big wave hitting the shore and washing her out to sea. 

He thought they should move her immediately. But, if her back was broken, maybe moving her was the worst thing to do. He thought of a backboard and realized it was a stupid thought. He then thought of the waves again. He had no knowledge of tides and that sort of thing, but the image of some huge wave washing over her kept popping into his mind. His head was screaming with pain. He truly hadn't been able to think straight at all. 

Nan knelt down next to him then. She looked at him wide eyed, and asked if he was all right. He had realized he had been frozen in thought for a long time, he didn't know how long. He looked at Lisa and she was staring at him with fear in her eyes. He couldn't remember telling her to open her eyes. He told her to relax. He cupped his palms behind her ankles wondering if pulling her legs might relieve the pressure on her spine if it was a pinched nerve. He looked at her face. She was staring at him then she smiled slightly probably trying to reassure him that things were going to be all right. 

He again wished he knew what the hell to do. He looked at his hands on her ankles and decided pulling her legs would be stupid, might be something that would make things worse, maybe cut her spinal cord. He pulled his hands off her ankles. He asked if her back pain was getting worse. She told him it was the same as before.

Ann had rushed up at that moment, screaming that Liz was sort of awake and vomiting. He asked Ann if she had turned Liz over or her face to the side. She told him no. He told her to run back as fast as she could and turn her head to the side and not to leave her. 

Lisa asked how he was feeling. It had almost made him smile when he realized she was the first person to ask and that he had absolutely no idea of how to answer. He stared at her and finally said he had a headache. He told her she was going to be okay and asked if she would be all right alone for a few minutes. She said yes. He told Nan to help him up again. He had to stand still for a few seconds with his arm around her shoulders because he had suddenly felt like vomiting and fainting simultaneously. 

When the pain subsided and the nausea got under control, they made their way back to Ann and Liz. Liz had passed out again. He looked at the pile of sticks Ann had gathered. He told both Ann and Nan to look for more sticks, slightly thicker ones, try to find a few that were flat if possible. He looked at the trees. Palms were the only thing he could see. He told them to go farther into the forest but not to get lost and to try for fifteen minutes or so.

He had sat there looking at Liz. He tried to think. The pain in his head seemed to get worse as soon as the two girls had run into the trees. He felt like vomiting again, but squelched the urge. He had no real idea of what to do for any of them. He realized he was working on bits and pieces of information learned over his lifetime watching TV and movies, some of which, possibly all of which was incorrect or misremembered. 

With Lisa he had done that "examination," that touch test from some TV medical drama. He had recalled it was supposed to be on the soles of bare feet, not ankles but he hadn't wanted to lift her feet to take her sneakers off. He looked at Liz's broken, swollen forearm. It was slightly angled where it shouldn't be angled. He had no idea of how to set it. If they did what he planned, it might just make it worse, maybe create a compound fracture in the process shoving some bone shard out through her skin. He knew tropical islands were perfect breeding grounds for bacteria. If that happened it might go septic. She'd die if they weren't found. That had been the first moment he thought about rescue. 

They would have to make a fire, a big fire. Another movie entered his mind. Tom Hanks' bloody hands from rolling a stick in his palms trying to start a fire, how he had figured out a different technique, rubbing a stick on a flat piece of wood and some fuzzy tinder to get a fire started.

Nan and Ann returned running. Both had gotten nearly armloads of sticks, none were flat. They spread them out and he chose six that looked the best. He told the girls to hold Liz's upper arm and elbow. He held Liz's wrist with both his hands. He had again realized he had no knowledge if what he was doing was the right thing. What if rescue was ten minutes away, some boat or plane, some doctor on board? But, then again, what if they did nothing and made it worse by doing nothing. What if they waited and she woke up and then they did what he was planning to do and she'd feel all the pain. He finally decided that doing something was better than doing nothing. 

He told the girls to hold Liz's upper arm as tight as they could and he started pulling her arm at the wrist, increasing the strain with each passing second, scared to death he was doing something stupid. He watched the bulge of her swollen arm. It didn't change. He pulled harder. Liz became semi-conscious. She started screaming. 

The girls instantly released her upper arm. He had shouted to them to hold it fucking tight. When he had yelled he thought his head was going to explode again. When they grabbed the upper arm he pulled even harder, Liz twisted her torso and screamed louder. The bulge on her arm started to lessen. He pulled harder. Liz screamed even louder then passed out. The arm looked swollen but more normal. He stopped pulling but kept tension on her arm holding her wrist. He told Nan to hold on tight, and Ann to feel under the arm, to see if any bones were poking out. She did and said nothing was sticking out. 

His head had been pounding too much for him to have bothered with any prayer of thanks. He told Nan to keep holding on as she was, and that Ann should take off her and Nan's shoelaces, realizing they should have done that first. He looked at the selected sticks. He told Ann to put them around Liz's forearm, that she should tie the laces around them. Ann couldn't do it by herself. He held Liz's wrist with one hand, shifted on his knees to the opposite side of Liz, and then replaced Nan's hands on Liz's lower biceps with his free hand. Nan moved and tied the laces while Ann held the sticks in place. He released Liz's arm when they finished. Her arm stayed straight. He sat back, closed his eyes and tried to get the pain to lessen in his head.

A few moments passed before his eyes opened again. He told the girls to open Liz's life vest and then gently push their hands under Liz's back, feel along her backbone, see if they felt any swelling or bumps anywhere on her spine or her back. He watched them do it. Both girls said they didn't feel anything odd. He told Ann to stay with Liz, to keep Liz's head turned to the side in case she threw up while she was passed out, and to shout for them if she came to again. He said if she woke up to ask Liz immediately where she hurt, especially if her back or neck hurt at all. He added that Ann should cup water in her hands and try to wash out the gash on the side of Liz's head too.

He told Nan to help him up and get back to Lisa. When they got to her, Lisa had spoken first, asking how Liz was. Nan told her that they had set her arm but she was still passed out. He knelt down and sat back on his legs. He asked her if the back pain was still bad. She said yes. He asked if it was upper or lower. It was mostly lower. He moved to the knee of her left leg and told Nan to get on the other side. He had recalled another way to lessen the pressure on her spine, other than the traction of pulling her legs. It would be much safer too, at least he had thought it would be. 

He told Lisa to try to completely relax her entire body. He said they were going to raise her knees a little and she should tell them immediately if the pain got worse. She nodded at him. He told Nan to do what he did. He cupped his palm behind Lisa's knee and slowly raised it a couple inches making her heels drag in the sand. He asked her if her back felt better or worse. She said a tiny bit better. He slowly raised her knee a few more inches and Nan followed suit. Lisa said that made it even better. They raised her knees a few more inches. Better. A few more inches. Better. The soles of Lisa's sneakers were flat on the sand. He told Lisa to stay as relaxed as possible and told Nan to hold Lisa's knees together so she didn't have to tense her legs to do that. 

Lisa looked at him and smiled softly and had said, "Thank you, Doctor." 

He started to smile then had immediately turned away from them, and bent forward planting his palms on the sand. His back arched and he dry heaved violently. He had thought he was going to pass out. Both girls frantically asked if he was all right, and asked what they should do for him. 

He fought to stay conscious. He turned around on his hands and knees and then sat back on his legs again. He wiped his mouth and realized the side of his jaw hurt too, not just his head. The backs of his legs started hurting too, not bones, but his skin, a burning sensation. He asked them how bad he was hurt. Nan told him he had a really bad, long gash on his head, and that she and Ann had thought they could see his skull earlier. She said the backs of his legs were badly scraped up. He felt his jaw first. It was swollen. His hand started moving to the top of his head and Nan had almost screamed for him not to touch it. That had told him all he had needed to know. 

Lisa then told Nan to rip her tee shirt and somehow bandage his head. Nan said they had used a sock earlier and it must have fallen off. He wasn't sure why he had, but he told Nan not to rip her shirt, that a sock would do. Lisa told her to get something, that her back was fine and she could hold her legs by herself. 

He told Nan to wait a second. He moved on hands and knees and replaced Nan's hands on Lisa's knees. Nan got up and ran down the beach. Lisa smiled at him. He now vaguely recalled he had smiled back, but maybe he didn't. He asked her to describe his head wound. She had bitten her lower lip for a few moments, then said it deeply cut about four or five inches long on the right side top of his head. It looked like his scalp had curled under both edges of the gash, it was open about a half of an inch. 

He had stared at her pretty face for nearly a minute probably trying desperately to think of some funny retort. He had finally told her that he guessed he wouldn't have to worry about combing a part in his hair anymore. He had hoped she'd at least smile, but he recalled she had bitten her lip again and her eyes had welled with tears. He had forced a smile to his mouth, then told her she had very sexy knees. She had smiled briefly while she rolled her eyes. 

Nan came running back, holding a bloody sock and another that wasn't bloody. She ran into the water and wrung both out in the foaming waves at the shore. She came back and asked him if the sea water would infect the wound. He told her he thought salt water would be good for it. She asked how to put it on, how to get it to stay on. He told her to just place it down and try to push the scalp together. He noticed her hands start to tremble. 

When she pressed the wet sock down, he had thought he'd pass out. It had felt like she had just stuck her hand inside his brain. He had probably shouted something like, "Enough!" or maybe he had cursed. Nan had jerked her hands back. He moved his right hand and gently placed it on the wet sock, and again he thought he'd pass out. He felt himself swaying to the side. 

Nan had nearly screamed, "What should I do?! What should I do?!" 

He righted himself, stayed sitting back his legs and told Nan to hold Lisa's knees. No one spoke for a few minutes until they heard Ann's surf muffled voice screaming that Liz was awake. He told Nan to run over there and if Liz could understand to ask her if her back hurt at all, ask her where all her pains were located. He reached for the tops of Lisa's knees with his left hand and palmed them. He noticed he was getting hot, the sun was very bright. He wanted to get his life vest off. He asked Lisa if she was getting hot. She said, "A little." Then like an afterthought, she smiled. He didn't understand the smile at all. He told her he thought they should leave her vest on for a while. That it might be painful to get it off. She said, "Okay."

Nan ran back a minute later and told them that Liz didn't think her back hurt much. Just her head and her arm. He asked her if Liz had vomited again. Nan said she hadn't. At that moment he had become completely mindless again. He didn't know what the hell to do next. He finally thought they could at least move Liz farther away from the water in case some big wave came in. 

He looked at Lisa's face, her eyes squinting at him in the sun. The sun. They should all get out of the sun. He told Nan to help him out of his vest. When they got that off he told her to get his tee shirt up to his neck. It was soaked with water and sweat so it took a few moments. He gently held the sock to his wound and felt the pain skyrocket again. He raised one arm, then the other, switiching hands on the sock. He told her to work the shirt over his head. He pressed down a little harder on the sock and again he thought he might faint. He raised his hand when Nan told him to. She slipped the shirt over his head and off. He told her to get a handful of the longest sticks they had gathered. 

She ran off and returned a minute later. He asked if Liz was still awake. Nan said she was and that she was crying. Ann was trying her best to make her comfortable. He told her to rinse his shirt out then make a canopy with it and the sticks to keep the sun off Lisa's face. He watched her do it, she laid the shirt flat on the sand, then tied the sleeves and then opposite ends of the hem to sticks. He told he to rinse the sand off in the water again. She did and wrung the shirt out. She planted the sticks in the sand making a covering a foot and a half or so above Lisa's face. He then told Nan to put his life vest over Lisa's knees. When she did it, he palmed the vest. He told Nan to see if Liz could move, and that if she could, she and Ann should get her in the shade, one of them should sit with her, and the other should look around for a little stream or spring, maybe some fruit tree. 

Nan said she had seen coconuts on the ground. He knew those were worthless without something to crack them open. He guessed Nan knew that too. She said she would look deeper into the trees. He told her not to get lost and not to eat any fruit she picked until they looked at it. She said she wouldn't. He again told her Ann should stay with Liz forgetting that he already had. Nan nodded then asked about Lisa and him getting into the shade. He said they shouldn't move Lisa quite yet and that he'd stay with her. Nan said okay, and then ran to the other girls. 

He had closed his eyes and tried to ignore his throbbing brain. A minute of silence passed and then Lisa broke it. She told him he should go into the shade too, that she would be all right alone. He somewhat recalled telling her to shut up, that he had a headache, and remembered giving her a quick smile. His mouth and throat had been bone dry. It had felt as if his tongue was swelling up. Even more than wanting a drink of water, he wanted to lay down and go to sleep but he sort of remembered that wasn't good to do with a concussion, at least he had thought he shouldn't. 

He asked Lisa if he had told Nan to try to keep Liz awake. She said she couldn't remember if he had. He told her to tell that to Nan when she got back if he forgot to. She said she would. She then looked scared and asked him if he thought her back was broken. He had told her he didn't think it was. He said maybe it was possibly a pinched nerve even though he had absolutely no idea how badly she was injured. They hadn't talked much after that. After a half hour or so, he had moved, turned to face the water, and sat on his ass, with his knees up. He rested a forearm on his knee, and kept his palm on the life vest shading Lisa's legs. He told her to scream at him if she saw him falling asleep. He asked her if she felt like dozing off and she had told him yes, but she would stay awake.

He wasn't sure if he had passed out or fallen asleep for a while, but if he had, Lisa woke him, saying that Nan had been gone a long time. He had asked how long she thought it was. She said about two hours. He had noticed the shadows from his legs had changed on the sand. He turned to look where Ann and Liz were. He raised his arm and waved for Ann to come over. 

She got up and ran to him. He asked if Liz had passed out again, vomited, or fallen asleep at all. She said she had been awake since they moved into the shade and hadn't puked. He told her to go into the forest, not so deep that she couldn't hear the surf and to call for Nan. Call out and then wait to hear an answer, then call out again, like that. Ann looked scared. He told her to help him get over to Liz first. Ann nodded. He asked Lisa if she would be okay alone. She said she'd be fine. 

Ann walked him over to Liz. He sat next to her in the shade very glad to be out of the sun. Ann ran off into the forest. He asked Liz how she was feeling. Her eyes were still teary, she said her head and arm hurt horribly. He told her not to go to sleep and to make sure he didn't go to sleep either. She said okay. He vaguely heard Ann calling out for Nan. A half hour later, he saw a figure appear at the end of the beach beyond Lisa. It was Nan. She had something cradled in her shirt. She was walking fast, almost running. She dropped to her knees next to Lisa. He wasn't sure but he thought she was crying. 

She stayed there for a few minutes, dropped whatever it was she had cradled in her shirt, and then got up and trotted to him. Her eyes were teary when she came up. She told him she had gotten all turned around and lost. She said she found some round yellow fruits but didn't know what they were. She picked a lot of them, then had gotten scared when she heard some animal running through the brush. She had run away from it as fast as she could and had dropped most of the fruits from her shirt, and then she had gotten so lost and all turned around. She had stopped talking then, and started sobbing. 

He pulled her close and put his arm around her. When her crying had subsided, he told her she had to walk back into the forest, not far, but to call for Ann. She was calling for her somewhere not very far in. He told her to always be able to hear the surf and not go deeper than that. He had seen she was still scared to death but she got up and jogged into the palms. Ten minutes later she returned running with Ann. They were both breathing heavily when they dropped to their knees. A few moments later, Nan stood up and said she'd check on Lisa and get the fruit she had picked.




Island



He had actually said a silent prayer that the fruit would be edible. He tried to recall the natural island fruits a couple of his students had introduced him to on a few hikes he had taken into the rain forest mountains on Oahu. All he could remember were strawberry guava. Those were basically worthless. They needed something juicy. He couldn't remember any juicy wild fruit. Nan came back a few minutes later, holding the hem of her tee shirt, the fruits bunched against her abdomen. 

She dropped to her knees and let the fruits roll onto the sand. He recalled he had grinned widely and felt a little relief wash over him. Nan asked if they could eat them. He looked at the yellow perfectly round and smooth billiard ball sized spheres. He had said yes, they could eat them, they were passion fruits. He told her and Ann to wash them in the surf, one at a time so they didn't lose any of them. The girls quickly took them down to the water. Liz said she had never been so thirsty. They came back with the nine fruits cradled in their tee shirts. 

He asked for one and told Nan to cup her hands under his and catch any juice. He tried to use his thumbs to open it but couldn't. He bit into it. A stab of pain filled his head and he cringed for a few moments, then pulled the fruit from his mouth. He tasted citrus. He split the fruit in two with his thumbs and looked at the slimy orange colored nodules. He bought the smaller piece up to his mouth then licked and poured the contents into his mouth. He ran it around his mouth and felt himself salivate. He chewed and felt the crunch of the seeds between his teeth. It had made his head hurt worse. The fruit was delicious. 

Ann asked what the little black things were. He told her they were the best part, grinned, then told her they were seeds and they should chew them. He told them to eat one each. The additional throbbing pain was still in his head from that initial bite. He told Ann to open up the one for Liz, then told Nan to take two, one for herself and one for Lisa and that he'd go over with her to see how she was doing. 

He gave her the other half of the one he had opened and told her to eat half slowly. He told the other girls to eat slowly. Nan handed the remaining portion to him and he finished the rest of it.

When they got to Lisa, she had smiled at him and said, "Hi, long time no see." 

He smiled at the old fashion greeting, and told her Nan had discovered a delicacy. Passion fruit. Lisa said she thought Nan had found a pool hall in the forest when she saw the fruit. He told Nan to open one for Lisa. He wasn't sure what Lisa should do or not do regarding her back and she had said it was painful moving her arms. He really didn't think her injury was extremely bad, but he realized again he didn't know one way or the other. Nan fed her the slimy fruit slowly so she wouldn't choke. Nan then ate one herself, savoring ever morsel. 

He told Nan to get out of the sun, that he'd stay with Lisa. Nan went back to Ann and Liz but returned fifteen minutes later. She asked him if it would be okay to walk Liz over so they could all be closer together. He said if she wasn't nauseous, or really dizzy when she stood up they should come over but that she and Ann should hold her arms. He added that it was a good idea and then wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself. 

He watched the girls slowly walk to the shade of the coconut palms behind him and Lisa. Nan came down to them and said Liz hadn't felt like puking. He said that was good. Lisa had then asked why he was so concerned about that. He told her he thought it was a sign of a really bad concussion. She looked scared for a moment, then pointed out he had been vomiting. He ignored the comment and said he thought Liz would be fine because she hadn't passed out since waking up after they had set her arm. He stared at Lisa and suddenly wondered why he had told Nan to open Liz's vest and feel around her back. It might have been a terribly stupid thing to do.

As dusk approached he started worrying about tides and high waves again. He asked Lisa if she thought she could stand the pain of being pulled by her life vest and slid on the sand to the palm trees. She immediately said she wanted to try it. 

He called Ann and Nan over. Told them to take his shirt canopy down and clear the flotsam in a path from Lisa straight to the trees. He moved to Lisa's feet, held her ankles and told her he was going to move her legs back down but if it hurt at all she should tell him right away. She said okay. When he moved her petite feet only an inch, Lisa's body stiffened and trembled. He stopped. He asked Ann to flatten out his vest. He told her to slide it under Lisa's feet up to her butt when he raised her legs. He asked Lisa if she wanted to try that, so her feet could slide on the sand. She agreed. He told her to tell them to stop if it was painful. 

He grasped her calves and raised her legs slightly. Lisa's body stiffened again but she didn't say anything. Ann quickly slid the vest into position. He lowered her feet to it. He asked Lisa how she was doing and she said fine. He hadn't thought he could pull her up the sand without falling down, passing out, or vomiting. He got too dizzy and nauseous bending forward. 

He looked at Nan and Ann. Nan's body was nearly Lisa's twin. She was petite but had a feminine muscle definition. He told her to grip the shoulders of Lisa's vest and when they were ready she'd pull Lisa, sliding her on the sand. He told her to try to keep going until they reached the trees unless Lisa said to stop. She nodded at him. He had thought starting up would be the worst for Lisa.

He told Ann to hold and slide the vest with Lisa's feet at the same speed as Nan pulling. He said he'd crawl along and hold Lisa's knees together with his palm so she wouldn't tense any muscles and stay as relaxed as possible. 

He asked if everyone was ready. They all said yes. He told Nan to pull steady, not jerk Lisa, and not go too fast or too slow. He said, "Ready... set... go." They started moving. Lisa obviously felt some pain but didn't say stop, although they did halt twice before getting to the palms. Nan apologized profusely for stopping each time. Lisa had told her she was doing great each time. Finally they were all together in one group under the shade of the palms. 

It began getting dark and the temperature began dropping but it was very humid and still probably around 80F. As it grew darker he asked Nan if she could remember where the passion fruit tree had been. She said she wasn't sure but thought she could find it again. He told them to each eat another fruit. Nan picked up two. She bit into Lisa's and then her own. She took turns feeding Lisa and herself. Ann helped Liz eat hers. He had sat there listening to their slurping looking out to sea. 

It was Lisa who noticed. She asked him why he wasn't eating his. Nan said something like, "Oh god, there wasn't enough." Lisa had insisted he take half of hers but he had said he wasn't thirsty. She had said, "Bullshit," and told Nan to give him half. He had taken one suck of the slimy fruit and then handed it back to Nan, telling Lisa that was all he wanted. He had then played the slimy nodules around in his mouth until they had disappeared. 

After the fruit was finished, he said they might as well try to get as comfortable as possible for the night. He said he thought someone should always be awake to hold Lisa's knees together. He said he'd do it first until he was too sleepy, then he'd wake up Ann, and she would then wake up Nan when she got too sleepy, and Nan should wake him up when she got too sleepy. No one had expected Liz to help. 

Nan then asked why they couldn't just roll up one of the life vests and stick that under Lisa's knees. He recalled he blinked and almost laughed at his own stupidity. He told Nan it was a much better idea. Nan rolled her vest up and put it under Lisa's knees. 

He had asked Liz how bad she was feeling. She said her head was still pounding, and her arm hurt a lot. It was all black and blue. He could see they were all worried about it, he was too, but not as worried as he was about her concussion. He wasn't sure he or Liz should sleep at all but knew it was going to be impossible not to sleep. He had also been terribly worried about Lisa's back.

He looked at Lisa and asked her how she was doing. She said about the same. He wished he or Nan had thought of using the vest earlier. When everyone got comfortable. He moved down to Lisa's feet. The light was fading fast. He had seen her smile at him. He recalled the exact exchanged they had. He started to ask, "Are you getting too hot with..." The rest of the sentence was going to be, "...your vest on?" 

She interrupted though, and said "With you next to me?" She had smiled at him. 

He looked at the other girls but they were all talking softly. No one else had heard the exchange. He told Lisa to get to sleep. Her unexpected attempt at humor gave him hope everything was going to be all right somehow. He looked out at the ocean and decided it would be best if didn't sleep. It was obvious he had a very bad concussion.