Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“I have the stuff. Let’s go,” he called out over the thunder and howling wind.
It felt like déjà vu from the night on the sailboat. We hustled through thick vegetation, grass cushioning my every step. The rain came in earnest as we raced toward the mountain. I was drenched by the time we reached the base.
“I think there is a cave up there.” He pointed. I spotted something like a dark spot and trusted he was right. “Get on my back.”
The mountain was rocky and my feet would likely be torn to shreds racing up it. Agan proved to be strong. With me riding his back monkey style, he also carried our things, including the inflated raft as we didn’t have time to waste letting the air out. We were battered by the pelting rain, as Agan had to take his time, so we didn’t die.
I was shivering when we finally reached the hole in the side of the mountain. Agan set me and the bag down. He went for the bag and dug out the metallic-colored emergency blanket and wrapped it around me.
“Share with me,” I said.
“I’m going to see if there is anything I can use to start a fire.”
As he went deeper into the cave, I shrugged out of the blanket, grabbed two empty water bottles, and stepped to the lip of the cave opening. I held out my arms and watched the bottles get little to nothing captured into them. I went back and found the knife. I cut the bottles at the widest viable part of the neck and went back out into the rain. The wider opening helped and in no time the bottles were full. I went and filled up two empty bottles before going back out in the rain.
The rain continued, and I was able to fill up the remaining empty bottles. When I turned back, Agan was lighting some twigs and brush he’d scrounged up. The fire was small but warm. I handed him one of the newly filled water bottles before getting the blanket and wrapping it around us.
“Thanks for the lift,” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood.
“You’re surprisingly light.”
We laughed until we didn’t. Since the mood was already sobered, I said, “Do you still think we’ll be found?”
He turned to fully face me. “I think something really bad happened, and it’s slowed an emergency response for us. If we can just hold on, we’ll make it.”
That night, I silently prayed that Agan was right. I missed Zoe like crazy. If I thought it would work, I’d swim an ocean back to her.
Day six wasn’t much better. Though it wasn’t raining, the heavy cloud cover promised more showers. We stayed put lounging most of the day, which led to other things. It might have been romantic with the melodic rain that eventually arrived. But even as we moved together in rhythm, our survival was always in the back of my mind.
The skies cleared by the afternoon of day seven. We left our gear to head to base camp and survey the damage, not sure what we would find. With all the rain, the tide could be higher than normal. When we arrived, the ocean nearly covered the dune, and the “HELP” sign had been washed away. There was nothing to be done today. We would try again tomorrow. Instead, we went to the mandarin tree only to find the low-lying area flooded. The limbs also were bare. The storm had blown away most. Any fruit left wasn’t ripe. My spirits were in the dumps by the time we got to the cave.
“I know things look bad, but don’t give up,” he said, pulling me close. I gave in to a moment of weakness and cried. When my tears dried up, I forced myself to keep my fighting spirit.
And I did for the following week. But by the middle of the third, we were out of protein bars. It hadn’t rained for days, and we were down to a bottle and a half of water. A few days before, Agan had put me on his shoulders as we searched the orange tree for any ripe fruit. We’d come up with a few. On the way back, we’d come across a crab that crawled from the mud.
Fortunately, Agan knew how to cook it. I’d never had crabs, but thought they were normally steamed. Agan, however, had cooked the legs over an open fire. He’d used a rock to crack the shells, and we ate meat for the first time in days. We’d paid for it. Either it was bad, or our stomachs resisted solid food after weeks without meat.
That had been a few days ago. Today, my stomach burned with hunger almost as loud as my thirst. We both had been so sick we had to drink to keep dehydration at bay. The water had lasted longer than I imagined, and I was certain Agan hadn’t been drinking much or at all. As we lay in the tent, both too weak to move, I wondered when my eyes closed if it would be the last time.