His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, dimples appearing on his stubbled cheeks. “If I recall it correctly, you owe me one more favor.” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his good hand, then looked down at his damaged one. “Damn, that’s not very appealing.”
“I don’t want to jinx it, but I think the swelling went down a bit.” It was most likely my wishful thinking, and my tired eyes playing a trick on me. “Does it hurt a lot?”
He moved his fingers and sucked up a hiss through his teeth. “Not at all.”
I laughed. “Are you hungry? I have coconut water, filtered like you showed me, fruit salad, and boiled eggs.”
“Not a grilled fish?” he said in a teasing tone.
“Um, no to that. You haven’t taught me how to use the spear, and there is no way in hell I’m going near those snakes.” I nodded at his hand. “The last two days weren’t fun at all.”
“Boiled eggs and fruit sound great.”
Over our meal in bed, I filled in Hunter on everything I’d done in the last days. He shared with me the unhinged dreams he had, and that he could hear me talking to the cats and lizards.
Leaving our dirty dishes on the table, I climbed onto the bed next to him. My hand held his undamaged one, our fingers interlocking. I closed my eyes with the thought that tomorrow I’d try to get a fish for us. It would be a surprise for him. And for me for sure.
In the early morning hours, Hunter was halfway back to normal. His hand was sore, the skin looked like he burned it, and agonizing pain shot each time he moved his index finger and thumb, but he was mobile. While he was in the shower, I walked to the beach with the spear, determined to catch a fish—but in the regular bay and not the small lagoon. Debating if I should first go for a quick swim, my gaze scanned the calm ocean. And what I saw took my breath away. A sailboat.
I jumped, lifting my arms and waving them like a maniac. “Help!” I shouted with all the power in me. There was no way anyone on that boat could hear me. I needed something to get their attention. It would take too long to build a smoke signal. I needed something quick.
“Hunter!” I yelled, twisting to look at the jungle and then back to look at the ocean. “There’s a boat!” I called louder, backing into the line of trees and sprinting to the hut.
Hunter had promised that Bambi would come looking for me. It was her. She had come to rescue me. I needed to send a distress signal to the boat and not let it leave without us.
Dropping the spear on the porch, I rushed back, yanked on my shorts and the first shirt I saw on the couch. “Hunter!” I called out again so loud my throat hurt.
Throwing the top drawer open, I rummaged through all the crap inside, searching for the flasher pistol. Slamming it closed, I opened the next one and tossed shirts out onto the floor until I found an orange gun at the bottom.
I bolted down the stairs and back to the beach, my feet stumbled over each other as if I were drunk. The boat was on the horizon, but closer to the curve of the island.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” My hands trembled, and I dropped the cartridge. I picked it up and tried again. I shoved the flare shell into the barrel, closed the gun, cocked the hammer, aimed the loaded pistol at the sky. Turning my face away, I pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
With my eyes shut, my finger pressed again.
Nothing.
Panic surged through me as the boat skimmed the curve of the island, barely visible behind black rocks. Damn it. I studied the gun and noticed a button on the side. I pushed it, threw my arm up, and discharged the flare, its boom deafening me for a brief moment. The bright yellow flame burned for less than ten seconds and died out. There was no way someone could have seen that. I reloaded the gun and sent out another one for good measure. I knew I shouldn’t use more and saved the other two shells for the next time.
The boat receded from view, and I held my breath, hoping and begging for it to turn around. The tight, scared feeling wedged in my ribs that the people on the boat hadn’t noticed my signals. Each second moved at a glacial speed, obliterating any hope of mine. I readied to run to the cliff and try the gun again, but dread gave way to relief as the boat returned.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Ankle-deep in the water, I jumped and waved my hands, excitement coursing through my body, not letting me stand still. We were going home.
“Sydney, what are you doing?” Hunter called out to me.
“Look. Our ticket off the island!” I pointed at the white boat, then waved my arms above my head again, bouncing up and down before leaping to Hunter.
He rested his shoulder on a palm tree, his good hand gripping the towel around his waist, water running in multiple streams from his soaking wet hair. Hunter felt somewhat better, but he needed to go to a hospital for proper evaluation by a medical professional and probably get the correct medication. His face had a hint of paleness. He shouldn’t have moved too much yet.
Shielding the sun from his eyes with a hand, Hunter peered at the now anchored boat. A figure standing at the stern was watching us through binoculars. Even from this far, it was obvious that it wasn’t Bambi but a tall man. Who cared who it was? This person was here to save us. I could practically feel the wind on my face as we raced back over the waves to Rarotonga, hear Tina’s voice when I’d call her, and explain what the hell happened to me.Eugh. I also could feel the headache of wrestling with bureaucracy to get my legal documents so I could go home. Something resembling regret yanked on my heart, and I did my best to ignore it.
“I’ll be right back.” Hunter left me on the beach and marched to the hut.
My feet carried me back to the water, skipping and prancing like a kid hyper on sugar, and it was time to open birthday gifts.
