Can’t see much of anything—it’s raining too hard—but I think the dock house got struck by lightning. The gods are smiting us for our wickedness.
“Did we get hit?” I shout, holding a hand up to my face as rain comes through the crack in the door that Lucky peers through. “The lightning rod worked?”
It must have, because we’re still standing. “Can’t see anything,” Lucky says, coming back to hurriedly slip his clothes on,and I do the same, a little panicked. After a minute or so, when the rain slows enough for us to open the door all the way and prop it back with the cooler, we both stick our heads outside to assess the damage. I notice that a utility light is now shining down on the sign. It’s probably automatic, one that has a sensor that detects when it’s dark and triggers it to turn on. I’m so busy thinking about this that I don’t notice that Lucky is frozen.
He’s staring agog at the pier.
What’s that funny smell?
Oh God.
He’s not staring at the pier, because there is no pier. There’s only a single wooden pole where it was once attached to the land, and it’s scorched black and smoking. Pieces of wood drift on the surface of the dark water in every direction as if they were hit by a bomb. And theNarwhal…
Our boat is currently unmoored, afloat on the horizon, a good quarter mile away from the island, dragging half the pier behind it.
The dock house wasn’t struck by lightning.
The pier was.
We’re both too dumbfounded to react for several moments. Then thunder rumbles again in the distance, and Lucky shakes himself roughly, scattering rain droplets over both of us.
We’re stranded on an island.
Nobody knows we’re here.
And I just had sex for the first time.
With my best friend.
Oh my dear lord … I think I’m going to pass out. I snap my seasickness wristbands over and over, as if that will magically help the situation somehow.
“Okay,” Lucky says, voice strained. “Let’s just be rational here.”
“Rational,” I agree.
“I could swim out and get it … ?” he says, voice going up an octave, as if he can’t believe he’s suggesting it himself, but he can’t think of anything else to do.
Panic fires through my limbs. “Out there? Outthere?”
“Well? It looks like the pier was hit, not the boat.”
I point emphatically. “Who cares? It’s already God-only-knows-how-far out in the ocean. You can’t swim that! You could drown. Die. There are sharks in the bay!”
“Only dogfish and sandbars.”
“At the rate we’re going, your mythical kraken is probably down there!”
“Josie—”
“No, Lucky—absolutely not. You aren’t Saint Boo. You don’t have extra cat lives to risk on stupid feats of machismo—so forget it. We’ll just call your dad, and he’ll come get us. He’s got a tugboat thing-y, right? So even if theNarwhalis dead in the water, he can tow it. That’s what he does.”
“No signal.”
“There must be.”
Lucky pushes wet hair out of his eyes. “Already checked, backin the stone circle when you were taking photos. There’s no signal out here. Usually isn’t, once you clear a certain point in the harbor. That’s why you need Wi-Fi onboard.”
I quickly dig out my phone and shield the screen with one hand. Have I really not checked it the entire time I’ve been out here? That must be some kind of record. But he’s right. No signal. Shit! I swing around wildly, trying to figure out what we can do. Surely there’s an emergency call box out here? A rowboat?
