CHAPTER NINE
ELLIOT
Hank fusses with the stacks of wood, focusing on them like they’re a puzzle while gray clouds float through the sky above us. We made it nearly back to the crown of the island before we picked this high spot, and still, there’s no sign of a search party. I’ve been hauling sticks for the past hour with occasional breaks to relieve my stomach distress, focusing the best I can on the fire I insisted we make.
At least we found the cattail shoots, which we’ve each strapped to our feet with fabric. The fibrous plant takes some of the impact from each wobbly step and dulls the pain.
The temperature is dipping as wind tosses across the water and night creeps closer. But the view from this flat spot is amazing, and I’ve even seen a bald eagle soar by a few times, which helps me ignore how hungry and weak I am.
“I think the fuel is set to go,” Hank says carefully, walking along the three stacks we’ve made. “Now we just need to move rocks.”
I stand up from my spot on the ground. “Rocks? That sounds heavy.”
He frowns. “We need to make a barrier. So the fire doesn’t spread.”
I can’t believe Hank is seriously talking about moving rocks right now.
We’ve been getting along fine enough as we work on the fires. He told me about bald eagles while we worked, and I told him about the techno music resurgence, which made him briefly geek out about old music he loves, more animated than I’ve seen him yet.
Naturally, he’s quickly returned to stern determination.
He’s actually pretty funny and impressively quick-witted. In the right circumstances, we could probably get along.
Rocks, though?
“Sounds like an unnecessary use of our energy.” I say, trying to reason on his level.
Hank rubs the back of his head. He’s sweated enough that his white t-shirt is a little see-through again, which is a look he pulls off, sexy without realizing it.
“We’re already in an emergency situation,” he says. “A forest fire would not help.”
“It would possibly get us rescued even faster.”
He tightens his heavy brow.
“Okay, I retract that.” I try to negotiate. “There are a million useful things wecoulddo. Like finding more edible plants, sinceyou keep looking dizzy.”
“Oh.” Hank rubs the back of his head. “Wow. I’m so focused on the task at hand, I forgot about food. And shelter.” He gives me a determined nod. “That’s right. Food and then rocks. And, before dark, shelter.”
I force an optimistic smile, although it’s getting harder to summon. Neither of us has mentioned that the clouds are getting darker and bigger, either.
“How about food and fire,” I suggest as my stomach gurgles. “Maybe mushrooms over the fire? And then home free.”
Hank doesn’t cave. “The risk of a forest fire is a reality whether we acknowledge it or not.”
My emotions wobble, hunger and exhaustion catching up to me.
“Okay. The risk of starvation is real, too. And poisonous snakes. And scary island monsters. But we have a limited amount of energy available to help us navigate these risks, and I honestly don’t think I’m strong enough to move rocks. Can we just light the fire and get rescued?”
Hank grunts. “Scary island monsters are not a real risk.”
I close my eyes, fighting the need to run off and drop my pants again. “I know that,” I tell him, my voice pinched, and open my eyes. “But Hank, seriously. I don’t have it in me to move rocks.”
Hank gives me a sympathetic nod, his resolve softening. “You’re probably dehydrated from all the digestive distress. Maybe you should rest by the creek and sip water while I gather rocks.”
He might be right about the dehydration, but I don’t want him to do all the work. Hank even warned me about the boat water.
I might be projecting because he works at my father’s accounting firm, but I don’t want Hank to see me the way my father sees me. I want to be his partner in this and pull my own weight, not the fuck-up who keeps getting us in trouble and needing to rest.
