“Would you like the honors?” he asks, presenting the lighter.
“No, let’s do it together,” I tell him. “That feels right.”
His smile broadens. “Together.”
We walk over to the wood and kindling, and Elliot and I both squat. After a heavy rain, I’m satisfied that wildfire risk has abated some, and Elliot has managed to build a slim rock barrier, too, a gesture I appreciate.
He holds the lighter out, and I place my hand over his. It takes us a few tries to coordinate, thumbs awkwardly thumbing, but then we flick it together.
A tiny orange flame ignites. We lower it to the kindling, and the fire spreads, smoldering and smoking until more flames spark to life.
The first signal fire grows, and we light the other two. They cast flames as dusk draws in, and the world is transformed.
Elliot and I move close to the heat. He stands beside me, scratching the back of his head.
“We’re getting rescued,” he says, and the flames pop, reaching higher.
A broad smile fills my face. We did it, and I’m warm all over. “We’re going home.”
We both laugh, and I turn my attention to the clams. There’s only a half dozen, but that’s basically a feast to us. “This flat rock will work,” I say as I take them over and squat next to the middle fire. “Once they’re steaming inside, they should pop open on their own.”
“Hot food,” Elliot says as he squats next to me, and I use two sticks to carefully place a clam at the edge of the flames. “You got us hot food, Hank.”
I nod, satisfied with a growing sense of accomplishment, and turn my eyes up to the darkening, cloudy sky. “Once the flames are built up, they should be visible for miles,” I tell him as I search for a plane.
A clam pops open on the rock, and Elliot knocks the steaming shellfish out of the flames with a stick. “Mollusk up!”
I give it a minute to cool before picking it up, but can’t pry it fully open with one hand. “Here,” Elliot says, helping me.
“Thanks.” My hands are shaking; I want the food so much. “Let’s split the first one,” I say.
Elliot inhales deeply, steam rising into his nostrils. “No, you found them,” he says. “You first.”
I tilt the mollusk to my mouth and slurp, swirling my tongue in the shell. The protein and fat ignite my brain, and a craving to devour overwhelms me as I lick the gritty shell and drag my tongue over my fingers.
“Holy wow,” I manage.
When I look up, Elliot is knocking another clam from the fire. He doesn’t wait for it to cool. Instead, he tosses it between his fingers and winces as he works it open the rest of the way. When he’s ready, he sticks the shell in his mouth and sucks the meat out.
I drop my shell. The sky is dark and the wind chilly, but sweat is dripping down my chest, and a wild energy dances in the air as Elliot chews and gnaws the flesh from his clam.
We don’t say a word—we just focus on eating. I nibble a few berries while I watch the clams cook in the fire, flames heating my skin. When the next mollusk is done, I suck and chew on the rich, buttery fat of the meat until I scrape it free from the shell with my teeth. I gnaw the gills and the foot muscles, slurping from the mantle.
Elliot sits on the ground, licking his shell and moaning.
There’s a crash, maybe a branch falling, and we both startle and turn, looking into the dark woods.
“Bear?” he asks me.
“The island probably isn’t even big enough to sustain deer, although seals and porpoises we might expect to see if we were here longer.”
“That’s cute.”
“Trust me, either could give you a serious problem. But unless you go harassing them, you shouldn’t worry.” As I talk, Elliot gets a bemused look on his face, like he’s considering an adventure, and I stress, “Never go near seals.”
Good thing we’re almost out of here. Lately, Elliot’s been helping instead of bringing the chaos, but every minute stranded provides fresh opportunity for disaster.
Another clam pops, and we each startle again before laughing.
