I gasp. “You’re going to kill them!” I say, my voice a squeak. Oh, Jesus Christ on a cracker, he’s killing rodents for dinner. My stomach swirls with nausea, and I’m afraid I’m going to lose the coconut I ate.
“Stay here,” he orders, then he’s gone.
As if I’m going after him on his rodent-hunting mission? I close my eyes and whimper. How did I get here? This is torture. Am I dreaming? No, I’m not, but if I were it would definitely be a nightmare or something.
I whimper when I hear a scuffle and squealing, and I shove the heels of my hands into my eye sockets.
Oh God oh God oh God.
In a few minutes he comes back, holding several limp carcasses in his hand.
“Oh my God, you did not,” I moan, covering my mouth with my hand. “I’m not eating them!”
He laughs mirthlessly and shakes his head. “You can be a princess and starve to death or eat and live. You can skip the agoutis.”
Agoutis?
“Suit yourself. Don’t eat them, even though half a dozen Latin American countries consider them fine dining.” He’s sitting outside the cave doing something with his knife, but I can’t bear to look. “But don’t come crying to me when you’re so hungry you can’t even remember your own fucking name.”
“I’ll find my way out of here,” I insist. “I’ll get back on that ship.”
He doesn’t reply, just continues his preparation with his knife. When he’s done, he brings them to an open space surrounded by large rocks that looks like a fire pit of sorts.
“We should be safe here,” he says. “Will ought to be hiding from me, not looking to attack, though we we’ll take precautions.”
I draw in a breath and let it out slowly. “Can you tell me anything at all about this place? How you got here?” I ask him. “I—I’m completely in the dark.”
He gives me a grim smile, and I have to look away as he begins skewering the skinned animals on sticks.
“Now that I’ve had a little something to eat? Yes. My name is Admiral Cy Kaufman. US Navy SEAL. I, and five of my companions, landed on this island. We don’t know how we got here. We have no idea how to get off. We don’t know how long it’s been.”
“How many of you were there?”
“Six, but now there are only two. I think.”
I stifle a groan. “And I take it the other guy isn’t friendly.”
“Yep.” He turns the sticks over the fire, and to my surprise, it smells like roast chicken.
“You keep saying this doesn’t make sense,” I say. “What doesn’t?”
He waves his hand at the forest. “All of it. The way…” his voice trails off and he points to his temple. “The way I think. The way I act. The fact that we had literally almost nothing to eat for days, then suddenly you show up and there’s food practically falling from the sky. You come on a boat, after years and years of no one coming here at all? It doesn’t add up.”
It doesn’t make any sense to me either. “Were you all Navy SEALs?”
A muscle clenches in his jaw as he turns the meat over the fire. “Don’t remember.”
I nod slowly. “What can you tell me about your life back in the states?”
His eyes meet mine, panicked for a moment, before they shutter. “I’ve forgotten a lot, but what I do remember comes in waves. I know I was in the military. I know I was raised in foster homes. I know my name is Cy Kaufman.”
I don’t respond at first, worrying my lip and looking away from him. Either he’s undergone some type of trauma that impacted his memory, or someone tampered with him. And if someone’s tampered with him…
I shove the thought away. Sometimes my imagination gets away from me. I have to stay logical.
“What about you?” he asks.
“What about me?” I frown at him. It makes me uncomfortable turning the attention onto me.
“Who are you? Why are you here? What do you do?”
I shrug. “A few weeks ago, I got notified that I’d won an all-inclusive cruise. I almost didn’t take it. I have—”
No, I’m not going to tell him about Daniel. I’m not sure how much I want to tell him.
“I have a job I’m responsible for,” I tell him. “But something like this doesn’t come up often, so I took the opportunity.”
He nods, removing the roasted meat from the fire. “And you went on the cruise. You checked it out ahead of time?”
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t a scam?”
“Of course not. I’m here, aren’t I?”
He purses his lips and slides the meat off the stick onto one of the shells. “My point precisely.”
I don’t understand what he’s talking about. I look about the cave. It’s dark and cooler than on the beach, but the back of the cave opens behind us. I shiver. I hate to think of what creatures could come join us. I want out of here. I remember my room on the cruise ship, luxuriously appointed and cozy. And my home—God, my home, that I worked so hard to furnish so it was my little haven. My house in the country, a fair drive away from the city, small but idyllic, with its wrap-around porch and swing and maples by the front yard. The interior was decorated in “modern country” design, complete with refinished wood and minimalistic decor. It was my little oasis.