“Run!” I tell her. Once this rain starts, we could lose our way too easily. It was how we lost our second man.
She starts to run, then trips and falls in front of me, mangoes scattering on the ground around her. I leave the fruit and take her by the arm, helping her to her feet, but she’s slipping in the mud. Without thinking, I give her the fruit I’m carrying to hold, lift her into my arms and carry her back to the shelter.
“The mangoes!” she shouts.
“We have plenty for now,” I tell her, shouting to be heard above the sound of the wind. We make it in time, just as an enormous tree branch crashes on the ground behind us and lightning tears across the sky. I place her down in the shelter and shut and secure the door behind us.
“Wow, that came on so fast,” she muses.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Is that always the way it is?”
I shake my head. “Sometimes we just get a little rain, then we go for days and days with nothing but heat. But when a storm comes in, it comes hard and fast. And they’re dangerous as hell. Flooding, winds so hard they rip full trees out of the ground, and I worry we’ll eventually see a tornado.”
She nods, then sits on the floor cross-legged.
“Hopefully we’ll be fine this time.”
I nod, and we take the fruit and vegetables out of the bag.
“So, Cy. You keep saying this food wasn’t here before. Where would it have come from? It’s not like someone air-dropped a pile of mangoes from the sky.”
“Yeah. I have no idea.” I really don’t.
“It’s unsettling,” she says, worrying her lip.
“It is.” In silence, I peel some of the fruit and hand it to her. It feels like a feast, with the coconut and fresh, tropical fruit. I wish I could enjoy it, though. I like to be in control, and the unpredictable nature of this island makes me feel anything but.
“We can use the callaloo for turtle soup later, if we can catch a turtle.”
She grimaces but nods. “Feels wrong, but okay. I’ve eaten stuff like that before.”
I smile at her, drinking the remains of one coconut. I’m proud of her. She’s getting over her aversions quicker than I expected. “Have you?”
“Yes, but it was in a restaurant, not for survival.”
I wonder who she is, that she even ate in a high-end restaurant.
I snort. “Well that makes perfect sense. Just like how lobster used to be a mainstay for the poor and somehow became a delicacy.”
“Not sure I’d want the lobster without butter,” she muses, and that we definitely do not have. The wind howls outside. In silence, we clean up the shells and rinds, and place them neatly by the door.
“Are you sure that’s just the wind?” she asks.
“What else would it be?”
She looks to the door. “A wolf or something?”
“Yeah.” I don’t reply at first. Then there’s another noise I haven’t heard before, not since before I was on this island, but one I’m very, very familiar with.
I’m at the door before she can stop me, my heart thudding so hard it feels like I might burst.
“Cy?”
I’d know that chop chop chop sound in my fucking sleep.
It’s a helicopter.TwelveHarperHe hears something out there, but I don’t know what since I can’t quite place the choppy sound, and the shrieking wind and rain don’t help. But he told me it’s dangerous out there, and in my gut, I know it to be true. When he opens the door, it’s so dark outside it’s as if it’s night, and a huge branch bigger than I am goes flying past. I scream, covering my mouth when he dives headfirst into the storm. Is he crazy?
“Be careful!” I shout, but he’s already gone. Where the hell is he going?
“Hey!” he’s screaming, waving his arms overhead.
And that’s when I realize what he’s doing. It’s a helicopter. My God, it’s a helicopter.
“Cy!” I shout. “Be careful!” Though I’m as desperate as he is to be rescued, I can’t help but realize they’ll never hear us down here, they’ll never see us. He looks back at me, standing in the doorway.
“First sign of anyone coming to save us,” he says. “I can’t not look. I can’t help but try. I have to go, but don’t follow me. You hear me, Harper? Stay inside.”
And then he’s gone. He just turns away and runs. I take a step toward him, but the wind is so vicious and fierce, it’s a force of its own, pushing me back inside. I wrap my arms around myself and shake my head.
Why is there a helicopter flying overhead?
If it isn’t a plane, does that mean we’re closer to civilization than we think?
But how would we even find that out? I look helplessly at the woods and the machete. We could make a boat, maybe.