“We have to go, but we do not fucking trust them,” he says, and he’s got the look in his eyes he had more frequently when I first met him. They’re narrowed, his brows drawn together. His lips are pressed in a thin line, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. Even his shoulders are tight, his arms flexing as he reaches for the knives we have. “But we don’t go unarmed.”
I swallow hard. What will it look like, the two of us coming aboard a cruise ship, bedraggled like this? I’m practically naked, and he’s bare-chested and sunburnt. Our hair is long and windblown, the steady diet of fruit and fish and coconut, combined with the regular training we do here, making us both thin, muscular, and lithe. We look like island natives or something.
But he’s right. We can’t go unarmed. It’s too damn dangerous.
I arm myself like he does, and it’s like we both realize the same thing at the same time: this could be our only chance to get off here, and if we don’t take it, we’re screwed. We could be stuck here forever. For fucking ever.
We both begin to run, crashing through the trees, even though we know that arriving on the ship brings us right into the lair of whoever orchestrated our abduction, capture, and imprisonment. We run, because if we don’t, we might never get a chance again. We run, because we have to.
And as we run toward the ship, the sound of laughter and chatter reaches our ears, along with another, strange sound, a sound I’ve only heard once since I arrived here.
Chop chop chop.
I hear it before Cy does, because I freeze, and he’s still running.
“What the hell?” he asks.
“Listen!”
A helicopter’s drawing nearer. Once while on the island we heard a helicopter, but that time was different. It was in the midst of a storm, and Cy nearly killed himself trying to get the attention of the pilot. But this time… this time, we’re torn.
“What the fuck?” he mutters. “What the fuck?”
“Is it military?” I ask him, but he shakes his head.
“No idea.”
Who do we trust? Is it the cruise ship that’s come to pull us further into deception? Is the helicopter even landing? How could we have gone from complete isolation to two chances at rescue? Are they messing with us?
“Let’s go on the ship,” I finally suggest. “I mean, I don’t know what else we can do, do you?”
He shakes his head. “Jesus,” he mutters. “Christ.”
It will have to come clear in the end. It has to.
“Yeah,” he says with a sigh, and he pulls me closer to him as if to protect me. “I don’t like this one fucking bit.”
“Me neither,” I whisper.
We can see people mulling about the beach, but only a few. Half a dozen, maybe? They must be in league with whomever was responsible for us being here. They have to be.
I want to run to the beach and scream, waving my hands for rescue. I want to run back to the shelter, hide with Cy, lock and barricade the door.
I do neither.
Someone sees us before we see them. She’s an older woman wearing a black lacy sarong, and a pair of matching black sandals. Her hair is wrapped up in some kind of turban on her head, like she came here on vacation. Is she playing a part?.
She blinks and looks at me. “Oh my God! You’re her!”
I look to Cy and he looks back to me. Wary. He doesn’t make a move.
“Hey!” she screams toward the cruise ship. “It’s her! The woman who got lost!”
It’s confusing and awkward as we walk toward the cruise ship. Oh, God, I want to get on there. I want to eat the food they have and take a shower and lay in a comfortable bed. But what’s happening? What tricks are they playing on us?
I don’t trust her, or any of them, even though it feels real. As she screams, uniformed members of the crew come on deck and look us over. “Come!” the woman says, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the ship. I shrug her off, but then there’s two of them holding me.
“Get your hands off her,” says Cy, and he reaches for me, but the women on either side of me hold up their hands in surrender.
“Okay, it’s fine! We’re just excited to see her! She was all over the news. They told us she got lost, and now we found her!”
They… seem like they’re telling the truth? But I don’t trust them. I don’t trust anyone.
But, God, I want to get back home so badly I could cry, so I get on the ship. A large, tall, well-dressed man in a uniform steps in front of me, and it’s actually a relief when he looks me and Cy over from head to toe.