The Island
“What the hell is that smell?”
The thought had barely registered when the whole thing came rushing back. The storm. The waves. The wind.
Brad opened his eyes and rolled over to see the rolling waves with the sun-baked seaweed reeking on the beach. He ran his fingers quickly through his sun-bleached hair as he looked back and forth down the beach. The only thing in either direction was the Minnow, fully beached, and rotting seaweed.
His head hurt.
Every muscle in his body ached as he climbed to his feet and half-trotted down to the boat. The port side of the hull was essentially gone. From the debris that hadn’t been washed away by the surf, it looked as if it had been scraped off as the boat was dragged up the beach. How did it get so far up the beach?
And where were the girls? He felt bad that he hadn’t thought of them first. He quickly looked down the beach again for signs of the four women he had taken on the tour, and now that he was on the other side of the boat, he saw a human shape further down.
He ran as quickly as he could, head pounding with each step, to where she lay.
She was on her hands and knees by the time he arrived and dropped to his knees next to her. “Thank God, you’re alive. Are you okay, Janet?”
He wanted to help, but she shrugged him off when he touched her shoulder, so he just watched, helpless, as she tried to compose herself, breathing heavy. Her wavy brown hair was caked with sand, and obscured her face. The ends disappeared into the wet sandy beach. It made him conscious of the sand he was still covered in, and it began to itch in the sun. He trembled, despite the heat from the sun.
After a minute she rolled over, sat down, and looked around. Brad hadn’t noticed her eyes yesterday. Was it yesterday? Earlier today? Now they darted around, big, brown, wide, while her eyebrows tried to push them closed to protect them from the sun. “Where are we?”
Brad looked around again. There were no houses or buildings on the beach, and there were no people. “I don’t know. But help shouldn’t be too far. I think it’ll be faster to walk down the beach for help instead of going through the trees though.”
“Where are the others?” Janet was staring at the beached Minnow.
Brad didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.
Janet was staring at him now. “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the captain, aren’t you?”
It felt like an eternity before he was finally able to answer feebly, “We made it to the beach, maybe they did too.” He looked down the beach again. “We need to start walking. Find help. Maybe find the others.”
Brad held out his hand to help her up, but she ignored it.
“Oh my God,” she half grunted as she reluctantly stood. “My whole body hurts. My head hurts. My chest hurts.”
“Me, too. We were probably swimming for hours. Who knows how much water we swallowed. It’s weird that I can’t remember much. Do you want to wait here? I can’t imagine help being that far away. There’s not too much uninhabited beach in this part of Florida. I shouldn’t be gone...”
“You want to leave me behind?” interrupted Janet. “Like Erin, Jen, and Jacki? Not a chance.”
He turned sharply, and saw the anger on her face. She really believed this was his fault, and that he left them. “This is not my fault,” he defensively. “That storm came out of nowhere. I did what I could getting them life jackets, and keeping the boat pointed into the swells, but I can’t recall a storm ever coming up that fast. I’d say you’re lucky to be alive. Besides, you don’t know that they’re dead yet. We’re not.”
With that, he turned and stomped up the beach.
Janet scowled, but followed anyway. “What the hell is that smell,” she asked.
- - -
They hadn’t gone far before Brad realized that they weren’t where he thought they were. Nearing what he thought was the beach turning into towards a bay, it became apparent that the beach was simply turning, and the closer he got, the better he could see that there was no shoreline in the distance. He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair as he eyed the endless water. He felt himself trembling again, and wondered if he had actually stopped.
“What’s the problem,” Janet asked as she stopped and looked across the water.
His mouth was dry as he answered, “There’s no coast line. We’re not in Florida anymore.”
Fear, mixed with sarcasm, was clearly audible in Janet’s voice. “Is this a joke? You’re joking right? How do you know we’re not in Florida? How could you possibly know we’re not in Florida, just by walking a hundred yards...”
Brad, short on patience, cut her off. “Look. There’s no coastline.” His voice was stern. “You can’t hide something as big as Florida.”
Janet stared out across the water. “Maybe it’s further around the bend,” she said trying to sound hopeful, but failing.
Brad shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He paused, and looked around absently for a minute. “Wait, here. I’m going to grab a couple waters out of the boat.” He wasn’t thirsty, but wanted to be prepared.
“What? Wait. What do you need water for?” Janet sounded annoyed.
So many emotions for one person, Brad thought. “I don’t know how far we’re going to have to walk,” he called back as he ran towards the Minnow.
- - -
Brad sat leaning against a palm tree looking over the water. He felt better after finally rinsing the sand from his hair and body, but still itched from the salt water.
He looked over at the unopened water bottles from the hike around the island. It had taken them, he guessed, about four hours to walk the shoreline. About twelve miles? The lagoon cut in quite a ways, so the island was probably more like ten miles round. There was no other landmass in sight from any direction, and not a single ship on the water. He still wasn’t thirsty, and he wasn’t sure yet why that bothered him more than the fact that they were stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere. Or what seemed to be nowhere.
He looked over towards Janet. She sat on the back bench of the Minnow, and hadn’t moved in hours. Earlier, when she had blown up at him after coming around the last bend in the island, and seen the Minnow from the other direction... She lost it. She blamed him for the death of her friends, getting beached on this island, the storm, the funeral they were going to have for her in a few days, not being able to go to the funeral for her friends, not being able to say goodbye to Jamie, her husband, and she probably would have gone on, but Brad thought for sure the sobbing was going to turn into hyperventilating. But, she simply stopped and ran to the Minnow, with a final “I hate you,” left drifting on the wind and in his mind. Wow, what a bitch, he had thought at the time. Now, he felt bad for her.
He watched the sun set as he thought about Alison, his own wife, and wondered what she was doing. Probably a mess, like Janet. It’s only been a day, so they’re probably still looking, and feeding her empty reports. “We’ll keep looking,” they’re telling her, knowing they’ll only look for so long. “Which sucks, because they’re looking in the wrong place,” thought Brad. “They’re not going to find us. I’ll get off this island purely by accident, years from now, if I don’t die, and I’ll be like Tom Hanks. You’ll be married to someone else.”
- - - Day: 3 - - -
“Baby face.”
Brad looked at Janet. It was the first time she had spoken to him, but there was still no emotion in her voice. “What?” he asked.
“It’s been three days and you haven’t needed to shave,” she said quietly. Flatly.
Brad rubbed his face. It wasn’t the first time since landing here, but it was the first time he actually thought about rubbing his face. She was right. It was as if he had just shaved this morning.
He shook his head and looked around uselessly. “I have to shave every day. You should be able to see a good amount of growth. It should start to itch in a day or two.”
“I haven’t shaved my legs since we got here,” she said, looking down. She ran her hand absently along the side of her smooth calf. “It doesn’t grow real fast, but three days? My legs should feel like sandpaper.”
Brad didn’t say anything. He continued rubbing his face, and stared at the little pile of snacks and bottled water he had pulled out of the Minnow. It should have been gone. He had only packed enough for a three-hour tour, yet here it was three days later, and it hadn’t been touched. Neither one of them had felt like eating or drinking since their arrival on the island, and so far, there had been no ill effects: no loss of energy, no dehydration, and apparently, no hair growth.
Janet was still absently rubbing her leg, but looking at the food and water. "Maybe we're wrong. Maybe we are dead," she whispered.