Annihilate Him (Volume 2)

by Christina Ross

  “I don’t want to know. I’d rather focus on Alex and his health.”

  “Alex is going to be fine.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I think he lost about a pint-and-a-half of blood, which is more than what you’d give at a blood bank. I checked his shirt and his jacket, and I checked my own shirt, and I’m fairly certain about how much blood he lost. So long as infection doesn’t set in, your husband is going to be OK. Now, we need to know if the same is true for your child.” He motioned toward the jungle at our left. “We need to do this.”

  “I don’t want to know, Tank.”

  “You need to at least look. Have you even peed since we’ve been here?”

  “No, but I need to. You can guess why I haven’t.”

  “That’s the thing,” he said. “You’re going to have to look sooner rather than later. But I need for you to remember this—regardless of what you do see, we won’t know for certain if you’ve lost your child until a doctor assesses you. Whatever you see is not conclusive. Your child might still be alive. You need to remain hopeful for that.”

  “I also need to be ready to face the other reality.”

  “If you give up hope now, what good will you be to us and to Alex? You’ve got to remain hopeful, Jennifer. Right now, what do any of us have but hope?”

  I took a breath to calm my nerves. What he said was true. “Nothing,” I said.

  “Then let’s have a look. I’ll walk you to the edge of the jungle, you can move just inside and have a look in private, and then you can tell me what you saw.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “And I’m scared for you. Everyone is.”

  “Alex and I were going to wait two years before we had a child. We had it all planned out. We were going to enjoy our marriage first before we started a family. We were going to live our lives before we changed them by getting pregnant. But when we learned that we were pregnant, we both knew that it was for a reason. And I knew in my heart—just as Alex did—how much I wanted this child. How right and how perfect it was. We saw it as a blessing. I want it more than anything, Tank.”

  “I understand that. But you need to look. So, will you come with me? Just over here? I’ll give you the privacy you need.”

  A sense of dread came over me at the thought of looking, but I knew that, despite my fears, Tank was right. I did need to see for myself whether I’d spotted or hemorrhaged. “Lead the way,” I said. “But don’t stray too far.”

  WHEN WE REACHED THE jungle’s edge, I was a shaking, nervous wreck, which I tried to conceal—but to no avail.

  Tank saw it, knew it, and felt it. He gave me a gentle hug before I walked away from him, and stepped through the tall foliage and beyond a wealth of vines to a place that seemed private enough behind a towering palm tree. I looked up at the tree, and the way the palms hung down like an umbrella, they seemed to dip down to embrace me. It was odd, but the shade and the privacy the tree offered was somehow calming to me. It was as if nature was saying that everything was going to be all right.

  At least that’s what I took from it.

  Even though the sun had been out and baking the island for ours, the jungle was still wet from the storm. I thought of the boars again—and whatever else lurked in the wilds on this island—before I finally gathered the courage to unhook my ruined dress pants and pull them down to my knees.

  Before pulling down my panties, I just stood there in thought and in prayer. I prayed that there would be no blood. I prayed that the cramping I’d experienced earlier had been due to the sheer force of our landing, and for no reason other than that. I prayed for our child, for Alex, and for me. If we lost it, both of us would be heartbroken, but not destroyed. If anything, we’d try again for another child because the gift of this pregnancy had revealed to us just how much we wanted to start a family—even if we hadn’t known it at the time.

  Just get it over with.

  With a quick yank, I lowered my panties and examined them.

  Because my clothes were so soaked with water, it was difficult to tell if I’d spotted or hemorrhaged. But I had bled—there was no question about that. But how much blood was I looking at? A few drops that had spread due to being drenched by the rain? Or was there more than I wanted to admit? I couldn’t tell.

  I needed a second opinion, and as embarrassed and as shamed as I felt, that opinion had to come from Tank. I had no choice but to call for him.

  He came through the jungle only moments after I called his name.

  “I bled,” I said.

  “How much?”

  I shrugged at him. “That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t know. I need you to see what I see. My clothes are still damp, and I can’t tell how much blood there is. Because of the rain, it’s spread out. I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but would you mind looking at my panties?” I felt a rush of humiliation as I repeated myself. “I can’t believe I’m asking this of you.”

  “I’m trained for this, Jennifer. Just hold your top down to cover yourself, and I’ll see nothing but your panties. I promise. That’s all I need to see. It will take only a moment, and then we’ll be done.”

  And he was right. Tank gave a swift look, and then he told me to pull up my pants.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “You’ve only spotted,” he said. “It’s possible that you haven’t lost it.”

  “You can’t be serious?” I said. “What about the cramping?”

  “I’m not saying that you haven’t lost it—I said that it’s possible that you haven’t. I have a lot of medical training, but I’m no doctor, Jennifer. What I’m saying is that what I saw is a positive sign. There’s no way that you’ve hemorrhaged—if you had, it would have been much worse than that. That’s the good news. That’s the best news. Now, we need to address the other issue.”

  “What other issue?”

  “How to protect you going forward.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS THE CUSP OF dusk when Tank, Alexa, Daniella, and Blackwell finished our makeshift shelter just outside the jungle on the site where Cutter and Tank first carried us after we landed. Toward the end of the job, Lisa was feeling well enough to help out as well. When they were finished, the result was a good-sized hut made from the surrounding palm trees, which they had layered heavily at the roof of the hut so that we could get through the night should the rain come again. I felt guilty for not having helped, but each time I tried, I was warned away by all of them. I was told to sit down next to Alex, which I did.

  And when I did, I told him about my walk with Tank.

  “So, there’s a chance?” he said.

  “I don’t want to get our hopes up, but there might be one.”

  “Tank said you only spotted.”

  “Yes, but what he didn’t feel were the cramps that I felt. They were crushing at first. They were incredibly painful. And we’re only a month into the pregnancy, so how much blood would there be? I don’t have the answer to that question, but I know what I felt, and I need to be honest with you about it. I am going to remain hopeful about this, but we need to be realistic. We might have lost our child. We might have—”

  And that’s all it took—the moment I said those words, I started to cry.

  Alex swept me into his arms, and held me while I sobbed harder than I had since we’d landed. I started to cry so hard, that it became a heaving cry, which I knew wasn’t good for our child, should it indeed be alive. So once again, I forced myself to pull back—and to instead pull hard on my husband’s love and strength.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  He looked bewildered at me. “For what?”

  “For ruining our family.”

  “What are you talking about? Jennifer, you haven’t done anything. What you and I both need to be grateful for is that we survived that crash. And that most of our friends did. You need to put this into perspective. We could be dead. Those who are with us now could be dead. But we�
��re alive. We’re here for a reason. If we lose this child, we need to look at the big picture. Yes, it will be devastating. But we’ll try for another. I had thought I wouldn’t be ready to start a family so soon, but when you told me that you were pregnant, I knew at once that I wanted to start a family. If for some godforsaken reason that’s not to be, then we’ll start again. And we won’t wait two years to do so. Do you agree?”

  “I can’t imagine losing it.”

  “I can’t either. And I pray to God that we haven’t. But if we do, we need to mourn that loss and take the necessary time to accept it, and then we need to try again. I want you to have my child. My children. More than ever, I want us to have a family.”

  “I love you so much, Alex.”

  “You have no idea how much I love you. Or what I’d do to protect you.”

  I swept his hair out his eyes. “Your voice sounds better—it’s not as rough. How does your throat feel?”

  “It’ll heal. I’m strong. I don’t know what hit me when we crashed, but it must have been substantial to knock me down like this. You’ll see. With food and water in my stomach, I’m already feeling better. I’ll be even better by morning.”

  “Morning,” I said. “There’s so much to do. We need to find fresh drinking water. We have some food for tonight, but that’s it. Tomorrow, we’ll need to look for fruit to eat. There has to be some on this island, and I know for a fact that Alexa will be all over that. After that wild boar attack, which you thankfully missed for the most part, we also need to protect ourselves from predators. I also think we need to build something large on the beach that says ‘SOS’ if only so those who are looking for us can spot us.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Do you think they will?”

  Alex had never once lied to me, and he didn’t now. “I don’t know. I’m not sure where the cockpit was dropped when it broke away from us, although it must be near here. I’m also not sure if the box will still be operational after that explosion. It should be—it’s designed to sustain a substantial blow. But a crash and three explosions? I’m not sure. I guess we’ll have to wait and see. We should know in a day or two whether those signals are being picked up.”

  “A day or two?”

  “We’re somewhere in the South Pacific, which means it will take time for people to reach us. You need to be prepared for that.”

  “I’m worried about Cutter.”

  “So am I.”

  “He’s such a good man. We can’t lose him, too.”

  “Maybe we won’t. Maybe he’s still out there, recuperating. Laying low because he knows he has to heal before he moves. Who knows how badly he was hurt? But he’s a survivalist by nature and by training. I’m praying that he’ll just suddenly show up. That he’ll surprise all of us with his presence. And then you know what we’re going to do? We’re going to take all of those little bottles of alcohol he brought off the plane, and we’re going to get drunk. I know why he grabbed them—to pour over any wounds in an effort to fight infection. But if he does show up, we’re all having a drink in his honor.”

  “I’ll just have a sip of yours.”

  “And that’s how I want you to think.”

  “We would have been in Singapore at this point, you know?”

  “I’ve been thinking of that. Wei Jei also should have learned the news that we crashed by now. I hate to say this, but I have to wonder if he’s relieved about that given his production issues. He now has no reason to beef up production of the chips we need, which might stall production of our phone, and that’s something that can’t happen for obvious reasons. With every piece of negative news that surrounds Wenn, our stock will only continue to fall. Worse is that with us missing—and with me out as CEO for the time being—I have to wonder what the board will do. Will Rowe be put in as interim CEO? If he thinks we’re dead, he very well might make his move. If he’s smart, he’ll take a wait-and-see attitude because you threatened to expose him to his wife. Either way, with me out of the equation—and depending on how the press runs with the news that we’ve crashed—the future of Wenn looks bleak right now.”

  “We’re not going to lose Wenn.”

  “Let’s not talk about that right now. Maybe we can discuss it tomorrow, when my head is on straight. But right now, I just want to be grateful for what really matters—that you’re at my side, and that the majority of us survived. Wenn is just a thing, Jennifer. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter, does it? This is what matters. That we’re together is what matters. That we’re in love is what matters. That’s how I’m choosing to look at this.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder, put my hand onto his thigh, and gave it a squeeze. Alex was wearing the white, button-front shirt and the dark brown suit pants he’d dressed in this morning—but gone were the jacket and tie. His clothes were dry—as were mine at this point. Despite all that had happened, and all that was about to challenge us as we fought to make it on this island, I knew that I was beyond lucky to be alive and to be here with my friends and with my husband.

  Especially my husband. When he leaned over and kissed me on the neck and then nuzzled his unshaven face against my ear to whisper to me that he loved me and that we would get through this, I looked out at the sun setting over the ocean and thought about how oddly beautiful it was. To be faced with such beauty after one of the cruelest days of my life was a dichotomy I couldn’t fathom. But there it was—the sun slipping magnificently into an ocean that seemed ablaze with flames.

  We all had each other. Now we just needed to stay alive.

  LATER, WHEN IT WAS time to eat, all of us chose to sit outside, where Tank had built us a fire pit on the beach. After the storm, finding something suitable to burn had been a challenge, but Tank, with Alexa’s help, had found enough kindling to get a roaring fire going that all of us gathered around.

  The hut was now prepped for us to sleep in it. We each had a blanket. There were no pillows, but through quick thinking, Cutter had grabbed a large tarp that now covered the entire hut’s floor. It was so tight inside that we’d practically be sleeping on top of each other, but Tank had said that tomorrow or the next day—depending on how long it took to find a fresh source of drinking water—that he would expand the hut to make it more comfortable for all of us. For now, this would have to do—and I wasn’t complaining. It was amazing what they had accomplished in such a short period of time. We were lucky to have a place to sleep tonight.

  And we were lucky to have each other.

  There were food items from the plane that would last tonight, and perhaps tomorrow morning. But by tomorrow afternoon, all of the food we had now would spoil. For something to eat, we took the sandwiches first—roast beef, chicken with tomato, basil, and mozzarella, and a few I knew were ordered especially for Blackwell—a roll stuffed with spinach, tomato, avocado, and other vegetables, but no meat. It was, in a sense, her roughage sandwich.

  We used only four of the remaining eleven bottles of water, so there would be five left for the next day. We ate in silence as the fire sparked and caused our bodies to glow in the twilight. We shared the water—a bottle for Alex and me, one for Tank and Lisa, another for Daniella and Alexa, and Blackwell had her own, which I noticed she only sipped, likely wanting to save as much as she could for morning.

  “Water never tasted so good,” she said, holding her bottle in front of her. “And neither has food. Thank God for Cutter.”

  Tank lifted his own bottle, and the rest of us followed suit. “We will get through this,” he said. “Enjoy the sandwiches. If you’re hungry, I suggest eating whatever else Cutter was able to get off that plane for us, because it’s only going to spoil. So—eat. I plan to. Otherwise, until they come for us, there is plenty of fruit on this island. There also will be greens. And I can promise you that on a tropical island such as this, we will find fresh drinking water. Also, so we can wash ourselves, there might be some sort of waterfall nearby. Or a lake. You never know what we’ll
find here. Alexa, maybe you’d like to help me find those items.”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “I’m eager to explore the island and help.”

  “I’ll be glad for the company. When we find something suitable, we’ll be able to rinse off and feel clean again. If we need to, we can wash our clothes in the waterfall. For privacy reasons, we’ll need to take turns doing that, but I suspect that Alex and Jennifer, as well as Lisa and I, won’t have any problem washing off together. The rest of you can do so alone. Given the heat, our clothes should dry fast, even if we have to put them on damp. The sun here is strong and we should be dry within an hour. It won’t be pleasant, but we can do it.”

  “Aren’t you cold?” Alex asked. “You’ve been without a shirt all day because of me.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll wash the shirt tomorrow. Plus, Lisa and I will be sleeping together under the same blankets, so it’s a non-issue. I’ve endured worse than this.”

  “In training?” I asked.

  “Some of it was in training, but most of it wasn’t. And that’s a good thing. Training simulates the real world, but it isn’t the real world. I’ve been on islands like this before—and places worse than this. I know what I need to do to keep warm—even if I’m naked. That’s why the fire is so close to the hut.” He elbowed Lisa. “And why I have her.”

  “How is my perfect little size zero going to keep you warm, Tank?” Blackwell said in an effort to lighten the moment. “Unlike Jennifer, she doesn’t have any meat on her bones—not that I’m objecting.”

  “What you don’t know about my fiancée is that she’s a little firebox, Barbara.”

  “Really? Well. Who knew?”

  “It’s true,” Lisa said. “I run hot. Tank’s just lucky that I’m not one of my zombies. If I were, he’d be chilled to the core—and screwed in other ways.”

  “I know exactly how hot you run,” he said.

  “Well, then,” Blackwell said. “How revealing. How unusually specific. But who in the hell is going to keep me warm?”