4. PAST NOON: THE ESCAPE
Ava
Dax has set a bowl of berries and a cup of water beside me, but he’s not here. I drink some water and pop some berries in my mouth before the thought catches up to me. Dax isn’t here.
Crawling to the entrance of the cave, I hold up my hand, shielding my eyes from the blinding sun to have a look around. I can see his head bobbing around in the distance as he jumps from one rock to another near the water.
This is my chance.
The beach is not far below, but the large boulders separating me from the sand is a problem—a virtual obstacle course I’ll have to maneuver through at a snail’s pace before I can reach the safety and camouflage of the tropical forest.
I ease down the first rock and focus on the next, ignoring the little specks of silver dust obscuring my vision. If seeing stars is the worst thing to happen during my escape, it will be a miracle. One by one, I leave the boulders behind and near the white sand. The last drop is the biggest. A normal person would jump the last few feet but with my vision being off, I don’t trust my balance, so I roll onto my stomach and dangle my legs over the edge, searching for a foothold to help me climb down. My cheek rests against the warm rock before I lift my head to look behind me and see movement in the distance.
Dax is coming back.
I pull myself up and crawl behind a nearby boulder to watch. He goes to the opposite side closest to the water and hurries up to the cave. I wait for him to disappear inside the entrance before standing to survey the situation. There’s no time to find a better spot. I swing my legs over the edge again and hug the large boulder while my feet scramble to find traction with no success.
Dax rushes out of the cave and pauses to search the area below him, and I panic. I let go and fall awkwardly on my back with a soft thud in the sand. The fall wasn’t graceful, and I know he’s seen me because he’s rushing down the rocky slope. I can’t let him catch me or he’ll drag me back to the cave.
I run up the beach, but he reached the sand faster than I thought possible and is coming after me in a full on sprint. The bump on my head pounds with searing pain and I blink repeatedly, trying to clear the double vision causing me to see two of him and everything else. I stumble and sway to keep my balance, positive I look like a drunk running slow motion in the sand. I’m weak, out of breath, and Dax is closing the distance between us, so I dart into the trees and thrash through the thick maze of blurred green with my hands out in front of me, hoping I don’t run smack into a tree.
The ground cover makes running a little easier, and I go until I can’t anymore, then stop and turn to look behind me. There’s no sign of Dax. I sigh with relief and then grip the sides of my head to stop the world from spinning, trying to catch my breath.
After my vision clears, I swivel around to keep running and freeze. Five feet in front of me, Dax stands with arms crossed. I didn’t even hear him approach. He puts a finger to his lips to signal my silence and then points into the forest, covering the entire perimeter surrounding us. Next, he points to his eyes and then to me. Now he raises his brows to ask if I understand.
Is something out there? I glance around and when I look back, he’s nodding slowly to confirm my suspicions. The word dangerous bounces around in my brain, and when I finally catch hold of it, the memory clicks into place. Dax told me not to leave the cave… because he said it was dangerous.
He must see the panic register on my face because his serious expression falls into one of amused satisfaction, making me wonder if this is his plan—to scare me back to the cave with him. He holds out his hand for me to take it. So. Not. Going. To. Happen.
Throwing him a smile that only lasts a millisecond, I spin on my heels and walk away from him. I can only assume I’m heading back to the beach and the cave because I have no sense of direction, so I veer left but get no more than a few steps before his hand clamps down on my arm to spin me around. I jerk free and take off into the trees, knowing I don’t stand a chance of outrunning him but hoping he might give up and let me go. No such luck.
He grabs me from behind, but I kick and hit his arms with my fists as I struggle to break free, feeling dizzy and on the edge of fainting from sheer exhaustion. He pulls me to the ground with some kind of wrestling move, him on his back and me on my back on top of him. His leg is wrapped around both of mine and my wrists are held by one of his hands while his other hand clamps down on my mouth. I can’t move. I can barely breathe. All I can do is marinate in my anger that I wish could radiate off me and burn his skin.
“Ava. Stop it!” He hisses the words into my ear. “I am not the enemy. There are worse things than me out here and if you don’t be quiet, very bad things will happen.”
I don’t care. If I scream, maybe Preston will hear me. I inhale in preparation, but his hand presses down harder to muffle my attempt.
“Do you have a death wish? They’ll hear you!” he says.
Maybe he’s not lying about something being out there since he’s scolding me through gritted teeth in an attempt to keep from yelling. I can’t see his face but I know he’s annoyed, and that gives me some satisfaction.
“Please,” he whispers. “I’m trying to help you. You need me.”
I need him? No. I need Preston.
We lay perfectly still for a few seconds, and then I feel him relax his grip. He rolls to the side, lifting his head and saying in a hushed voice, “I’m going to let you up. Behave, or I’ll… I’ll kiss you.” His light smirk and narrowed eyes threaten to make good on his promise if I don’t keep quiet.
My temper flares, and I want nothing more than to punch him in the mouth. I am clearly losing this battle, so I surrender and nod quickly in compliance while secretly plotting his future demise. He stands and pulls me up, then signals his plan of us returning to the cave mime style while I glare at him.
The walk back to the cave is shorter than I expect, which only adds to my irritation. I didn’t make it far at all. Storming to the deepest corner of the cave, I huddle against the wall with my arms curled around my knees and watch him bring me the water and berries.
“Water,” he says louder than necessary, the way people do when talking to someone who’s deaf or someone who doesn’t speak English. As if saying the word louder will somehow break through the language barrier.
He hands me the cup containing fresh water. “Drink.”
I’m dying of thirst and snatch the cup out of his hand, taking big gulps until the water is gone.
“Eat,” he tells me and holds up the bowl. His talking in one-syllable words like I’m a toddler is beyond annoying. I can’t take it anymore.
“I speak English, and I can hear you just fine,” I say in a sharp tone. I think he’ll get angry, but I couldn’t be more wrong. He doesn’t even act surprised. Is he smirking?
“Well now, we’re getting somewhere. I guess this really is my lucky day.” He clears his throat self-consciously, like he wishes he’d kept the last comment to himself, and takes a sudden interest in the sandy spot between his feet. “What’s your name?”
He’s sitting on the log by the fire and looks up to watch me eat. I want nothing more than to squelch his excitement, so I ignore his question.
“How dare you threaten to kiss me,” I say.
His brows rise for a split second before an amused grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t flatter yourself, princess. I was only trying to shut you up. As a general rule, kissing’s only fun when the other person kisses you back.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe you wouldn’t enjoy it.”
He refills my cup with water from a wooden pitcher and then sits back down before responding.
“Now that you mention it, I might have to agree with you, considering I haven’t kissed a girl in years.”
He offers a smile to make peace but as far as I’m concerned, we’re still at war.
“So, are you going to tell me your name?” he asks when I don’t respond.
&
nbsp; “Ava Starr,” I say without taking my eyes off the bowl.
“Ava?” He pauses. “That’s—an interesting name.”
This all-too-familiar comment in reference to my name is something I’ve heard numerous times before. Now it hits a nerve. “So is Dax,” I snap, and then continue eating.
“Ava, about what I said earlier… there are—”
“Where am I?” I interrupt.
“We’re on an island. I call it—”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I think it’s a small isle somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. But what I was trying to—”
“You’re not sure? That’s great. Well, do you know how I got here?”
He runs his fingers through his disheveled hair and then picks up a stick to stoke the fire.
“No. I found you early this morning. It was still pretty dark but I couldn’t sleep, so I walked outside the cave and saw the light flashing on your life vest. You weren’t too far from shore so I swam out to get you.” He lets out a short laugh. “That’s when I found the first surfboard too. The leash was wrapped around your ankle a bunch of times, so I untangled it and brought you to this cave, but then you stopped breathing. I was worried you were going to die on me, but then you came to and freaked out. You were hysterical for a couple of minutes before you passed out again. You don’t remember?”
I shake my head. That’s weird. How did I end up with a surfboard from the storage compartment of the plane? Did the plane crash? My mind is going in a hundred different directions.
“What else did you find?” I ask, looking at him intently. “Besides the other board.”
“Well, I found some more stuff not too far from where—”
“Like what?” I interrupt again. I’m not normally impatient, but he acts like time doesn’t matter—like he has all the time in the world. To me, time is running out.
“Like I was saying, I found another board, a life raft still in its case, a backpack, and a briefcase.”
He gets up and walks to a crevice near the front of the cave, then returns with Preston’s black briefcase and sits it beside me.
“Do you recognize this?” he asks with a proud smile, as if he’s done something important by finding it.
I nod. “Where’s the backpack?” I ask softly, trying not to look at Preston’s briefcase that’s causing a lump to form in my throat.
He points to the backpack on his left, close to where I’d been laying when I woke up.
“I used the life vest to prop up your head and used the backpack for myself. As you can see, there’s a shortage of pillows.”
He grabs the backpack and tosses it in front of me. I should laugh politely at his attempted humor, but my next question weighs heavily on my mind.
“So you didn’t find any people?” My voice cracks a little, and I hope he doesn’t notice. I stare at the bowl of berries, but now I’ve lost my appetite and set it to the side.
“No. And I walked up and down the beach.” He pauses. “I guess you weren’t alone then.”
I swallow and blink back tears.
“We need to get help. I have to find them—I have to find Preston,” I tell him.
“Who’s—?”
“Do you have a phone?”
He starts to laugh but stops, silenced by the horrified expression on my face.
“Uh, no. I don’t have—. I’m sorry. I should have clarified. This island is—very primitive. There’s no electricity or plumbing.”
Staring at him, I try to decide which of the million questions in my mind to ask next. I think he will notice my obvious distress but once again, he proves me wrong.
“So what’s up with the briefcase?” he asks. “Please tell me you’re a spy or something, or a secret agent?”
His assumption annoys me for only a second before I fall apart. I lie on my back and cover my face with my hands, not wanting him to see me cry, but it’s too late. He moves closer and touches my shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is sincere and full of remorse.
“Please, just leave me alone,” I say between sobs.
He pauses, and then I hear him take a few steps before speaking. “I’m going back down to the beach to find us some dinner. Please don’t go anywhere this time. Seriously. It’s really dangerous. I’ll be back in a while, and we can talk some more.”
The hurt in his voice makes me feel bad for being so rude. What is wrong with me? Unleashing all my pain and frustration on him is unfair. He saved my life, and now I’ll have to apologize before thanking him.
I force myself to face the reality of the situation. I’m alive. But Preston, his co-pilot Kirk, and Anna, the flight attendant, are all missing. If the plane crashed, there’s a possibility they may not have survived. But I’m not alone. I’m on an island—who knows where—with a stranger I just met. And I rudely told him to go away. He probably wishes now that I didn’t speak English.
I stop crying long enough to notice the pounding in my head. After unzipping my backpack, I’m shocked to see that everything inside appears to be dry and intact. My parents bought it for me to use on a raft trip for school last year, and the fact that it’s waterproof and stuffed with three empty water bottles from the flight must have kept it afloat.
I rummage through the items until I find the bottle of aspirin. I swallow one after taking inventory of how many are left, and then slip the bottle back into the bag.
At least I have my drawing pad if I get really bored, along with plenty of reading material to use as handy excuses for ignoring Dax. I’ve already read the entire book and magazine, but he doesn’t know that. And I can always write in my journal until I run out of pages. Speaking of, I should write in it now. Maybe I’ll mail the stupid thing to Dr. Blevins for a Christmas present when I get off this island. That would prove once and for all that my luck is more than just bad.
I dig to the bottom and feel around for the journal, but it’s not there. Where is it? I pull the items out one at a time until I’m left with the empty backpack. Ugh. Did I write in it on the plane? I must have had it out when whatever catastrophe landed me here. Great.
One less distraction.
The items get shoved back in my backpack one at a time. I start to shove the envelope with my paycheck and notice the top is torn open. The check is crammed inside with half of it hanging out like someone shoved it back in a hurry. I don’t remember opening it. Dax must have snooped through my things and opened it himself.
Wicked Luck Page 4
