by Alice Reeds
The flame reflected and danced across his eyes, an almost devilish smirk taking over Miles’s face. He moved forward, the torch held up high, and stood in front of me like a shield.
I didn’t have time to consider why he would do that, though, because just then the bear came around the cockpit—death approaching us on fast, clawed paws—but when it spotted the fire, it stopped. It raised its head high, stood on its hind legs and roared loud, louder than ever before, the anger clear in the sound. All the hairs on my body stood up, my heart stopping for a moment, and my stomach dropped, a scream getting stuck in my throat. I prepared for it to advance, rip us to pieces one by one, but it didn’t.
It returned back down to all fours and stared at us, snarling. Time seemed to slow down, almost stop, until, to my surprise and indescribable relief, the bear turned and walked off.
My body deflated once the animal was out of sight, disappearing the same way it had come, and I sank to my knees. I cursed and cursed, thankful Miles’s theory had been right, but also angry with him for being reckless enough to do this, to not even ask if I was okay with it first. Part of me wanted to yell at him for it, but another knew he’d saved our asses and proven that we now had something that could keep the beast away from us.
Fire, the solution against snakes and bears. So simple…too simple?
I’d figure it out later. For now, I was just happy to be alive.
“You’re such an asshole,” I said, laughing as I did.
“You’re welcome.” He sounded confident and happy, maybe even a little proud.
“Next time you decide to risk our lives to test a theory, tell me what you’re planning to do so I can run and not be involved in any damned way.” I slowly picked myself up off of the ground and then looked at him, trying to give him what I hoped was a mean side-eye. But judging by his much too amused expression, it hadn’t worked.
“You have to admit that was exhilarating.” He’d lost his mind; it was the only explanation. Or maybe he was just so high on adrenaline and dead-body fumes that he didn’t get that we could’ve just died.
“Like a car crash,” I deadpanned.
“Come on, Fiona,” he said and put his arm over my shoulder, “look at the bright side. We’re still very much alive, and now it knows we’re not to be messed with.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe that actually worked.” I wouldn’t even have considered fire as an option, yet he had. Maybe it was also part of whatever Leon had taught him, beasts hate fire, little brother, or whatever.
“Team humans, one; bear, zero.” The happy smile on his face, radiant and filled with relief and pride, was enough to keep me from pointing out how it was more like one to three or something. Miles raised his free hand for a high five. I couldn’t help but give in, smiling. I was just impossibly happy that we were still alive.
“Let’s go back before it changes its mind and maybe brings back some buddies.”
Miles didn’t argue; instead, we crossed the clearing to retrieve our water from where I’d left it. By the time we’d found it, the torch was already dwindling down, the flame not even a fourth of its original size, so Miles used some dirt, as carefully as possible, to extinguish the torch. No need to waste it while it was light outside and we weren’t even close to the cave. I could barely believe we’d found a way to keep the beast away, to get the snakes away from our cave. It was impossible. Even though it looked like we would just drown in all the bad luck and everything working against us, we finally had some success.
Something about all of this—the pit, the camp, how easy the bear got scared and just left—it just didn’t seem right. The fire trick shouldn’t have worked, yet it had. Why hadn’t the bear still tried to come closer, and why had it stayed so far away from the pit?
Quickly I pushed the nagging voices aside again. Not now.
With smiles on our faces, we made our way back, stopping by some mango trees to collect a few so we could take them with us to the cave, since we simply didn’t have any left at the plane and it was only a question of time until we’d get hungry.
“Tomorrow, when we have our cave and everything set, we’ll go fishing,” Miles said, and I just huffed a laugh. Miles fishing? The spoiled rich kid gutting and scaling? I was looking forward to seeing that particular train wreck.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Island
We spent the rest of the day milling around our part of the plane, deciding what we wanted to take with us and how to accomplish that. First, I looked for my book, which I ended up finding underneath one of the seats. It was a gift, and it didn’t feel right to leave it. Then I pulled up my suitcase and separated my clothes into two piles—wearable and definitely not—the former unfortunately much smaller than the latter. I’d known it would be warm in Germany, it was summer after all, but we weren’t supposed to go there for fun, but to represent our school, learn stuff, which required more office-appropriate type clothes. For our first meeting with Briola, I planned on wearing black skinny jeans, a white button-down, and my favorite jacket with the studded shoulders that my father hated. I hadn’t taken along much that was thin or short enough that I wouldn’t sweat through it in a minute.
In the end, all I had to choose from were a select few shirts, though most of them were black, some pants, and a dress I wanted to take along simply because. It wasn’t an island or a summer dress, but whatever. From the bottom of my suitcase I dug out the backpack my mom had recommended I’d take along and tried to fit all my things into it as neatly as possible, along with my toiletries and underwear. I didn’t even want to imagine what a giant pain in the ass it would be if I got my period while we were on a deserted island.
“We should see if we can take the cushioning off the seats,” I suggested some time later. “Would make for more comfortable beds than sleeping on the ground.”
So we did just that. It wasn’t difficult, with the cushioning not properly attached, anyway, like the manufacturing was rushed. If the plane never flew and was never meant to, I guess it didn’t have to go through a quality check. The cushions weren’t heavy, either, just a bit bulky, making them a bit awkward to carry, but we made do by putting them into our net. It was just big enough to hold all of them. I laughed as Miles threw the net over his shoulder and pretended to be Santa with a bagful of slightly unconventional presents.
Lastly, we gathered a few sticks for torches. It was an easy enough task, though walking even just a few feet into the jungle while the sun was setting seemed dangerous. We’d never seen the beast this close to the beach, and there was a chance it wouldn’t show after we’d scared it earlier that day, but I was still wary and still listened, though mainly I could only hear the ocean and the wind.
Once we’d gotten to the plane, I took my scarf and used a piece of sharp metal to cut it into strips that we could tie around the sticks. The only thing left to do was put some alcohol on, and then lighting the torches would be easy. If Miles was right about the snakes, they stood no chance against us.
After the night had long begun, and we’d eaten a few more bananas and mangos, it was time to move.
In the end, each of us had a backpack full of our stuff, Miles had the net and torches, and I had the tote with our empty bottles. It wasn’t much but would allow us to move quicker. Without saying much, we left the plane behind and began our walk along the beach. The sky was partially covered by clouds, but the silver moonlight illuminated our path, bright enough for us to have no issue at all. The ocean had retreated a little farther, and the wind picked up a bit.
From time to time, I looked over my shoulder back at the plane, watched as it grew smaller and smaller with every step we took. I felt simultaneously happy and almost a little strange to leave it. Happy because we would finally get away from this glaring reminder of what happened—or rather, didn’t, somehow—this metal contraption that was nothing more than a prop, yet had given us shelter for the past few days and nights. Strange because leaving it felt a
lmost like admitting the fact that the likelihood of anyone coming to save us was basically none. It felt like we were giving up hope of rescue, were settling ourselves to survive far longer on the island than I’d thought we’d have to.
But, at the end of the day, we knew someone was behind all of this, that we hadn’t actually crashed, that someone orchestrated this entire thing. Looking at the camp we’d found, the fact that it was in the middle of the jungle, a place you’d think would be hidden enough to keep them safe, yet they still ended up dead. That meant the plane would have kept us safe even less. Thinking about it, staying in it longer would’ve been like sitting on a silver platter and just asking to be found and killed. If someone watched us, though I still refused to really think about it, they’d know we were in the cave, but getting there was harder, for us but also for them. The rocks out in the ocean would keep a ship away so they’d have to come by foot, the ledge leading to the cave giving us an advantage. We’d have a warning, time to figure out a way to escape or make some kind of fight plan.
Staying in the plane would’ve been easier, more comfortable, but it wouldn’t have been the right decision. The cave was.
“Can I ask you something?” I said. I knew staying silent was probably safer, would allow us to stay more alert, but it felt too deafening.
“Sure.”
“Did you ever learn to play an instrument?” It was the most random question I could think of, one that seemed at least a little less dumb than asking for his favorite color or anything like that.
“I once considered learning to play the piano but gave up on the idea about three minutes into a YouTube tutorial,” Miles said with a huff. “Seemed way too complicated and too much work to learn. I’d rather listen to someone who can already do it way better than I’d ever be able to, anyway.”
“I thought you would’ve,” I admitted.
“Why’s that?”
“Playing the piano or violin or whatever, I don’t know, just seems like a rich people thing. Usually all the rich people in movies do it.”
“I hate to disappoint, but not everything they do in the movies is factual.”
“Wait, so Darth Vader isn’t real?” I asked, faking surprise and shock. He laughed.
“Any other rich people stereotypes you’d like to have debunked or proven?”
“You have a pool, right?” I asked. “Wait, it’s Florida, so of course you do.”
“Two, actually. And a whirlpool.”
“Five cars?”
“Just four.”
“Well, damn, Miles, and here I thought you were a proper rich person, but how could you be with just four cars?”
“I know, I struggle with that fact every day.” He tried to look sad, but his attempt crumbled, and he grinned shamelessly instead.
“How about a butler?”
“You mean like Lurch?” At that I just stared at him. Somehow I hadn’t expected him to be the sort of person who would watch or even as much as know about The Addams Family. He was full of surprises. “I think we used to have one, but then my father fired him for whatever reason some years ago.”
“Got too expensive, huh?”
“You’re awful,” Miles said and laughed.
“Right back at you.”
Once we’d made it onto the ledge that led to the cave, Miles pulled out the flask and poured just enough of its contents onto one of our torches. He handed me the flask, so I screwed it shut while he took the lighter and lit the torch on fire.
I stood back and watched, held our net, while Miles moved toward the cave and did whatever it was he was doing to scare the snakes away. I didn’t even want to look too closely, didn’t want to see any of those nasty creatures slither away. I just wanted to know that they were gone, hated that I knew they’d been there in the first place.
“It’s done,” Miles finally announced after he walked back out of the cave onto the ledge and waved toward me.
“You sure?” I asked.
“One hundred percent.”
The cave was wide, reaching a dozen or more feet into the cliff. Though, as far as I could see, it got narrower toward the back. The walls were jagged and the ceiling relatively high, high enough for Miles to stand upright with a straight back. It offered much more space than the plane had, and was cooler, a welcome change from the heat of the beach.
It would do; it had to. We’d gone through so much trouble to get there it would’ve been dumb to reconsider the decision after all.
Tired, we placed our stuff farther back in the cave and then pulled the cushioning out of the net, building two too-small beds on the cave floor. It was better than sleeping on the stone, so I wasn’t about to complain.
Somehow, we’d made it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Berlin
I raced back to our room, skipping the elevator and taking the stairs at the other end of the hallway instead. Every second counted, every fraction of a moment I wasted was a risk to our safety. I needed to get Miles, and then we needed to get out of the hostel immediately, somehow without them noticing. I had no idea how to accomplish that, but I needed to work on one problem at a time.
I practically fell through the door to our room, the door itself smacking loudly against the wall. Miles raised his head off of his pillow and looked toward the door.
“Fiona?” he asked, unsure.
“We need to go,” I said between two gasps. Quickly I moved across the room, grabbed my tote off my bed, and put it over my shoulder. “And we need to do it now.”
Miles looked more than confused, maybe even a little panicked, his eyes wide. “Why?”
“They’re here.”
His eyes widened even more, a pain-slashed flinch running across his face a moment later. He must’ve moved it a little too much, the strain irritating his injury. I wanted to help him somehow, make sure his injury was cared for, but it was either that or get away from the hostel. Both were impossible.
“Can you walk?” I asked, concerned. I knew I could run, but he was the problem, the question mark. I didn’t know how good he was at suppressing and ignoring pain, or if he’d be able to move at all.
I held out my hand to him, helped him get up, but as much as he tried, he could barely take a step on his own without swaying. This was bad, the worst way for all of these events to come together, everything happening at the same time, one affecting the other. Our time was running out, and I had no idea how much of it was left, how much longer it would take before those men made it to the guy at the desk and he would tell them that, yes, he’d seen the girl with blue hair and her tall companion, told them our room number and got to us.
“Lean on me,” I told Miles, and he did. It was awkward, considering our height difference, but it would have to do. We were slow, much slower than we would’ve been if he could walk on his own, but this was all we had to work with, and it would have to do.
Avoiding the elevator, we went for the stairs. Getting down all those flights was a painfully slow process filled with hisses and gasps from Miles. I wished I could’ve spared him, but I couldn’t. If everything we went through hadn’t been enough to get those bastards off our back, I doubted any distraction I could come up with in a few seconds would’ve done the trick, either.
Leaving was our only option, though, unlike the last few times, we didn’t have a definite destination in mind. I’d have to improvise on the go.
Looking around the corner, I surveyed the lobby, tried to spot the cops. Luckily the new arrivals were still crowding the space, standing around, talking, laughing, trying to get stuff done. Their suitcases blocked most of the area, but I could see a semi-easy path for us to get out. A moment later, I spotted our friendly stalkers, still dressed the same way they had been hours earlier, the two of them trying to fight their way past a group of guys laughing at something on one of their phones. The two had their backs toward us.
It was risky—they could turn around any second, spot us, since I had no way of hi
ding my hair, or we could be too slow—but we had no other choice. We had to go, and we had to do it now.
Pulling Miles along with me I was painfully aware of just how bad we must’ve looked, him leaning on me, limping along, with small traces of blood on his face I’d missed, and me looking worried, my eyes carefully watching everything happening around us. I probably looked insane, paranoid, but maybe the people around us would simply think we were drunk or something. Or maybe they were so caught up in their own shit they wouldn’t notice us at all.
Somehow, we’d made it outside. As far as I’d seen, the cops hadn’t noticed us, were too occupied doing whatever. Maybe we’d at least have some kind of advantage, maybe no one had seen us, so when asked, they wouldn’t know. Maybe we’d manage to get away.
“You okay?” I asked Miles as we walked down the street away from the hostel.
“Splendid,” he said, his voice a little hoarse yet a bit less weak than before. He could walk a little better, more easily, as though he’d grown used to the pain enough to walk through it. I knew that feeling too well, had been there a million times before, pushed through injuries and pain like they weren’t even there, knew I had no other option—certainly not upsetting my father with the admission to what he considered weakness.
I looked over my shoulder again and again as we walked, made sure that the air was still clear, that the cops hadn’t followed. And for a while it seemed like maybe luck was on our side, like maybe we’d done it.
But that would’ve simply been too easy.
They walked out of the hostel. I watched, hoped that they wouldn’t notice us, that we were far enough away that we’d blend in, but of course we didn’t. One of them looked right at me, right into my eyes, and then pointed, said something to his friend. We’d been found out, spotted, the air turning electric and my mind kicking into overdrive.
What could I do?
How could we get away quickly?
The answer was a bus coming down the street toward us. I had no idea where it was going, all I cared about was making it to the bus stop, just a little farther, and getting in. We could make them believe that we’d take it somewhere, but really, we’d get off on the next station and then walk.
