“Thanks, Captain,” she sneered, “I think we’ll be fine.”
He rolled his eyes toward Willie, as if to say, ‘who are you going to trust, me or this sheila, mate?’. Willie just grinned and put his hands up in front of him, his body language denoting a clear ‘leave me outta this one’. He winked as soon as he caught Joss’ eye, though, letting her know he had no issues.
“I don’t know about you guys but I’ll eat whatever Joss brought us,” Charles endorsed, crouching down beside her. He glanced over at Grant and slowly nodded, as if to say, ‘be cool, man’.
Joss was beginning to understand that men had a subtle language all their own, conveying so much with their simple gestures. They didn’t need a lot of words to understand each other. Fascinating creatures, she thought, smiling to herself. She was sure it wouldn’t take her long to blend with the natives. She was already picking up on their kinetic dialect.
“I’m just saying, it’s best to be careful,” Grant smirked, “none of us can afford to get sick. We’re a long way from a hospital.”
“True enough,” Charles agreed, “but I think Joss knows what she’s doing, don’t you, Joss?”
She turned to him and smiled, offering a quick nod of the head.
“You bet. I’ve been studying plants a long time, haven’t killed anyone yet,” she replied, a little more sarcastic than she meant to. “Plus, I’ve been studying this manual,” she smirked, recovering quickly. She pulled the book out of her bag and held it up so Grant could see it, ‘Vanna White’ style. “I’ve got us covered,” she said, smiling brightly at him, hoping to win him over. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and snorted, dismissing her once again. It took everything she had not to throw the book at him.
Chapter 12
Five days on the island had passed, a full week since the crash, and they had not seen any sign of rescue. No passing ships, and no planes overhead. Not a sign of civilization anywhere, aside from ocean plastic and random garbage washing up on shore.
Grant, once feeling better, had waded out to where his plane was moored, so he could inspect the damage. He didn’t have good news to report. The communication system was completely fried, as well as the electrical. Given the dire nature of the situation, he was lucky he’d been able to land the plane at all, and not kill everyone on board.
“Well, the aircraft is cooked, I’m afraid.”
Grant sat down at the fire, placing his tool box in front of him. He was shirtless and soaking wet, his uniform slacks clinging to him. His dark hair, curling from the humidity, gave him a tousled, boyish appearance. If Joss didn’t know him better, she would have almost thought him charming.
“A canoe would be more useful at this point,” he continued, taking the dish of food that Daniel offered him. On it was a tiny bit of crab, some greens and mango, and some sort of protein he couldn’t identify. “What’s this then?” he asked, holding up the well cooked meat.
“Breakfast. Just eat it man, you don’t want to know,” Ryan teased. He smiled cheekily at him and popped the mystery meat into his own mouth, chewing with great flourish. Grant shrugged and took one bite, and then a second.
“It’s actually not bad. Tastes like chicken.”
“Sure,” Daniel chuckled, “let’s go with that.”
“Joss brought it back this morning. The traps she set up yesterday worked. She’s amazing!” Ryan boasted, patting her on the back.
Joss smiled nervously but didn’t respond, glancing up from her journal for just a moment to acknowledge the compliment. She’d found herself offering very little when the captain was around, and not because she was intimidated by him, but because she just didn’t like him. He always seemed to find a way to undermine her when she was around, so she found it safer to keep her mouth shut, rather than risk telling him what she really thought. The last thing any of them needed was more stress. That kind of conflict would only distract them. They needed to focus on staying alive.
“So what is it?” Grant asked, taking another bite.
Ryan smiled broadly and blurted, “Rat!”
“Yup, apparently there’s no shortage of them on our little island. As long as we can keep catching them, we won’t starve,” Willie interjected, taking a sip of water.
He handed the bottle to Charles, who took a mouthful of his own.
“Forgive my ignorance, Grant, but what about radar?” Charles asked, getting back down to business. “Wouldn’t the air traffic controller be aware of our location through radar or the flight plan? And what about the transponder?”
“Nah, mate, it’s a good question. These little commuters hop from one island to another, and we fly in class D or E airspace. That means we stay out of flight paths reserved for commercial airlines and such. We typically don’t talk to Air Traffic Control or share our flight plans. Some of the other larger island commuters do, but being independent, I don’t make a habit of it,” Grant patiently explained. “Either way, radar has very limited range.”
“And the transponder?”
“Well, that’s where we have a problem. The transponder on my aircraft is connected to the electrical system. Something caused the system to short-out. My best guess, we got hit by lightning. Some transponders have a back up battery as a fail safe, but mine didn’t.”
Joss, who had been following along, discreetly taking notes, suddenly chimed in, “What about the E.L.T.?”
Grant looked over at her, brows raised, as though he’d forgotten she was there. She held his gaze, her expression flat, passively waiting for a snarky come back. He smiled slyly at her, and shook his head.
“What’s that?” Charles asked thoughtfully, looking back and forth between Joss and Grant. He was well aware of the strain between them.
“It’s the Emergency Locator Transmitter,” Grant offered, breaking gaze first. Joss couldn’t help feeling victorious, even if it was in just a small way.
“It’s a piece of equipment that broadcasts a distinctive S.O.S. signal on designated frequencies,” he continued, “It’s usually activated by impact. In this case, that didn’t happen. The plane is still intact.”
A man of few words, Willie sat forward, clearing his throat, “is there a way to manually make it trigger, set the beacon off?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not. There are different types of E.L.T.’s, and the one on my aircraft doesn’t have a manual option.”
“So basically we’re buggered,” Daniel sighed, glancing at Joss for support.
All the men had started relying on her for comfort or reassurance. Maybe it was because she was the only woman there, or maybe she seemed the most at ease in the middle of no where, but either way, they seemed to need her. Grant caught the look and screwed up his face. It was quick, and the others probably missed it, but not Joss. She was acutely aware of his disdain toward her, and discreetly watched his body language. She wished she knew why he disliked her so much. She couldn’t think of anything she’d done, or had not done, that could have triggered it. She didn’t want to admit it, but it bothered her, even made her uneasy.
“Looks that way,” Grant offered, more directly than unkindly. “Without our coordinates, it’ll be like trying to find a teardrop in the ocean, mate.”
“But they are looking for us, Daniel. Our families are seeing to that,” Joss assured, reaching out to pat his knee. “Ryan’s a famous actor! Hell, the paparazzi are probably out looking for him! He’s headline news for sure! And Charles? Big business tycoon? Surely when you didn’t make it to your destination, your team sent out the calvary, right?”
She nodded hopefully, her expression begging him to offer them something, anything, reassuring.
“Well, I wish I could say yes, but no one really knows where I am,” Charles admitted solemnly, disappointed he couldn’t reassure her more. Instead, he smiled weakly, hoping it would suffice.
More puzzled than surprised, Ryan said, baffled, “No one? How is that possible?”
Charles cocked his head and sighed
, wishing he’d been more trusting with his team, or in the very least, his personal assistant. He felt foolish for not providing his itinerary to someone.
“It’s sounds stupid now, but I came to the South Pacific to view some real estate. I didn’t want anyone to know my whereabouts because I was afraid someone would alert my competition,” he shrugged, catching Joss’ eye. He saw the disappointment on her face, for a fraction of a second, and felt horrible.
“But surely you had the information somewhere. When you don’t show up for work soon, they’ll go digging through your desk looking for clues to your whereabouts, ransack your office or something, right?” Daniel implored, doing his best to control his own nerves. He wondered how his own family had reacted to the news of the crash. Surely they would have used their resources to try to find him, he thought, reserving the hope that in spite of his recent rebellion, they still cared enough to send out a search party.
“I’m sure they will,” Charles agreed flatly, feeling less than hopeful that they’d find anything. He had covered his tracks well. Maybe his business partners would hire a P.I. to track him, look into his phone records and such. Of course they would, he surmised, more or less convincing himself.
“Certainly they will! The captain would have registered his passenger list, right?” Joss looked his way and received a quick, affirming nod. “See? It’s likely the world already knows we’re missing. All of us. They are coming!”
“That’s all well and good,” Grant began, not even trying to be supportive, “but Fiji is an archipelago of more than 330 islands, of which over 200 are uninhabited, and more than 500 islets, amounting to a total land area of over 18,000 square kilometers, For you Yanks, that’s 7000 square miles. We are lost on one of those two hundred islands somewhere inside those eighteen thousand kilometers. Presuming they think we haven’t crashed to our deaths, it would take a mad stroke of luck for search and rescue to find us.”
All eyes were on him, each of them wrestling with their own emotions, ranging from denial and fear, to unwavering faith and hopefulness. If Joss was on the side of faith, then Captain Grant was way on the other end of the spectrum. The man was clearly not an optimist. Joss presumed that the rest of the castaways were somewhere in between, and she meant to convert them to her side. They needed to stay positive.
“That may be so, but miracles happen every day. Guys, don’t worry, we’re going to be ok. We’re actually quite fortunate that we had so many useful things in our luggage, and the island has plenty to forage. I know there is water somewhere. There has to be. We will find it any day now, I promise,” she insisted, deliberately looking each of them in the eye, including Grant. He smirked at her, as though amused by the ramblings of a silly woman, at least that was how she interpreted it. She quickly shifted her gaze back to Daniel.
“We’re not buggered, not by a long shot. Okay?”
He nodded at her, grateful for the assurance.
Her words made Willie feel better too. His own fears over the last week had been manageable, at least once they’d landed on the island. They’d been so busy working as a team, building the shelter, making camp, finding food. Through the day he had no time to sit and worry, and when dusk came he just crawled into the shelter and fell asleep as soon as he was horizontal, exhausted from all the hard work. They were falling into the rhythms of the island, and things were starting to become more routine, easier. The hard work of making a home was done, and their time was freeing up, but with that came more time to think. He tried to avoid thoughts of rescue because they did nothing but cause stress, so instead he occupied himself with fishing and crabbing. He enjoyed being out in the lagoon and was getting quite handy with the spear.
Daniel came with him most times. They worked well together and were becoming very good friends. He liked the shy Englishman and found they actually had a similar sense of humor and shared a lot of the same ideals. The dude trusted him too, and had opened up to Willie about a lot of personal things. It was nice to have a bond like that with someone, like brothers. While he was close to his teammates, Willie could never really say that any of them had gotten that close to him. It was cool.
“Don’t worry captain, we’ll be ok,” Joss offered gently, hoping to ease some of the guilt she was sure he carried. Her words pulled Willie from his thoughts and made him smile. For him, she was a breath of fresh air, a bright light in an otherwise dark situation. He had grown very fond of her too.
“I’m just being a realist, girly,” Grant scolded, “and I don’t need a cheerleader.” He finished the sentence with a tight grin, a gesture designed to mask his sharp words and dull the insult.
It didn’t help. Joss was offended. She tossed the stick she’d been using to stoke the fire and stood up, brushing sand off her bottom.
“I’m going to head out for my walk,” she snapped through clenched teeth, to no one in particular. She picked up her bag, already packed for the long hike she’d planned for that day. She threw her journal inside, then turned to walk away.
Charles, glaring at Grant, looked ready to tear a strip off of him. He hated the way Grant spoke to Joss and his instincts were to protect her. She was a kind woman, and a bloody hard worker, and had done more than any of them to ensure their survival, including the captain’s. Hell, she’d practically saved the man’s life! He turned away, wisely biting his tongue. He was frustrated as hell with him, but losing his temper wouldn’t help. He’d learned that the hard way over the years. In business it was the cooler heads that prevailed.
“Joss, hold up,” he insisted, “I’m coming with you.”
* * *
It was about ten minutes into their hike when Joss finally spoke, stopping abruptly and turning toward him.
“I appreciate you keeping me company, Charlie, but I plan to explore further inland today and it is pretty rough terrain.”
He nodded at her, refusing to admit he was a little out of breath. Normally he would correct someone calling him anything but his given name, but he kind of liked her calling him Charlie. It was charming coming from her, and truth be told, it made him feel youthful.
“It’s ok. I can manage,” he insisted, sidling up beside her. She was a knock out, he thought, casually searching her face. He’d been doing that a lot lately, discreetly looking at her when he was sure she wouldn’t notice. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. It was obvious to him that she didn’t consider herself beautiful, at least not in the traditional sense. Joss just didn’t carry herself the way most beautiful women did, at least in his experience. He’d been around his share of stunning ladies and they all had one thing in common; a certain posture that commanded the attention of any man around them, confident they were desired and would have every need met. Joss never carried herself that way. It was as though she’d never even considered that anyone but herself would meet her needs, and there was something incredibly alluring about that.
She looked him up and down, considering whether or not he could keep up, then nodded in agreement.
“Ok. Do you mind carrying the bag so I can free my hands to forage?”
“Not at all, give it to me,” he said, holding his hand out.
She gave him a quick smirk, as though considering the double entendre, handing him the bag playfully. He liked thinking she was flirting with him, smiling broadly once her back was turned.
It wasn’t easy stepping over logs and ducking under vines, but he didn’t care. He was just happy to be away from camp, and with her. They didn’t talk much at all, instead enjoying the quiet bliss around them, listening to the jungle symphony, chorused by the local fauna. Joss stopped frequently to pick edibles or explore tracks. Every now and then she opened her journal to take notes. She asked him to mark the trail as they pressed on, warning him every now and then to mind his step or avoid spiders and other creepy crawlies. There were many dangers in the jungle, but he felt safe enough with her guidance. He enjoyed walking behind her so he could discreetly admire her. H
e had never met a woman as strong and self-assured as Joss. She charmed him.
They were walking for an hour or so when she stopped, holding her hand up as if to silence him.
“Do you hear that?” she whispered, slapping a mosquito off her neck. It was faint, but he was able to pick out something that resembled a flowing tap, a constant trickling of sorts.
“Is that...”
“Water? I think it is,” she trilled, tucking her journal into the back of her pants. “Follow me, it sounds like it’s coming from over that rocky outcrop!”
She led him for another five minutes, their excitement hurrying their pace, until the jungle opened up, unveiling a short waterfall. It spilled into a clear little watering hole, surrounded by lush green plants, colorful exotic flowers, and soft green moss, approximately sixty feet wide. It was magical, exactly like one imagined a South Pacific rainforest, a picturesque postcard of Eden.
“Jesus, is this for real?” Charles asked, stunned by its beauty. Joss giggled, wide eyed and excited, nodding her head enthusiastically.
“Come on!”
She grabbed his hand and lead him to the water’s edge, kneeling down on the soft moss. The pond was so clear he could see her smiling reflection in the pool beneath her.
“It’s fresh, Charlie! It’s good water. I’m sure of it!”
He crouched down beside her and dipped his hands in the cold pool.
“Can we drink it?” he asked, cupping the water in his palm.
He splashed it on the nape of his neck, to cool his flesh.
“We probably could, but I would like to boil it, just to be safe. Either way, we have a fresh water source. This could be the difference between surviving and thriving, Charlie!”
For the first time since the crash, he could imagine Joss as who she really was, without the worry lines cruelly etching a story across her brow, spirited, fresh, and youthful. As if on cue, the sunlight lit her golden locks, making her appear like an angel, and he suddenly wanted to kiss her.
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