Adrift

by K. M. Galvin

We can’t catch a fucking break!

  I grab some of the firewood we stacked. Firewood is such a generous word for the dead logs, thin branches, moss, and brush we collected. It’s soaking wet in my hands, but I have to try. For him, I have to try.

  I throw it on the pile, whimpering when it doesn’t light. Stepping away, all I can do is watch as it begins to go out. By the time it’s just black smoke rising up, the rain has stopped. Just a brief deluge, but it ruined everything. Isn’t that just symbolic of this entire shit experience?

  I wipe my skin, wincing as my hands get covered in soot and who knows what else. I’ll need to rinse off. Glancing over at East, I worry my lip when I see he hasn’t moved. Knees planted in the sand, hands fisted at his sides, head bowed. He is the picture of defeat. My eternally optimistic partner has begun to give up.

  How can all this heartache happen in the span of a week? It’s taken us days to complete that fire and a thirty-minute shower has washed out our last bit of hope.

  Not knowing what to say, I leave him to grieve and walk into the ocean until it’s almost up to my mid-thigh. I take my time washing off, mulling over what to say to him when I see the smoke has gone from a gray to an inky black.

  Turning back, I see the signal fire is still built tall, just covered in wet wood and brush, but that’ll surely dry in this weather. Once clean, I head back to our camp, where I shrug my clothes on and slip into my shoes.

  I narrow my eyes at the horizon, seeing that the night sky has lightened slightly to a deep blue. Flashes of lightning illuminate the sky and water below as the storm heads out to sea. The moon is offering enough light to get by and it’ll be dawn soon. I take a deep breath, glance back at East, and head off into the woods.

  I’m not letting him give up.

  I stay close to the edge of the tree line, unwilling to drift too far into the jungle where the light is nonexistent. We built this the first time with dead trees, tree limbs and anything else that would burn. We’ll build it again.

  I lean down and grab any branches my feet run into. I wouldn’t be able to get much on my own, but I could give us a head start.

  The chirping of insects and the croak of frogs keeps me company. I remember when I first started coming out here they would fall silent, alerted by my loud as hell stomping. Now they don’t care and I walk softer through here, my feet more assured than any of the hundreds of hikes I’d been on back home.

  Dad would be so proud at the little outdoorswoman I’ve become.

  He always supported me, even when I thumbed my nose at our entire way of life and traded in trees and mountains for skyscrapers and subways. It’s only now that I realize how much that meant to me. I wonder what he would have thought of my choices after he died. How I upended my life.

  All I want is to be back on our porch, sitting in the rocking chairs he handcrafted and listening to him tell me of the latest city people who decided to get rustic for a weekend.

  Biting my lip as the emotion rushes into my throat, I lift the armful I have now and head back to the beach.

  East’s in the exact same spot I left him in. Almost an hour has gone by. Shaking my head, I march towards the dying fire and throw my bundle on top, startling the shit out of East.

  “Get up,” I say sternly and steel myself against the anguish on his face. “Get up, Easton.”

  The shadow from the soot and moonlight creates a surreal effect on his face, making him look like a warrior who lost the fight. He looks at me blankly and turns back to the dead fire.

  “Easton!” I yell, marching over and grabbing his arm. “Get. Up. Now.”

  East rips his arm out of my grasp, snarling at me before assuming the same position. I glance up at the sky and beg someone to help me because I’m about to make this man hate me.

  “Do you even want to see Henry anymore?” I ask in a cutting voice, heart fluttering when I see his body respond. “God, I hope if my dad was out here he’d fight a lot harder to get back to me.”

  “Be quiet, Taylor,” he says in a deceptively soft voice.

  “I just can’t believe what a bullshitter you are. All this talk about not giving up. What a coward you turned out to be.”

  Eaton slowly gets up and turns to me, incredulous.

  “You heard me.” I take a tiny step back, a little worried that I’m antagonizing a man a foot taller than me and all muscle. “You’re a coward. A liar.”

  East’s eyebrows slam down over his eyes, a fierce scowl on face. “Shut the hell up, Taylor.”

  “No!” I scream, “You are not allowed to give up!” Heart racing, I shove him. “What do you think your son would say if he saw you now? What about your brother, who you say is looking tirelessly for you? Do you think they’ll give up?” I choke on a sob. “What about me, Easton? Are you giving up on me too?”

  East’s face breaks and he snakes an arm out, grabbing my hand, and tugs me into his arms. “Stop. Stop, Taylor.”

  “I need you, East. I need you sane and willing to try until you physically can’t anymore. We’ll get more wood; we’ll do it every fucking time it rains. You just can’t give up, ok?” I whisper against his chest, cuddling closer when he tightens his hold on me.

  He nods numbly and I turn, tugging him back into the woods with me. We grab wood for hours; the sun has long come up and we’re both beat. Which would explain the less than generous attitude we’re currently taking with one another. We scavenged for smaller logs, things we can take on our own, but soon it was clear that we would need to work together on the larger, longer logs.

  Something that is proving to be the biggest test to our patience yet.

  “You need to lift when I lift, otherwise you get all the weight on your end,” East bites out, glaring at me from the other end of the six-foot piece of wood we found.

  “I. Am,” I grit out, glaring back at him.

  “No, you’re not, otherwise we’d be moving along now,” he shoots back.

  I close my eyes, begging for patience, and remind myself it’s already been a long day and the sun had only been up a short time. “Easton, I’m picking up my side the same time as you. You just need to go slower; I don’t have as much muscle as you.”

  Not to mention my inner arms are scraped up to hell. Another thing we would normally not allow because the threat of infection is real out here, but what else were we to do? I’ll just scrub them with saltwater later.

  “Just try it again—lift with your knees,” he orders, clearly not believing me, and bends down. I mirror his movement and lift as he counts us down. “Ok, now lift it to your shoulder.”

  I hold my breath and use every ounce of strength I have as I lift to rest the end on my shoulder. The heaviness eases up in this position, but there’s no way I can do this multiple times. Maybe more tomorrow, but I’m already beat.

  It infuriates me to be so weak. If I was back in shape and eating like normal, this would be easy.

  I begin walking back, taking the lead, and roll my eyes as East mutters behind me about taking a better route back to the beach. “You are a pain in the ass today, Easton.”

  “You’re not so great either,” he snorts behind me.

  “This is the last trip I’m making today. I’m exhausted and we still have a day of chores ahead of us.”

  “Well, I’m still going to grab more wood. Don’t want anyone saying I’m giving up.”

  I groan dramatically. “Come on, East. I only said that to get you back in action. Don’t be such a bitch.”

  “I don’t think I’m the one being a bitch,” he says under his breath.

  “Oh my God! I can’t with you right now. I’m hot, tired, my skin is irritated from bark rubbing against it for hours. I still need to make a hike that is miles long just to get water. Could you please just shut up?!”

  He’s quiet then. “I can get water today. You can get the food.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but my arms are jelly. There will be no hauling jackfruit in my future.” Rubbing my arm
s and legs to dislodge any little bits of wood that have clung to my sweaty skin, I turn to head back the hundred yards or so up the beach to camp.

  “Wait,” East says hurriedly. I turn towards him, startled to see him right behind me. I didn’t even hear him move; shit, how tired am I?

  “What, East? I’m too tired to go another—“

  “Just listen.” He comes close enough to cradle my face in his hands. Dipping down so we’re eye level, raw sincerity burns in his gaze. “Thank you. Thank you for kicking my ass and getting me back up. You are always there when I need you. So…thank you. Again.”

  Wrapping my hands around his wrists, I give his hands a squeeze and gently pull them from my face. “It’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”

  In fact, he already has. I’m supposed to be the pessimist and he’s the eternal optimist. So seeing him like that…it fucked with me.

  “I’m going to get water and rinse off. I’ll be back later.” I turn to leave, but jolt when East tugs on my hand he hasn’t released and I find myself yanked into a sweaty embrace.

  East’s arms are tight around me and I wince a little, tapping his back to loosen his grip, but when he doesn’t move I give in and wrap my arms just as tightly around his middle.

  When was the last time I received a hug just for comfort’s sake?

  He gathers the hair at my nape and nestles into the dip between my shoulder and neck. “I lo—uh, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  I close my eyes because for a moment it sounded like he was about to say something else. It’s probably best he doesn’t love me. Out here, everything is so far removed from the responsibility of real life. Much better to not have his love only to lose it when we return home.

  Right?

  Right.

  SINCE THE DAY THE RAIN tested every ounce of our strength, there’s been a change between us. It’s in every weighted stare, all the lingering touches, the gentle kisses and the frantic ones. The day our hope became redefined from getting ourselves rescued to making sure the other gets off this fucking island.

  It makes it easier to be here. When someone else depends on you, you can’t give up. And knowing he’s doing things for me makes me try harder. We motivate each other, keeping busy during the day so that we don’t just survive—we thrive.

  At night we are selfish, taking pleasure from each other. I’m greedy with East. I want everything he can give me and he never fails to give it. Neither of us has said anything about what we are to each other. I don’t know if we can even put a name to what we are.

  We also don’t talk about what happens if…I mean when…we get off this goddamn island.

  I look over at him, watching as he throws more brush on the large fire to create more smoke. It’s gotten so big now, much larger than the one before. The smoke seems to fill the sky above us. There’s no way anyone is flying over us without noticing. Assuming someone does.

  I wiggle my toes in the sand before standing up and grabbing our pot. “East!”

  He turns towards me, shading his eyes, and I hold up the pot, waving behind me towards our trail to the stream. It’s been almost a week since I’ve last done this. East’s taken over for me.

  Slipping my shoes on, I walk down the beach.

  The burn in my muscles distracts me from my thoughts and I take a second to look at my legs. They look like brown matchsticks. My hair, I can tell, has gone white blonde under the sun, but it’s brittle and my scalp feels burned from sun exposure. I feel sucked dry of moisture, my skin stretching thinly over my skinny, starved body.

  At least East still finds me attractive, no matter how ugly I feel.

  It’s not like he has other options or can judge. We’re both rocking the castaway look. All we’re missing is a Wilson, though I guess we’re each other’s.

  It takes me almost an hour to reach the stream. The sound relaxes me instantly and I dip my toes in the water, smiling at how cool it feels. Dipping the pot, I fill it to the brim and set it up in the grass before removing my clothes. I sit down on a rock and grab some sand to scrub the dirt, sweat, and Lord knows what else off my threadbare shorts. My top is a ripped up, bloodstained mess. I do my best, but there’s no getting perfectly clean here. Regardless, I do my best to take care of the only things I own from my life.

  Once they are somewhat clean, I lay them out on a large flat rock to dry and decide to cool off. Lying in the shallows, I shade my eyes and stare up at the bright blue sky. There isn’t a cloud to be seen for miles, well, except the cloud of smoke as it reaches all the way out here.

  Closing my eyes, I drift into a semi-consciousness listening to the sounds of nature around me. They remind me of home. Not Seattle, but home home. Dad’s cabin, where I grew up. Where I spent every summer going on guided hikes with him. I press my lips into a firm line, stalling the tears that want to fall. I’m constantly crying, it seems; no wonder I feel so dehydrated.

  The sun caresses my skin and I bask in this new home of mine, one that redefines the idea of Paradise Lost. It’s truly like we’re Adam and Eve, though there’s no Satan here, unless you count the hell that is being alone with your thoughts and memories.

  I’ve learned more about myself in the last few weeks then ever before. I wanted a change and I got one. Not what I had in mind, but—

  I jerk upright and close my eyes, focusing on….

  There!

  Jumping to my feet, I throw my clothes on and grab our pot before heading back onto the trail. My eyes are on the sky because I know…I know I heard a helicopter. It’s not likely I’ll ever forget what one sounds like, not after it was so close to ending our hell here.

  Suddenly I see the helicopter again and I sink to my knees, trying desperately to catch my breath as panic and hope war within me. It has to see the smoke, please, God, it has to. This is not some fucked-up déjà vu, I think, sinking to my knees. We cannot lose twice, we won’t survive it. But we won’t have to worry about that, I think as hysterical laughter erupts from me. I watch in exultant joy as the helicopter makes a sharp right turn towards our camp and I know…I know it’s over.

  I watch it sink lower before disappearing from my sight.

  That’s it. It’s over. They found us.

  Digging my hands into the earth, I slam my fists against the surface and let out a scream of joy. Throwing the pot to the ground, I slip on my shoes and run all the way back. It’s hard on my body, but that doesn’t matter anymore.

  Oh my God, I’m going to have a cheeseburger! And fries! And a shower, toothpaste—oh my God, a brush!

  “Easton!” I scream happily, hoping he can hear me, hoping he knows I know we’re saved and it’s because of that big, dumbass fire that took days to build. Days of building ourselves back up. It fucking worked!

  Oh my God…

  It’s over.

  This walk along the beach seems harder than the others; the stitch in my side causes my breath to wheeze, but I don’t stop. I can see the helicopter in the distance; it landed right on our beach.

  I study the helicopter as I get closer and notice there isn’t any discernable sign as to who we should call hero. No signs of the Coast Guard or whatever the equivalent is to whatever country we’re near.

  God, where even are we?!

  The man who hops out makes a mad dash for East, tackling him to the ground, and even from a couple hundred feet away I can hear the hysterical laughter that borders disbelief.

  East and our savior roll around and I wonder if this is his brother? The one East was so convinced would never give up. Jesus, he was right. About everything.

  How much money do they have that he’s able to fly around in a helicopter looking for us for God knows how long? Clearly the search was called off, otherwise someone else would be here, right? Not just East’s brother?

  Whoever he is, he spots me first. Gaining his feet, he takes off his helmet and I’m nearly bowled over when I see an exact replica of East staring at me, a healthy, strong version;
the East from the beginning, not the skinny, starved one now. I blink in confusion and look over to my East, who is already running at me.

  I squeal as he tackles me, turning so I land on him, and I find that smile I was looking for earlier comes much easier with his exuberance.

  “We’re saved!” he yells and hugs me to him. I lean up and look down at him as tears fall carelessly from his eyes.

  Smiling, I wipe his eyes and press a soft kiss to his forehead. “You didn’t tell me you were a twin.”

  East’s eyebrows shoot up and he smiles wickedly. “Why, thinking of trading up?”

  My heart stutters, but I hide behind a smirk and get off East. Standing, I turn towards his brother and hold my hand out. “Thank you so much!”

  He laughs and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so happy I found you two!”

  “I can’t believe you did. I had almost given up,” I tell him shakily, patting his arm to let me go. “Did the others—?”

  “Carter, let her go,” East says quietly from behind me and his twin lets me go instantly.

  I cock my head slightly. “East? Carter? Henry? Could you sound more fancy?”

  Carter ducks his head as his cheeks color. “Mother believes in hereditary names. We’re named after her brother and father.”

  “Oh God, you call your mom ‘mother’?” I wince; they really were from a different universe. “So where does the name Henry come from?” I muse and raise an eyebrow.

  “That would be from a distant relative who may or may not have started the car industry. I have always been fascinated by his ingenuity.” East smiles, tugging on a piece of my hair.

  “You’re freaking related to Henry freaking Ford?!” I screech, batting his hand away.

  They both nod in unison. Carter stands a little taller, obviously proud of his family’s pedigree.

  “So this helicopter…?” I point behind me.

  “Is one of ours.” Carter grins.

  “One of…” I trail off faintly. I knew they were rich, but this wealthy? Jesus. I swallow with difficulty and square my shoulders. “You never answered me.”