Chapter Fifteen

We rinsed the bandage in the fresh water and set it out to dry before wrapping the wound again.

“How is it looking?” Musir asked. He craned his neck and tried unsuccessfully to see over his shoulder.

I arranged the shirt bandage to dry by laying it out over the top of our little hut.

How honest should I be with him? I knew he deserved the truth as I pondered the question. It would be an optimistic sort of truth, but I couldn’t lie.

“Thankfully the bleeding’s stopped,” I said. I moved to stand next to him by the fire and ran one hand down the length of his good arm. I was shocked as always at the firm muscles underneath.

“So, I will not bleed to death. This is a good thing. I can see there’s something else. I can see it in your eyes and can feel there is something else wrong with my shoulder.”

“I’m getting to that. The wound…um…it doesn’t look great.”

“It doesn’t feel great.” He let out a nervous chuckle.

“There’s a lot of puss in it.”

The wound looked horrific. It was worse now with what appeared to be an infection kicking in.

I cleaned it as best as I could. Musir held his tongue during the pain to allow me the concentration to do what was required.

We sat down by the fire to rest, me emotionally and he physically. We both knew the question lingering in the air.

What will we do?

“I love this little hut,” I said out of the blue after we sat in a smothering silence for a good twenty minutes. I thought how I would hate to leave it when we just built it. Musir endured so much building it.

“So do I. The bed you made is so soft. If only we might have slept on it in better circumstances.”

My stomach flipped and my heart skipped a beat, even in these dire circumstances. What might that bed have held for us, not last night or tonight or tomorrow, but some day far in the future if the circumstances were different yesterday? Musir was the first person I kissed. He was the first I ever fell in love with. When I slept in his arms, it was for the first time too. Coyness aside, I wondered what other firsts we might have had someday.

All those dreams could only be relegated to a passing thought now. Our hopes must be firmly rooted in survival again, no longer in joy or in thriving. This was not the time for romantic fantasies. It was the time for clear thinking and decisions.

It was the time for action.

The words needed saying. Neither of us wanted to be the one to say them, so I did.

“As difficult as it will be to leave our little slice of paradise, I think we have to.”

He sat staring at the fire and did not speak. I continued.

“If you feel you are up to it, we must make for the beach urgently. We must light more fires and send more smoke signals. We have to be rescued if you’re going to survive.”

“Of course you are right,” he said. “We do not know how far the beach is from here, but we can continue to follow the river as we originally planned.”

“I worry that might take too long.”

“We would be close to food and water. We will be able to travel light.”

He thought this through. We had similar inner dialogues and only let them surface when the thinking through was complete.

“I suppose that’s true.”

“If we follow the river, you will also be able to find your way back here easily…if my condition worsens.”

I stood up and made my way to the now-dry shirt. “Get up. Let me pack your wound again. I’ll collect our things. I’ll pull the tarp off from the inside of the hut and we’ll keep the rest standing in case we come back.”

We both knew we’d never return. If either of us were coming back, it would be me—alone.

“We could stay one more night,” he said. I wrapped the arms of the shirt around his bare torso.

“Time is of the essence.”

“A rest might be good. The pain is not as sharp. I may sleep better.”

He held out his good arm. I moved in close to him. He wrapped an arm around me and leaned his chin on my head. He kissed my hair. I breathed in the hot scent of his skin, mossy like fresh-chopped wood with a hint of tropical fruits, and pressed my cheek to his firm chest. I circled my arm around his waist and held steady for a moment. Then I dropped it to rest on his hip where the waistband of his pants hit the caramel skin.

I was about to agree, but not because I wanted to sleep. My intentions were not altogether honorable. Who knew how long I’d have with Musir? All those firsts we could have had in the coming years might need to fit into one last night together.

He cut in to contradict himself before I could agree and drag him into the hut.

“Actually, you’re right. Let’s just move. I’m sorry. I let my fear and desires get in the way of the right decision. The chance to…um…rest…cannot come at the expense of surviving and spending the rest of time together.”

The rest of time?

“So, you want to go?” I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice. He was right after all.

“We must get to the beach, today if we can. We cannot wait. I feel my body wrestling with the infection. We need to get to the beach and send out signals. Then we can rest and wait.”

We were on the move shortly thereafter.

Musir’s breath was short. He needed frequent breaks. I had to recognize this since his pride disallowed him from admitting it. We fell quiet as we walked. He couldn’t speak much. I was increasingly drawn into my own thoughts.

How much longer to the beach? What would the beach offer us, except the same chance of rescue we had for several weeks before when rescue never came? What would a different side of the island offer that our previous spot didn’t?

I began hearing voices not my own in the midst of my inner dialogue. I couldn’t make out the words at first and wondered if I were beginning to go mad. Musir would die of infection. I’d run the island as a mad woman until I wandered off and drowned in the sea, or was eaten by a wild beast.

“This way, my love,” a voice prompted.

Angels?

I turned and looked at Musir. He was standing in place with balance wavering, staring down into the river as though in a trance.

“You’re doing so well. Keep going.”

Was he hearing the same disembodied voice as me?

“A bit more and we’ll turn back for the night.”

Musir’s head shot up. We stared at each other. He heard it! We weren’t going mad. An angel wouldn’t be turning back for the night.

Then there was the sound of light, carefree female laughter.

“Enough, enough,” she said. “Can we please go back to the boat and admit this was not the romantic Saturday adventure you sold me on? Tomorrow is ladies’ choice, and, baby, we’re spending Sunday by the hotel pool.”

Musir and I took off in the direction of the voice. We became a chorus of shouts for help, hoping to get the attention of whoever was beyond our line of sight.

The voice fell silent. All noise in the jungle was drowned out by our sound.

I sprinted as though I were being chased by Death himself. In a way we were. Musir stopped shouting, surely saving his breath for the run. I shouted with enough gusto for the both of us.

“Help! Help us! We’re out here! Don’t leave! Where are you?”

My heart spilled over with hope when voices called back, urgency mixed with fear. There was a man’s voice first.

“Who’s there? Where are you?”

“Where are you? We’re by over by the river,” the woman said in a voice no longer light and airy.

They were close. We were going the right way because the voices were only getting clearer.

“Keep talking, please,” I said. Tears streamed down my cheeks and were carried off by the wind as I ran. Underbrush stubbed my toes. Lower branches whipped at the bare arm and cheek on the side that wasn’t hugging the river’s edge. I couldn’t register the pain. I couldn’t contain my hope.

“We’re here, honey, by the river. We won’t move. Follow our voices.”

“Come down the river. We’re here. Who are you?”

I couldn’t speak anymore. I suddenly broke through some jungle foliage and ran smack into another human being, knocking the both of us down.

“My God,” he muttered. He was a man in his late twenties with clean clothes, shiny new hiking gear, and an aluminum expandable walking stick. He lifted himself up without trouble and rubbed the edge of his chin where my head hit him. The woman helped me to my feet.

“Oh, honey, honey,” she whispered. She examined my face. “What happened to you, poor thing?”

“Long story,” I said, catching my breath. I rubbed my forehead where I hit the man. “There’s no time now. My friend Musir needs medical attention.”

I pointed behind me. They looked in that direction but then stared at each other uncertainly.

“You have a boat? Please…how far to…to somewhere with a hospital, or a doctor, or first aid facilities. He…”

I turned. My stomach churned. “No!”

“There’s no one there,” the man said. His tone indicated he didn’t want to offend me.

“Oh no…”

The woman took my hand. I pulled it away.

“I’m not imagining him,” I said, “so don’t even suggest that. Come on, we need to find him.”

“I know, honey,” she said, picking up her hiking pack. “I heard him calling too at first. Let’s go.”

She grabbed the man’s hand. They followed me up the river. They didn’t ask questions while we ran, but I could hear them speaking to each other in hushed voices.

* * * *

We found Musir collapsed by the river. He was alive but unconscious. One hand was dragging in the river. I dropped to my knees next to him and pulled his head onto my lap.

Had the run pulled infected blood throughout his system?

Would he ever open his moon eyes again?

The man and woman opened their packs and pulled out two expensive first-aid kits. They were angels even though just mortals. The woman, who was so soft spoken before, barked commands at the man.

“Turn him over. Hand me that antiseptic, the gauze, and the tape.”

He did as she said. I moved out of the way, letting her work and hoping she knew what she was doing. Anything was better than what I could do for him at this point.

The woman relaxed into her work. The man continued to aid her but spoke with me as well. He sensed I was in no mood to talk about what happened. I appreciated his restraint because I knew he must be wildly curious. He told me about them in short sentences between helping, to distract me and calm his own nerves.

“We’re on our honeymoon. We’re staying at the resort on that island about an hour or so speedboat ride from here. You know the one? No? You can’t see it from here. I think it’s about an hour, maybe a little more. We rented the speedboat for the day.

“This amazing woman here is my wife of seven days. We’re practically an old married couple. This day has been something of a failed attempt at a romantic deserted-island fantasy. It’s not quite as romantic as I pictured it.”

“I’m sure glad you attempted it,” I said.

“Me too. This isn’t a popular spot. There are islands closer to the resort, more on the side of the mainland, and ones with better snorkeling. Most visitors take day trips there. It’s good for all of us we tried something different.” He nodded over to Musir. I could tell he meant it. There wasn’t a hint of disappointment at a spoiled vacation.

“Is she a nurse?”

“She’s doing some good stuff but she’s not a nurse. She’s a musician, a really talented one. I saw her at a concert I took some clients to. She had a solo. Her playing and her gracefulness struck a chord, as they say.”

“A musician? Does…does she know what she’s doing with Musir?” I whispered. I didn’t want to distract her. I had a fleeting hope she was a medical professional and would be able to heal Musir right here and now.

“She was an RA when she was in college, the main person on the dorm floor. She had plenty of first-aid training.”

The woman chimed in.

“I’ve cleaned this wound out as much as possible to stop the infection from spreading. I packed the wound properly. We must get to the resort immediately.”

We fashioned a quick stretcher from their walking sticks. We threaded them through the sleeves of my jacket, the man’s shirt, and the woman’s jacket. They carried Musir. I rushed beside him, holding his hand.

* * * *

I was unsteady on the boat and became seasick. I was confused after being away from modern things for so long. The roar of the engine—something so familiar from boating trips during childhood—was loud, aggressive, and unnatural.

When the man radioed for an emergency crew from the resort’s medical center to meet us at the dock, the discarnate voice that responded was another shock to my system.

“What is the medical emergency, so they can be prepared?”

The man said they found some castaways. One had an injury that was badly infected.

“Castaways? More?”

My breath slowed. More?

“Yeah, can you believe it?”

“Are yours from the same cruise ship as the one they found last week? He said he was on an island for a while.”

“The guy they picked up in the boat?” the man asked and turned to me. “Were you two on a cruise ship before and maybe a lifeboat?”

I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak. They found one other man. It had to be Blue and Kent’s lifeboat. Which man survived?

“What’s his name?” I asked.

He returned to the radio.

“Hey, did the guy ever give his name? The night we arrived at the resort was the same day they found him. The news said he was sorta out of it and wasn’t making a lot of sense. The wife and I haven’t been watching the news much since we first got in though. Did he give a name or is he still struggling with communicating?”

“Yeah, he did. He’s just left the hospital today and been sent home.”

“That’s good news.”

“His name?” I was growing less patient with not knowing.

The radio on the boat crackled. The man on the other end continued.

“He’s doing much better. He said his name’s McCree.”

* * * *

I held Musir’s hand. We were a link to each other. He opened his eyes as we pulled up at the dock, right before the medical crew transferred him to a real stretcher and a real ambulance.

He gazed at me with his dark, moon eyes. Musir squeezed my hand and smiled.