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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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ON THE WAY BACK TO camp, all of us were on edge. 

Tank held Blackwell’s arm so she wouldn’t trip along the forest floor, and Alex held my hand tightly in his own as we swept our way through heavy vines and hanging moss, and moved past the thick trunks of trees in an effort to get to our hut as quickly as possible. 

There was much to discuss, but no time to discuss it now—we were told to get out of the grove immediately.  In an effort to get back home fast, we’d only told Tank and Blackwell a trace of what had happened between the woman and us.

We were nearly upon the clearing that opened to our hut when Tank suddenly stopped, turned to us, and put his finger to his lips.  “Listen,” he said.

We listened—and all of us heard it.  The plane again, far off behind us.  But this time the sound was different.  This time there were two distinct sounds—a plane and the chopping beats of a helicopter. 

“It’s a helicopter,” I said.  “It could be a rescue helicopter.”

“Let’s move,” Tank said.  “We’re almost there.  We need to get on the beach and out into the open.”

When we burst out of the jungle, Lisa, Daniella, and Alexa already were on the beach, their heads lifted high toward the bright blue sky.

“You’re back,” Lisa said in surprise when she saw us.  “I thought you’d be gone for most of the day, but it’s only been a little more than two hours.”

“Shit happened,” Tank said.  “We’ll debrief later.  Right now, I need all of you to spread out over the beach, and wave like hell if you see anything.”

But we saw nothing.  As minutes turned into hours, we heard the plane and the helicopter press in and press out.  Sometimes it sounded as if they were only a few miles away from us, but as the day passed and the sun started to rest against the horizon, it became clear that neither was going to sweep over the island itself. 

At that point, although none of us voiced it, we all knew that the black box on our plane had been destroyed in the crash.  If it were still working, whoever was searching for us would have been drawn to us by then.  With a sense of dread and defeat, we gave up hope and went back to our hut, where Alexa started to build a fire that we could gather around.

“Tank, you need to tend to Cutter,” she said.  “He’s gotten worse.  He’s starting to shake and sweat profusely.  I also think he’s beginning to hallucinate because when I try to talk with him, he makes no sense.”

When I heard that, all I could do is think about what that woman had said to us earlier.  “Don’t you see?  There’s no helping him now.  We knew that the day we returned him to you, which is why you got him back.  We certainly didn’t want him any longer because we knew that he was dying.”

I blinked away tears and felt a hot current of anger thread through me.  We couldn’t lose him now.  There were ways to protect him on this island, but the people who thought they owned this piece of land were preventing us from saving his life.  Why?  What was the point?  Rationing their medical supplies?  Maybe.  But we’d just offered one of them millions of dollars to get us off this island.  Certainly that money could sustain them for years to come.  But would that woman reveal our offer to the people who mattered on this island—specifically, the older man with the white beard who had brought Cutter back to us?  To me, he was the one who appeared to be in a leadership position given the way he had spoken to us.

“Jennifer?  Alex?  Would you mind joining me?  I might need your help,” Tank said.

“Of course.”

When we went into the hut, we saw at once that Alexa wasn’t exaggerating.  Cutter was in dire shape.  He was lying on his bed of palm leaves.  He had a blanket over him, yet he looked somehow smaller to me than he had when we left him only this morning.  Worse, he was sweating profusely.  Here was a man who, like Tank, I’d never seen as anything but strong and vital.  But seeing him like this?  Seeing him like this was as awful and as terrifying as it was humbling.  I knelt beside him and took his hand in my own while Tank inspected his leg.

“Cutter?” I said to him.  “Can you hear me?  It’s Jennifer.  Alex also is here.  So is Tank.  He’s inspecting your leg.”

He was shivering so bad that when he spoke, it was with difficulty.  “You mean the murderer?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The murderer.  My leg.  The thing that’s going to kill me.”

“You are not going to die.  We are working to get off this island.  We need you to hold on.”

“Too late for that,” he said.  “I know what I’m feeling.  I know what this means.  I’m sorry this happened.  Please tell my parents and my brother that I love them.”

I wasn’t at all prepared for this, and my heart swelled in my throat from what I was seeing and hearing.  He was giving up.  He was letting go.  This man wasn’t even thirty yet—he hadn’t had the chance to live out his damned life, for God’s sake—and here he was, preparing himself for death.

His eyes locked onto mine when he said, “I’m not scared.  Don’t look so sad, OK?  Because it is OK.  God came to visit me earlier.  We talked for a while.  He sat right where you are now.  He said that He’d take care of me.  He said that everything would be OK.  And I know it will be.  I felt peaceful when He was here with me.  He said that the pain would only be temporary—that it would be worth it—because then I’d come to live with Him.  With no pain.  And no worries.”

It took everything I had within me not to burst into tears.  But I didn’t—I kept my emotions in check because I needed to be strong for him, regardless of how difficult it was.  As much as I wanted to turn to Alex for support, I didn’t look away from Cutter.  Instead, I released my hand from his, held the palm of it against the side of his cheek, and then kissed him on the forehead. 

“Cutter, whatever was said to you was said in kindness.  But you don’t need to leave us now.  You have the choice to stay with us.  And we want you with us.  In fact, we need you with us.  I’m going to be really selfish right now and ask you to fight to stay with us, because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t, Cutter.  And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.  I can’t imagine life without you.  At some point, all of us will have our time with God.  But right now?  Right now, isn’t the time for you.  You’re alive.  And to be alive is a gift.  You have to know that.  So, I need you to fight for that gift.  I need you to fight for yourself, for your parents, for your brother, and for us—your friends.  Your dearest of friends.  We can’t lose you, you know?  Come on, love.  How am I supposed to live without your protection?  At this point, you know that’s pretty much impossible.”

“God told me that Max was with him now.”

I looked into his glassy blue eyes when he said that, and again, I had to work through the tears that threatened to ruin me when he needed me most.  So, I did.  And I didn’t lie to him because—as out of it as he was now—I knew that he knew that Max was with God.

“Yes, Max is gone.  And too soon.  If he could be here now, I know he’d be.”

“But he’s alone now.  I should be with Max.  I could keep him company.  He needs me as much as you do.”

“I need you to think differently.  He’s not alone.  First of all, he has God.  Second, he has all of his relatives and friends who have passed before him.  He is not alone.  He is more than willing to wait to see you.  I know in my heart that he would be happy to wait.  If he were here right now, he’d be telling you to win.  He’d be insisting that you fight, because life is worth fighting for.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t think I can wait much longer, Jennifer.  Look at me.  I’m shivering.  I’m so cold right now, you can’t even imagine how cold.  I’ve seen this in the field.  So has Tank.  I know what’s about to come.  I know that I’m about to slip away, and it’s fine.  It’s OK.  I’ve had a good life.”

“But you haven’t had a full life,” I said to him, and when I said it, I was aware of the firmness in my voice—and where it came from.  I had to reach him on his level, and pull him back to what mattered—getting well.  I had to convince him that giving up was not an option.  So I spoke to his military roots.  “Stop this,” I said.  “Just stop.  Be a man and fight for your life, for God’s sake.  Who trained you, anyway?  Would they accept how you’re behaving now?”

His eyes widened when I said that, and he seemed startled by the tone of my voice. 

“No,” he said.  “They wouldn’t.”

“Then why are you acting like this?  As if it’s all over for you?  When did you become the pussy who didn’t fight back?”

His eyes started to droop, but then he shook his head in an effort to stay alert.  But already I could see by the delirious look in his eyes that he was fading.

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

“You listen to me,” I said in an effort to reach him before he slipped into unconsciousness.  “You will meet this head on.  You will get better.  You will use your mind to work through this.  When you sleep, you’ll pound the hell out of this.  And we will help you while you rest.  We only need a day or two, Cutter.  Don’t you dare tell me that you can’t hold on that long.  It’s not acceptable.”

“I’ll try, ma’am.”

“Not good enough.  I want to hear you say that you’ll do it.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” I said.  “That’s the Cutter I’ve come to know as a man.  That’s the Cutter who was raised to be a survivor, not some pussy who just gives it all up because of some bullshit infection.  Are you really going to give up your life because your leg was cut?  Seriously?  Be a man about this.  All right?  Do you understand me?”

His eyes started to flutter.

“Do you understand me?” I said in a louder voice.

“I understand, ma’am.”

“Then do this for me.  Do this for you.”

Just as he said that he would, he slipped away into the fog of the unknown.  Alex came up behind me, and I held onto his leg as I started to heave with tears in the face of a loss I knew in my heart was coming.

“How is he?” I asked Tank.  “What does the wound look like?”

“We have one more dose of penicillin that we can give him,” he said.  “That’s it.  The plant mixtures you and Alexa were able to find on the island have good antibacterial properties.  But they can’t fight this.  This is taking over his body.  If he’s going to survive, then he needs a major dose of clinical antibiotics.  After listening to your conversation with him and assessing him now, I’d say he’s got one day left in him.  Maybe two—at best.  Otherwise, we’ll lose him.”

“How can we save him?” I said.

Tank reached for a box at his side, removed the final vial of penicillin, and shot it directly into Cutter’s wound.  After he did that, he took one of the tiny bottles of vodka from the plane and poured it over the gash, and then smothered the cut with the paste Alexa and I had made from the plants we’d found on the island.  When he finished wrapping Cutter’s leg in the fresh banana leaves Alexa had collected for him, he looked at me and at Alex.

“Why don’t we start with your conversation with that woman who came upon you.  We’ll take it from there.”

*  *  *

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WHEN WE LEFT THE HUT, everyone was waiting with anticipation on their faces.

“How is he?” Blackwell asked.

“Not well,” Tank said.

“Why don’t you break that down for me.” she said.

“He could be dead by tomorrow.”

“We can’t allow him to die.”

“Do you have anything you’d like to offer to keep him alive?” he said sarcastically.  “Because if you do, we all need to hear about it before it’s too late.  So talk, Barbara.  Tell us what all of your years in fashion and at Wenn can do to help Cutter now.”

That was the first time ever I’d heard Tank snap at any of us, especially Blackwell.  But we were all under a lot of pressure, and he was only human—and could only take so much. 

All of us needed to talk about this.  We needed to let it all out—all of our fears, all of our anger, regardless of whether we offended anyone.  My Uncle Vaughn used to call it “putting everything on the table, and choosing what you wanted to eat.”  I knew at my core that the more we talked, the more we could work through what would come if Cutter did pass.

So, let it be, I thought.  Everyone needs to voice how they’re feeling—even if it becomes heated.  Especially if it becomes heated. 

And it did get heated.  But nestled in that heat was the love for a human being who meant a great deal to all of us.  Bound to that was the frustration that came from knowing that none of us could help him, and also knowing that there were hundreds on this island who absolutely could. 

In the end, tempers cooled.  And when they really chilled, Tank walked over to Blackwell, put his arms around her, and said that he was sorry for talking back to her—and more importantly, that he loved her.

*  *  *

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“IT’S TIME FOR US TO eat,” Alexa said when Tank stepped away from a teary-eyed Blackwell.  We all needed a change of subject, and Alexa, being the sensitive young woman that she was, deftly did a one-eighty on us by turning our attention to food.  “I fished while you were with him.  Lisa and Daniella helped.  It’s harder than I thought it would be.  We didn’t catch as much as we’d hoped, but it’s something.  We would have done better if we’d had Jennifer.”  She looked at me.  “None of us have your skills, though Lisa came pretty close.” 

She held out three skewers to me, which each held five fat red snappers.  “You did beautifully,” I said, looking at her catch.  “In fact, you did brilliantly.  You’ve got fifteen fish there, Alexa.  All of you did well.”

“Now, we’ve been waiting hours to hear what you and Alex went through with that woman,” Blackwell said.  “Would you mind telling us before we eat?”

“I’d like to hear it as well,” Tank said.

Alex and I told them everything.

“You never saw her?” Tank asked.

“Not once.  She concealed herself behind the brush.  She made it very clear to us that she didn’t want us to see her.”

“And she was cool toward you?”

“Actually, I’d say that she was rather hostile.  Icy.  Once again, the sentiment was there—they don’t want us here.”

“How old do you think she was?”

“Not young.  Given the sound of her voice, I’d say middle-aged.  Alex?”

“Agreed.  Fifties?”

“That sounds about right,” I said.

“Initially, she may have balked at your offer, but I can tell you this—that offer already has been presented to their people,” Tank said.  “And right now?  Those who are in charge of this island are weighing their options.  We’ll need to wait to see where the balance tips.  Ten million in cash is nothing to ignore.  Ten million dollars can keep them here until they’re dead, and until their children and grandchildren are dead.  That is, of course, presuming that they actually need the money.  But even if they don’t, it would be a difficult sum to turn down.  You suggested that she might want more.  Fine.  If they want more, Alex can and will provide more.  I’m certain of that.”

“Of course I can,” Alex said.  “And I will.  I’m only sorry that I didn’t think of bribing them sooner.”

“Each of us is trying to do our best,” Tank said.  “At least you thought of it when you did—and presented the options to her.  We only met them yesterday.  I was too concerned about Cutter to even consider it.”

“Same here,” Blackwell said.

“And neither did I,” I said.  “Alex’s offer might just save us.  Who knows what we’re dealing with here?”

“That’s the issue,” Tank said.  “You mentioned trust funds and inheritances, which in this case are valid—how else could they have lived here for so long without a stream of money to sustain them?  Someone here—or several here—come from wealth.  They couldn’t have done this otherwise.  They have means to do what they did.  But after so many years, how much money is left?  That’s the question.  After living here for decades, it should matter.  That is, unless we’re dealing with an extremely wealthy person who still has access to significant sums of cash—which is possible if it was invested properly.  Even still and as much as this island offers them, there’s never really such a thing as too much money, is there?  Because of that, I’m betting that they make a deal with us.”  He looked at Alex.  “And by the way, plan on paying more.”

“I’ll pay whatever it takes to get my wife and Cutter the medical treatment they need—and to get the rest of us off this island.  It isn’t an issue.  I’ll give them whatever they want.”

“When should we approach them?” I asked Tank.

“Tomorrow,” Tank said.  “Alex and I will go back to their compound.  We’ll go above that woman.  We’ll talk to the men.  We’ll make every effort to strike a deal.  If you’re able to come, Jennifer, it wouldn’t hurt.  You shared with that woman what you’re going through, but you didn’t share it with the men.  I want you with us for that reason.  I want them to hear you talk about your situation.  Unless they’re a bunch of cold motherfuckers, somebody should sympathize with your situation.  That—and the money—might be enough to get them to act.”