FOR EMERGENCIES, SEE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER: Sign posted inside small dock house at northern end of Rapture Island in Narragansett Bay. The rugged building doesn’t appear to have been in use for many years. (Personal photo/Josephine Saint-Martin)
A howling gust of wind roars through the door, driving rain into the dock house. Our cooler shifts across the floor, and the door slams shut, leaving us in darkness.
“What … was that?” I shout over the driving rain. It sounds like a war hitting the metal roof. I’m scrambling to get up in a panic, but my legs don’t work. Knees jelly.
Naked Lucky is already on his feet, taking all his warmth away, and yanking the door open to peer outside.
Can’t see much of anything—it’s raining too hard—but I think the dock house got struck by lightning. The gods are smiting us for our wickedness.
“Did we get hit?” I shout, holding a hand up to my face as rain comes through the crack in the door that Lucky peers through. “The lightning rod worked?”
It must have, because we’re still standing. “Can’t see anything,” Lucky says, coming back to hurriedly slip his clothes on, and I do the same, a little panicked. After a minute or so, when the rain slows enough for us to open the door all the way and prop it back with the cooler, we both stick our heads outside to assess the damage. I notice that a utility light is now shining down on the sign. It’s probably automatic, one that has a sensor that detects when it’s dark and triggers it to turn on. I’m so busy thinking about this that I don’t notice that Lucky is frozen.
He’s staring agog at the pier.
What’s that funny smell?
Oh God.
He’s not staring at the pier, because there is no pier. There’s only a single wooden pole where it was once attached to the land, and it’s scorched black and smoking. Pieces of wood drift on the surface of the dark water in every direction as if they were hit by a bomb. And the Narwhal …
Our boat is currently unmoored, afloat on the horizon, a good quarter mile away from the island, dragging half the pier behind it.
The dock house wasn’t struck by lightning.
The pier was.
We’re both too dumbfounded to react for several moments. Then thunder rumbles again in the distance, and Lucky shakes himself roughly, scattering rain droplets over both of us.
We’re stranded on an island.
Nobody knows we’re here.
And I just had sex for the first time.
With my best friend.
Oh my dear lord … I think I’m going to pass out. I snap my seasickness wristbands over and over, as if that will magically help the situation somehow.
“Okay,” Lucky says, voice strained. “Let’s just be rational here.”
“Rational,” I agree.
“I could swim out and get it … ?” he says, voice going up an octave, as if he can’t believe he’s suggesting it himself, but he can’t think of anything else to do.
Panic fires through my limbs. “Out there? Out there?”
“Well? It looks like the pier was hit, not the boat.”
I point emphatically. “Who cares? It’s already God-only-knows-how-far out in the ocean. You can’t swim that! You could drown. Die. There are sharks in the bay!”
“Only dogfish and sandbars.”
“At the rate we’re going, your mythical kraken is probably down there!”
“Josie—”
“No, Lucky—absolutely not. You aren’t Saint Boo. You don’t have extra cat lives to risk on stupid feats of machismo—so forget it. We’ll just call your dad, and he’ll come get us. He’s got a tugboat thing-y, right? So even if the Narwhal is dead in the water, he can tow it. That’s what he does.”
“No signal.”
“There must be.”
Lucky pushes wet hair out of his eyes. “Already checked, back in the stone circle when you were taking photos. There’s no signal out here. Usually isn’t, once you clear a certain point in the harbor. That’s why you need Wi-Fi onboard.”
I quickly dig out my phone and shield the screen with one hand. Have I really not checked it the entire time I’ve been out here? That must be some kind of record. But he’s right. No signal. Shit! I swing around wildly, trying to figure out what we can do. Surely there’s an emergency call box out here? A rowboat?
“What about the lighthouse? These lights weren’t on before?”
“Automatic, probably.”
That’s what I thought too, but probably isn’t good enough. What if the lighthouse keeper has returned? We run off toward the lighthouse to double-check, but it’s still locked up as tight as it was before. No side door, either. No call box, no nothing.
“Oh, fuck me,” Lucky moans over my shoulder as we slosh our way back to the dock house. “How is this happening? Why does everything I do turn to shit?”
I blow out a hard breath and try to think. Can’t use our phones. No landline. Lighthouse locked up. Lighthouse keeper nowhere to be found. Narwhal too far out to swim to.
Lucky’s thinking the same. I can see it in his long face. “Bound to be another boat that comes by here when the storm passes. Barring that, my parents will notice when we don’t show up for Sunday dinner. They know we’re on the boat.
“They’ll notify the Harbormaster,” he assures me. “My dad knows the harbor like the back of his hand. He’ll find us. And the Narwhal can’t float away that far. I think?” He shakes his head as if he’s not sure but trying to convince himself. “People around here aren’t going to steal a boat.”
“We pretty much did! What if your parents decide to press charges against us?”
He rolls his eyes. “They aren’t going to press charges.”
“Sorry, I’m just … freaking out.”
“Someone will find it floating at sea. It’s registered to us, and everyone knows my family. They’ll return it.”
I try not to let him know how panicked I feel as we enter the dock house. “You’re right. It’s going to be fine. The Narwhal will be fine, you’ll get it back, and our parents can’t be too mad about lightning. That wasn’t our fault.”
“Lots of things aren’t my fault, but it’s funny how I’m always stumbling my way into them,” he says, miserable. “Maybe you’re not the one who’s cursed. Maybe it’s me.”
“Hey,” I say after a quiet moment. “I’d rather be cursed with you than with anyone else right now. In case you care.”
He looks up from the floor and gives me a weary smile. “I care.”
“We’ll get through this. We’re outlaws, remember? A couple of desperados.”
Lucky snorts. “Oh, that’s us, all right. Hardened criminals.”
“I can’t even drink milk past the expiration date,” I admit.
“I take the blame for crimes that aren’t even my fault.”
I whimper and check my phone again, just to be sure there isn’t a signal. There’s really not. Technology: great until it’s useless. I pocket my phone and try not to cry.
“Josie?” he says in a low, unguarded voice.
“Yes?”
“Whatever happens, I regret nothing.”
I reach for his face and gently run my hand over his scars, pushing back his hair. Awash in emotion. “Whatever happens, I wouldn’t change a thing.”