Chapter Four
Pushing up the wide brim of his fisherman’s hat, Brian tipped his head back and squinted.
The cliff wasn’t quite a sheer face where it rose out of the jungle, but it was close.
The dull throb of a headache that wouldn’t go away spiked behind his eyes.
His sunglasses had been in the cockpit, lost now.
At least he was out of his dank uniform and into cargo shorts and a fresh shirt.
He wore a white tank top the Aussies would call a singlet and Americans an undershirt.
The other black tank top he’d packed stretched across Troy’s broad chest. He’d only been planning to spend a day in LA, but always packed a few extra clothes in case.
Troy was a little shorter than Brian, but muscular and more defined. The navy board shorts Brian had given him were a tight fit, but they’d do. He’ll lose weight soon enough, he thought grimly.
He’d volunteered for search and rescues a few times since he’d moved to Australia, and he knew how hard it was to actually spot anything from a search plane.
The ocean was a frighteningly big place, especially when you were lost in it.
At least they were on land and not a life raft. That was a huge advantage.
“There’s no way, man.” Troy shook his head, the bandanna almost blinding in its orangeness. “No way.”
“I did some abseiling in the Blue Mountains, but this is way out of my league. Also, we don’t have any ropes.”
“Some what?”
“It’s another word for rappelling. That’s what they called it.”
Brian scanned the rock for hand and foot holds.
After failing in a quest to find a fresh water supply in the area near the beach, Brian had napped while Troy kept an eye on the fire.
Despite his headache and the glare, Brian was feeling better, so they decided to see if it was possible to get on top of the cliff and light a fire up there.
Chirps and rustles and the odd squawk filled the silence, the jungle a living, breathing thing, smelling of earth and sweet moisture. From the corner of his eye, Brian could see Troy anxiously looking left, right, and behind them regularly.
Brian gazed up again. They didn’t want to stray too far from the beach, and there seemed to be no end to the steepness of the cliff.
No sloping hill that led to the top. It was as though the rock had exploded violently from the earth, jutting up stubbornly.
From what he knew about the formation of volcanic islands, it probably had.
“What was that?” Troy asked sharply. “There’s something on the ground.
” He lifted his feet, left and then right, repeating the little standing dance as he stared at the fallen leaves and twigs and jerked his head around.
He wore Brian’s flip-flops, the only other shoes Brian had packed.
They were good quality at least, not cheap plastic.
Still, he had to admit he felt more secure in his leather shoes, which had been a size too tight for Troy.
Brian peered down. “I don’t see anything. Just walk carefully.” He winced. “Sorry, I know that’s terrible advice.”
Troy snorted. “Thanks for these, though. Much better than being barefoot and wearing my smelly stuff.”
“Of course.”
“Good thing we got your suitcase off the plane.” He smiled teasingly. “And you’ve got that stylish hat.”
Brian grinned. “I sure do. My grandfather’s Tilley. This thing is damn near indestructible.” He took off the worn khaki hat and spun it in his hands. “A good hat is a must in the tropics.”
“Your grandfather’s? That’s cool.”
“Yeah.” Brian suddenly thought of their last camping trip.
He could almost taste the s’mores all these years later; smell the campfire and hear the old songs he could never sing well, but still knew by heart.
Shaking it off, he plopped the hat back on his head.
“We’ve gone pretty far. I don’t think this cliff is climbable.
We should get back to the beach to check the fire and use the signaling mirror. ”
Troy gazed around again nervously. “Good idea. I like the beach better.”
Brian led, pushing back the leaves and generally making a racket he hoped would send anything scurrying out of their way.
“Hey, should we write something in the sand? Like, SOS or whatever?”
“Absolutely. Great idea. We can search for rocks.” At the very least, it would keep them busy.
Brian wanted to curl up in the shade and sleep until his headache subsided, but the early hours and days of a search and rescue were vital.
They had to do everything they could to attract attention if they were lucky enough to have search planes in their quadrant.
His stomach churned. They were so far away. The odds of being found were astronomical. He tried to shake the thought loose. We’re alive. Take it one day at a time.
At the beach, they added more wood and leaves to the fire, creating as much smoke as possible. Brian eyed their meager collection of worldly items. “We need something to catch rain. I guess my carry-on is the biggest container we have.”
Troy peered at the clear blue sky. “Doesn’t look like there’ll be rain today.”
“I think it usually comes in short bursts this time of year. I guess we’ll see.”
“Hopefully they’ll find us soon and we won’t have to worry about it.”
It was good Troy was so optimistic, even if Brian didn’t share the feeling.
“I’ll get the suitcase emptied out just in case.
” They still had several plastic bottles of water that he’d grabbed from the plane, but he really hoped it rained soon.
Drinking rainwater was far preferable to straining and purifying river water if they were lucky enough to find any.
Since his suitcase had been soaked, the contents were still damp.
The tanks and shorts he and Troy wore had dried quickly in the heat after they’d put them on, but now he looked for somewhere to hang the sodden flannel blankets he’d grabbed.
The listing palm trees along the edge of the jungle of course had no branches, but he used the orange rope as a clothesline, tying it between two trees.
“I’m going to find some rocks.”
“I’ll help you. I—” Brian straightened from where he’d been bending over and stumbled, his head spinning.
“Whoa!” Troy was there, gripping his shoulders. “I think you’ve done enough. Sit. You can do the mirror.”
Brian wanted to argue—he shouldn’t let his passenger do the hard work—but the headache pulsed behind his eyes. “Okay. Be really careful with rocks. Might be spiders or something living underneath them. Don’t go far into the jungle. I really should come with you. I’m—”
“You’re sitting down.” Troy pushed gently, but there was iron underlying his grasp. “Come on. Not too close to the fire.”
As Brian sat and crossed his legs in the sand, he had to admit it felt good to be off his feet. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Um, you have a head injury? That’s a good place to start.” Troy handed him the mirror. “I was thinking of those rocks over there, by the end of the island.”
Brian gazed to his right. He hadn’t really noticed the smaller black volcanic rocks that dotted the beach’s end; his attention had been focused on the cliff face, and whether…
He shook off the macabre thoughts. Paula’s dead.
It was over in a heartbeat for her. Nothing can change it now. “Good idea. Still be careful.”
“I will. Make sure you keep your hat on.” Troy squinted at him uneasily, looking as if he wanted to say more. Finally he added, “It’s hot.”
“Uh-huh. I’m fine.”
Although he didn’t appear entirely convinced, Troy went off toward the cliff. It really was damn hot, eighty degrees if not more. They’d need to build something for shade in the next few days.
Brian pulled out the signaling mirror and read the instructions on the back, which had a round indent in the middle of the plastic about the size of a nickel. A little star-shaped pinhole for sighting sat in the center of the indent.
After lifting his hand and reflecting sunlight onto it with the mirror, he slowly lifted the sighting hole to his eye, finding the bright dot.
It felt like needles pierced his brain, but he had to suck it up.
Now he was supposed to aim this dot at his target, but not having a specific plane or ship in sight, he panned back and forth across the horizon as suggested by the instructions.
A few times he had to start the process again and find the dot.
“How’s it going?” Troy asked as he passed by with a rock in his hands.
“Getting the hang of it, I think.”
After ten minutes, his head throbbed too powerfully to ignore, and he swallowed two more Advil. After closing his eyes for a few breaths, he forced them open so he didn’t fall asleep. Focusing on Troy hefting up a rock by the cliff, he watched.
Troy really wasn’t at all what he’d expected. He’d gotten the call to copilot the overseas flight and hadn’t given any thought as to passengers until Paula had indulged in that giddy little smile in the terminal and leaned in with eyes shining, almost bouncing on her toes.
He had to squeeze his eyes shut at the thought, bracing through a wave of nausea and sorrow. The storm had cleaned the stone of Paula’s blood and remains, but he could still feel the solid flesh of her arm in his hand.
Why hadn’t he been a better friend? She’d asked him for drinks repeatedly, insisting he’d be a great wingman so she could pick up hot chicks.
He’d disagreed, but had actually been tempted a few times.
Paula had teased and cajoled and made him smile for real.
While he knew he’d never love flying again, he’d liked it with Paula, and that was more than he’d had in a long time.