Chapter Five
“You know how to make a teepee?” Brian looked up at Troy from the slender, downed trees they’d dragged from the mouth of the jungle. After a few moments, he pushed up his hat and raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Oh, that wasn’t rhetorical? No, dude, I don’t know how to make a teepee. You were the Boy Scout, remember? I was too busy taking tap lessons.” Troy swatted away a fly and scratched his bare, mostly smooth chest, yawning widely.
They’d walked the length of the island at dawn after being rudely awoken by the honking, squawking parrots. It was about two miles or so long and half the width. Squinting into the distance, the other side of the island had appeared virtually identical and just as deserted.
To sea, there was nothing on that side either—not even a blip in the line of the horizon as the sun rose in the cloudless sky.
Not wanting to exert themselves too much with a limited food and water supply, they’d returned, hauling any wood that looked useful.
They’d swim around the cliff end of the island and walk down the other side another day.
First, they needed to spend their energy on shelter and food.
And before that, Brian needed to sit for a minute. He rubbed the back of his neck, stretching his head left and then right. The headache had eased, although dull pressure still throbbed against his eyes. The sun’s glare was merciless.
“Tap dancing? Really?”
Troy smirked. “Yep. Tap, jazz, ballet, hip-hop. Not to mention voice and acting lessons. Mom and Dad were obviously total stage parents. Dad had a vision.”
“Did you want to do it?” Brian asked.
“Sure. I liked it. But it wasn’t as if I had a choice.
It was just what we did. It was our normal.
Especially once Ty got started and they saw his potential.
He was such a little ham.” Troy smiled fondly, his gaze going distant.
“I was pretty good—worked hard and followed instructions. But Ty had that spark. Star quality, even back then.”
“Did the other kids at school give you a hard time?”
Troy scoffed. “In LA? They were jealous, especially when Ty and I got the TV show. Then we got tutored on set anyway, so it didn’t matter what anyone thought.”
Brian couldn’t imagine it. His upbringing with his grandparents in Western New York was positively quaint in comparison.
The most exciting thing he did was an annual Buffalo Bills game with his grandmother.
He smiled softly. Grandpa hadn’t cared for sports one way or the other, but Gran had been a football fanatic.
“A teepee’s a triangle, right?” Troy asked. “Are these trees tall enough?”
“As long as we have enough room to sit up comfortably, it doesn’t need to be super tall. Probably better if it isn’t. Less liable to blow over.” Brian sized up the trees. They were four or five inches in diameter, so should be sturdy.
They collected armfuls of palm fronds and spread them out far enough from the tree line that falling coconuts wouldn’t be an issue. A ton of fronds had ripped off during the storm, which was fortunate, since Brian didn’t enjoy the idea of climbing up a palm tree to cut some down.
“Sure you’re feeling up to this?” Troy asked.
“Yes, but thanks. Better today.” The pain was better, that was true. His head didn’t feel normal, but he kept that to himself as he reached up to take off his hat and poke at his forehead. “How’s the bruise?”
“Turning into a sick-looking yellow. Getting better.”
Brian hesitated after putting his hat back on. “Sick as in cool, or sick as in sickly? Not sure what the kids are saying these days.”
Troy laughed. “The second one. Although it is pretty badass. Looks like you punched someone with your face.”
“Thanks.” With a smile, Brian checked his watch and took out the mirror to do a sweep of the horizon. The sky was clear, perfect blue again. Not a cloud—or a plane. But he told himself it was only the second day the searchers would be out. There was still hope.
Faint, faint hope.
The silver emergency blankets were orange on one side, and they’d spread them out farther down the beach beyond the SOS, which they needed to finish.
They put smaller rocks on the corners of the blankets.
There was hardly any breeze to speak of, but they couldn’t afford to lose any of their supplies.
“Okay, now what?” Troy asked. “You’re the teepee expert. If you need me to do a little soft shoe, I’ll be right here.”
“Well, expert is overstating it greatly, but it’s a pretty basic principle. Stand the logs up in a circle and lean the tops together in a sort of triangle. Tie them with part of the rope, then cut off the rest so we still have a clothesline to hang wet stuff.”
“Right. And how do we stop from getting wet ourselves?”
“I’m thinking once we have enough wood for a solid base, we put the big orange blanket over the top. Use duct tape to secure it to the sides of the teepee. And we need to keep a space empty for a doorway. Won’t be perfect, but should keep the worst of the rain off.”
“Sounds good. Worth a try.” Troy scanned the heavens, his hand shielding his eyes as he turned in a slow circle. He refocused on Brian. “Let’s do it. Doesn’t sound too hard.”
Half an hour later, Brian wiped sweat from his eyes and peeled off his tank top. “You jinxed it,” he grumbled.
They stood on the fronds, trying to get the logs to stay put and lean against each other. Brian’s arms shook as he struggled to hold two of them. “Okay, lower—right there.”
Of course as soon as they let go, the logs tumbled over. They sighed in unison. It was going to be a long day.
After much cursing and sweating, they assembled their teepee frame and lashed together the tops of the wood with duct tape and the cut piece of nylon rope.
They draped the orange blanket over it, and of course it wasn’t even on all sides.
But it would have to do, and they adjusted it as best they could before going around and taping down the edges to the frame.
Troy passed Brian the knife after cutting off another length of tape. “Did you always want to fly?”
Brian rolled his neck to ease the sudden tension. “I suppose.” He cringed internally at the lie and cleared his throat. “Yes, actually. Ever since I can remember. I loved model planes and anything to do with flying. When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut, but I wasn’t smart enough.”
“Really? But you must have to be smart to be a pilot.”
He shrugged, slicing off more tape. “Smart enough. I got my degree in aeronautical engineering, then went to flight school. Started off with a regional airline and worked my way up.”
“Have you ever flown the big jets?”
Brian inhaled and exhaled. “I have.”
“Really? Cool! What’s that like?”
Images of blackened metal and white foam flashed into his mind. He wiped his forehead beneath his hat, sure that it had suddenly just gotten hotter. His skin prickled. “It was fine.”
“How’d you end up in Australia doing private planes? You didn’t like working for a big airline anymore?”
“Just wanted a change. Slower pace.”
“Do you miss it? Flying jumbo jets?”
Brian didn’t have to lie this time. “No.”
“Have you ever had any emergencies happen? Before this one, I mean.”
Brian sliced through a few inches of tape—and right into his thigh. Sucking in air, he bit back a gasp. “Shit.” The cut was just above his knee and below the hem of his cargo shorts, which had hiked up. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”
“Let me see.” Troy was at his side. “Not too deep, I don’t think. I’ll get the kit.” He scrambled up.
“Don’t know my own strength,” Brian joked lamely. He pressed his hand over the cut, which was a few inches long. “That knife is amazingly sharp. For the record.”
Troy returned with the first aid kit. “Once the bleeding stops, we should put iodine on it. Let me see.” He bent his head and peered close at the cut before putting a small piece of bandage over it and pressing down. “Should be okay.”
Troy’s palm was hot, his fingers against Brian’s knee. “It was a careless mistake.”
Deepening his voice, Troy scowled. “You can make a mistake once. Do it twice and you’re walking home.
” He laughed ruefully. “That’s what my dad used to say.
I was in a local production of the Wizard of Oz when I was a kid.
I was the Tin Man. Totally went up on my lines when I met Dorothy and stood there like a deer in the headlights.
In the car after, Dad told me his little mantra. I never missed my lines again.”
“Your dad was pretty intense.” Troy still pressed his hand firmly, and it was sweaty, but Brian didn’t mind.
Troy laughed. “That’s one way to put it. Hey, how’d you end up in Sydney?” Leaning over, he checked the cut, his breath tickling Brian’s skin.
“Seemed like a good place at the time. Nice weather. Seafood. Rugby on TV.” The other side of the world from everyone he knew.
“When did you move there?”
“Three years ago. I rent a tiny apartment in the burbs. Sydney’s expensive. But I have a private terrace with flowering trees between me and the neighbors.” He chuckled. “I’m sure that all sounds rather sad to you. You probably have a mansion.”
“No, it sounds…idyllic. And I don’t have a mansion.
Ty and I bought a house in Malibu, but it’s not that big.
I mean, it’s really nice, don’t get me wrong.
Four bedrooms, and it’s right on the water.
I know how lucky I am to live there. Although we’re hardly ever home since we’re on the road so much.
Mom didn’t see why we couldn’t keep living with her when we were in LA.
My dad bought their house after the TV show got picked up for season two, and it’s not like it isn’t big enough.
But I just couldn’t stay in my teenage bedroom after I turned twenty-four, you know?
And Ty was dying to get out. Although maybe he should have stayed at home.
” He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m babbling. ”
“I don’t mind.”