Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
And the truth was a total fucktastrophe and we were utterly screwed.
“Oh God.” I covered my gaping mouth. “It’s huge.”
“That’s what she said,” Hunter said in a low voice as if to himself, his eyes assessing the damage.
“I’m glad one of us still has a sense of humor.”
The giant hole facing us sucked in the last hope I had to get out of there.
The Reely Nauti looked like a prop from Jaws.
The rupture started from the middle of the starboard and ran at least five feet to the stern.
One part of the opening was wide enough for me to slide through it easily.
How did this happen? I looked at the bay with boulders sticking out in the distance, but the boat was secured to the dock, so it shouldn’t have a ravine.
Swallowing, I turned to Hunter. “Can you fix it?” Why did I even ask when I knew the answer was are you kidding me?
He raked frustrated hands over his hair, then linked them on the top of his head. “Only with magic.”
I wanted to cry. Like really hard. Like a tired toddler.
And I was tired. So, so physically exhausted.
Never in my life had I done as much manual labor as I had in the last week.
And it was all for nothing. We might need to play more “get to know you” games since we were screwed for an indefinite number of days.
“Can we at least try, please?” There was no hope in my tone, just desperation. “Stuff the hole with life jackets or those fishing buoys.”
He cast me a tired sideways look, his jaw clenching as if he was on the edge of impatience, before turning on his heels and marching into the shadows of the jungle where his workshop was.
My feet moved to follow Hunter, but I faltered.
Perhaps he needed some time alone, a space to process our circumstances.
Just like me, he had a life and business to get back to, and the Grand Canyon on the side of the Reely Nauti was a mega drawback.
I had to find a quiet place where I could come to terms with the fact that I was stuck on this island until we could catch a ride on some random passing boat or seaplane.
I padded down the coastline toward the hut, my feet sinking into the warm sand.
In the heart of the horizon, the sun hung low, its amber rays skidding upon rolling waves.
As I neared the leaning palm tree, a bright green object perched on the black rocks stole my attention.
The color looked similar to the washed-up toddler lifejacket we found yesterday while cleaning the beach.
Changing my course, I walked to the water, concentrating on the piece of trash.
The closer I got, the slower my breathing became, and then my heart jolted when I recognized the floating bag holding the urn with my father’s ashes.
Excitement rippled and a startling new hope shot through me: I haven’t failed my father.
I could finish his mapped-out sailing trips, spreading his ashes.
I could learn how to sail and buy a good boat with the money from the house sale.
I didn’t have to do it all in one year. Or maybe I should?
Take a gap year or two and say “screw it” to my job. Okay, I may have gone too far there.
I hesitated, turning to see if I could find Hunter first, but then a wave hit the rocks, its white talons grazing the bag.
Without further thought, I waded knee-deep into the water but stopped short.
The wave had wedged the bag much higher than I could reach without first climbing the darn rocks.
To this day, fear of the water snakes had kept me away from that foot of the mountain.
I’d watched Hunter wade into the ocean up to his thighs and disappear around the corner only to reappear a few feet higher, climbing on large stones, before sliding between two rocks and vanishing from view again.
Not once did he get hurt. Maybe the snakes moved out or died, and the crabs ate them.
The wind was calm, but the waves crashed hard, reaching the bag’s bottom.
A wave could push the bag off at any moment, and it would be lost in the sea forever.
The right decision was to wait for Hunter, but I couldn’t lose my dad’s ashes again.
I took a deep breath and approached the area in the same way I’d seen Hunter do many times before when tides were low.
I closed in on the spot, my eyes searching for snakes in the water and on nearby rocks.
None so far. A school of bright fish darted around my legs.
My heart thumped hard against my chest. This was a bad idea.
Green seaweed blanketed a broad area with a large rock providing a great stepping stone to get higher.
I stepped on the slippery rock, the algae carpet soft below my feet, and quickly crossed to the flat slab.
I stopped, checked for snakes, and climbed on it.
From here, the path wasn’t straightforward, just chunks and bits of the mountain piled up as if, at some point, the wall had collapsed.
Passing between stones, I ascended to the next level.
After another inspection pause, I maneuvered to improve my footing and went higher.
Then I shifted sideways with my chest and stomach pressed hard against the boulder, the rays of sunlight warming my skin.
With my fingers digging into the cracks, I navigated around the ledge, the unsympathetic surface of the stone abrading me.
The bag was within my reach. Almost. My body trembled as I rose on my tiptoes, one hand holding onto the side of the rock and my feet close to sliding off its slick surface.
I stretched as far as I could, reaching for the bag, my fingers hovering near the edge of the green plastic, so close yet unreachable.
Unable to grab it, I rested my head against the stone.
If Hunter saw me now he wouldn’t be happy, but I was sure he would understand later why I had to do this. Once he’d stopped being mad at me.
Another wave slammed into the boulder, spraying me with cold, salty mist. I took a breath and tried again. My fingers brushed a corner of the bag and then pinched it. With a gentle yank, the bag fell, but my grip didn’t let it go.
“I got you,” I whispered. Happy tears ran down my face as I drew the bag to my side and shuffled back. My mind swirled with the belief that everything in my life was coming back on the right track. Not all was lost.
“What the hell are you doing there?” Hunter shouted, walking toward me.
I lifted the bag, triumphantly. “This is my dad.”
“Just stay there. I’m coming.”
“I’m okay.” I scrambled down, jumping from one rock to another, to the next one, and then—
Two black snakes with a dark red stripe along their length struck my leg.
Once.
Twice.
A scream tore through my throat. Fear and pain pierced through me like a spear, and then a numbing sensation spread like wildfire over my body.
My fingers let go of the bag, and I tried to grab the edge of a rock, but I missed it and stumbled face-first into the sea.
Water rushed into my nose, my mouth, and pooled in my ears.
The sandy bottom was within my reach, and I knew what to do.
I needed to get up, but my arms and legs didn’t respond.
I couldn’t move. I was drowning. An image of Bambi in the storm flashed before me. Her eyes swam with fear when she knew her fate. My throat clogged.
Strong hands yanked me out of the water and carried me to the shore.
“Why would you go there?” Hunter demanded, his voice distant.
Every breath was a struggle.
Was I even breathing?
He eased me onto the sand, then disappeared from view, leaving me staring at the purple skies with amber hues. Hunter reappeared and took my face into his hands.
“Blink if you can hear me.”
I closed my eyes but couldn’t reopen them. My chest was heavy, and at the same time, a sensation came over me like I was falling through space.
“Sydney, goddamnit, look at me!” Hunter shouted.
My eyes fluttered open.
Hunter moved my hair off my face, his eyes full of concern. “Damn you. Don’t scare me like that.” He collected me in his arms, then pushed to his feet and carried me to the hut.
“If you continue getting hurt, I’ll run out of medication before I can send your annoying ass back home.” He lowered me onto the bed and propped my head on the pillow. “Keep looking at me. Watch what I’m doing. Listen to my voice.”
The fear of dying and poison (literally) paralyzed me.
Bitten twice. Was it bad? An overdose of venom.
I couldn’t deny that, aside from the horror of this situation, I felt weightless and relaxed.
My eyes closed again. If death finally found me, this was a peaceful, painless way to go. Well, sort of.
The weightlessness vanished, and I plummeted through the darkness.
A flicker of gold flashed like a match struck in the night.
The arrows on Hunter’s tattoo caught and sliced my skin on my shoulder, my arm, the side of my torso.
My back collided with a three-masted ship topgallant yard.
Pain. So much pain. My limp body slid down the topsail.
I twisted and turned, my hands grasping slacks, but they slipped through my fingers like sand.
I crashed on the cold metal of the magnetic needle of the compass.
Nausea threatened to overtake me as the needle spun out of control, making meridian lines blend, but the etched digits of two, three, six, and nine over the cardinal directions flared on the gold sundial.
2. 3. 6. 9.
N. E. S. W.