4 #2
The sun sets, and the shack glows with a flicker of light as Ace builds a fire outside, not too close that it can burn.
I stare over at him, squatting in front of it, keeping it alive by feeding dry palm fibres and splinters of driftwood.
The smell is sweet and earthy. It’s the first thing that makes me feel like maybe, somehow, we’ll survive.
Not because of the shack, but because something in Ace refuses to give up.
At some point I must drift off again, because I open my eyes to find Adrian sitting beside me, just staring at me. It takes me a moment to focus, and my eyes move around the shack, but he is the only one here. “Don’t panic, he just went to get dinner.”
“I wasn’t panicking,” I mutter. “Why are you staring at me? That’s creepy, Adrian.”
“I was making sure you didn’t stop breathing. Ace told me if anything happens while he’s gone, he’ll cut my other leg off.”
I press my lips together.
“What time is it?”
He shrugs. “Dark.” He rubs his hands together, then shifts. “Did you know your boyfriend built this place with his own bare hands?”
I glare at him, but it lacks venom. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Adrian snorts. “Whatever he is, that’s talent.”
He’s not wrong.
“Do you think this is it for us?” Adrian suddenly asks, turning to stare at me so intensely I shrink away a little. “Do you think this is where we’ll stay until something beats us and we die.”
Jesus.
I go to answer roughly, my tone short, but then I see the look on his face and the fear that hides behind his expression. He’s scared.
“I don’t know, Adrian,” I say, honestly. “I hope there is a way out for us, but until there is, we will do everything we can to survive. We have come this far, we will keep going.”
He nods.
We both just stare out at the fire, which is still flickering away.
I hope I’m right.
I really hope we survive this.
I DIDN’T THINK IT COULD get worse.
It does.
A few more days pass and the fevers increase to the point that I am sweating constantly, shivering, and my entire body is screaming in pain.
I have continuous abdominal cramps that feel as though a hot knife is being driven into my stomach.
If this is what being alive feels like right now, I choose death.
“Hey, Grace,” Aggie soothes, wiping a cloth over my face as I writhe in pain. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I can’t do this,” I groan. “Aggie, I can’t fucking do this. It hurts. So bad.”
“I know, honey. Ace has gone to find more painkillers. We’re going to do everything we can to make you feel better.”
“Please,” I beg. “Make it stop.”
I must drift off again, because I am woken up to the sound of Ace’s voice.
He enters, shaking water from his hair, telling me it must be pouring outside.
His shirt is stuck to his chest, and he’s panting.
“This is all I could find,” he says, holding up the orange pill bottle. “Four left. That’s it.”
I pretend not to notice the look Aggie and Ace share. The look of concern, maybe even fear.
He crouches in front of me, the space suddenly small, hot with his presence. My skin crawls, every movement a fresh agony. “Ace—” My voice cracks. “I need you to make this stop. Please.”
He tips the bottle and shakes a single pill into his palm. “I know, Gracie.” He slides it into my mouth and holds the water to my lips with an impossible gentleness. “But we have to make these last.”
I want to scream at him to dump the whole bottle down my throat, but I don’t. I let the pill slide down. “Am I going to die?” I croak.
“No,” Aggie says, her voice firm. “No, you are not.”
“It’ll stop,” Ace goes on, his jaw tight. “You just have to keep drinking. Aggie, can you go and get more water for these electrolytes? Coconut too, if you can.”
She nods and then disappears.
Ace’s hand moves to my forehead, tracking rivulets of sweat, and he wipes them away with the sleeve of his shirt. Each touch is a small mercy. “Try to sleep.”
I nod, but my head is pounding. The pain drills through my bones, bursts like static behind my eyes.
I can’t orient time. I’m underground, then burning up under the sun, then lost in black water with my limbs tied down.
Sometimes I hear them talking outside—Ace, voice like a slow storm, Aggie’s sharp inquiries, even Adrian’s distant sarcasm.
I can’t make any of it out. I just float.
Somewhere in the blur, I hear footsteps and a scuffle. Ace and another male voice, deeper, barking. I blink my eyes open to see Kellen, angrily glaring at Ace, his hands shaking. “It’ll fuckin’ help, Ace.”
Ace glares at him. “No, it fuckin’ won’t. Drugs ain’t the fuckin’ answer.”
“You got a better fuckin’ idea? We can crush this weed up, give her tiny doses for the pain and inflammation.”
“No. It’ll kill her,” Ace barks. “She’s already burning up, you want to shut down her fucking body, too?”
Kellen’s jaw works. “It is a tiny dose, Ace. Barely enough to change anything. It’s worth a shot.”
I try to speak, but my tongue is too heavy. My body twists, a bolt of nausea flipping my stomach. Kellen glances at me, hands balled into fists. “I’m not watching her die out here.” The force of his anger is almost comforting.
Fear washes over me.
Aggie appears, soaked through, a water bottle in one hand and a coconut in the other.
“Try some coconut water with electrolytes mixed in. It’s worth a shot giving her a bigger dose.
Also, Zeke has made salt from the ocean.
He boiled it down and so we put a hit of that in there, too. Salt will help her muscles and pain.”
Ace nods.
She walks over, placing the coconut down and bringing the water bottle to my lips. I take a sip and force myself to swallow, even though the taste is absolutely vile. I retch once, maybe twice, but it stays down.
“Good girl,” she says, and I want to cry from the simple way her voice softens.
The pain ebbs and roars, a tide that never leaves me alone.
Hours pass—maybe days, I don’t know—punctuated by Ace cooling my skin, Aggie giving me water, Tatiana just lying with me, and sometimes Rachel even sits with her hand tucked over mine, whispering stories about her own childhood like I’m her sick baby sister.
Through it all, Kellen and Zeke argue about the best ways to crack a coconut, whether a sharpened rock or repeated blunt force trauma is best.
It takes days, but eventually, when my eyes open, it doesn’t feel like I’m dying.
I still feel horrible, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I’m alone in the shack, but I can hear voices outside.
Kellen, I think, and Rachel.
As the voices go on, it becomes apparent that I’m right, it is the two of them.
“What sort of sick game are you playing here, Kellen?” Rachel whispers, her voice a low whip. “I’m not a plaything because you’re fucking bored out here. Aggie, are you serious? You honestly have the audacity to mess around with both of us?”
“Last time I checked, I didn’t promise anyone my fuckin’ loyalty. Never once have I told you that this was more than sex.”
“Wow,” Rachel hisses. “Well, I would have appreciated knowing that while you’re sticking your dick in me, you’re also sticking it in her.”
Oh.
My.
God.
“My personal business ain’t yours.”
“Are you fucking serious?” she screams, making me flinch. “We are all stuck on an island, with only each other. I think that maybe, just fucking maybe, the situation is a little different to normal.”
“Keep your voice down,” Kellen growls.
“Or what? Everyone might find out what a dick you really are?”
“I fucked her once. Weeks ago. Can you fuckin’ chill.”
“Oh, well, if that’s all, I am getting upset over nothing,” Rachel throws back sarcastically. “That clears everything up. You’re a dick, Kellen.”
Damn, Rachel is sassy.
A bitch—well, we all knew she could be one of those—but sassy... that’s new.
The shack’s thin walls do little to muffle the fireworks outside.
My brain is still nothing but hot mush, but the drama turns my stomach even more than the fever.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and I wish I could unplug my ears.
I don’t want to hear this, don’t want to know any more than I already do.
Let me go back to sweet, delirious blackout.
But my curiosity gets the better of me, and so I keep listening.
Rachel must toss something—there’s a solid thunk and a muffled fuck from Kellen.
A second later, he storms away, boots crunching, and then it’s just Rachel, pace-pacing back and forth alone.
She mutters to herself, rage and heartbreak wound up together.
I almost want to laugh, but I’m still too busy holding my own fractured pieces together.
Less than five minutes later, Rachel appears at the front of the shack, and her eyes widen when she notices me staring. “Thought you were asleep,” she says, voice lower, more careful. She hesitates, steps further in, arms crossed tight. “Let me guess, you heard all that.”
I nod, and then cough as I shift, moving my tired body into a more upright position. “You know this island isn’t big enough for secrets, right?”
Rachel is silent, jaw working a little. “Guess not.” She comes to sit at the foot of my bed, knees drawn up, chin on top.
She stares at the floor for a long time, as if memorising every splinter.
I do feel bad for her, even though Aggie is my best friend.
I can see that it’s hurting her and that is never a nice feeling.
Especially when you have feelings for someone.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and genuinely, I mean it. “He’s a dick.”
Her mouth tugs up at the side, a ghost-smile at best. She turns, picks at a fraying strand on my bed, and finally says, “So, what part did you hear?”
“Enough,” I answer quietly. “You and Kellen. And Aggie.” I stop there, because even speaking her name tastes like guilt.
She exhales. “Fuck.” After a moment, she says, “I’m sorry you are caught in the middle now.”
Damn.
That is absolutely not where I want to be.