Chapter Thirteen #2
The path is wide enough to walk side by side, the undergrowth flattened out after a week of trips. Cillian and I fit side by side, but if we were to divert either left or right, it would be hard going for even one person, never mind two.
“Was this a man-made path?” I ask.
“I think so,” Cillian says. “Seán says this island was likely one used as a “foraging” tourist attraction a decade ago, so having a way to get inland to find water would make sense. I’ll point it out to you in the glade, but I think some construction was done there.”
At what I guess is the halfway point, I wrestle the bamboo off Cillian.
And then, because I don’t want Cillian to notice, I hide how exhausted I am when we reach the glade.
The pool is against the hill, a mound of dark-grey rock that juts out over most of the water like an awning. The water is crystal clear. I can make out every individual stone at the bottom. “It’s beautiful.”
“See those mosses all along the edge? They’re cleaning the water. That’s why it’s so clear.”
There’s a natural half-moon-shaped area of flat ground around the pool that’s clear of trees. There are grasses and shrubbery, but nothing higher than our waists.
“How come the trees didn’t spread closer?”
Cillian digs his heel into the ground and turns up the soil. Only a few inches down is solid grey rock. “Not enough soil for their root systems.”
We kneel at the edge of the water and start filling the bamboo jugs. My tongue feels dry as I watch the crystal-clear water. It’s cool, too. “I want to jump in,” I admit. “It looks like heaven.”
Cillian’s lips twitch. “There’s a path leading to the top of that lip, there.
” He points out a gap in the trees off to the right side of the pool where the hill slopes up.
I see a natural break in the treeline, like the one we walked through to get here.
“It goes straight to the top of the hill, but there’s a path that branches off that, and it leads to the overhang.
It’s deep enough at the edge to jump in. ”
I eye up the spot he pointed to.
Cillian stiffens. “Not that you’re allowed to jump in. That spot is very narrow. You’d have to keep your arms and legs tucked, and if—”
I splash him. “Please feel free to assume I have a brain.”
Cillian snorts, shaking out his wet hair. “Now that I’m well aware, Jules.” We exchange a look. I grin. He’s not saying it in a bad way.
That night, we share stories about pier-jumping. Cillian and I grew up doing it. Mathieu makes us promise to bring him once we’re rescued.
◆◆◆
I peel away from Cillian and Mathieu, slick with sweat and the remnants of my nightmare.
I crawl out of the lean-to. Early dawn lights up our camp.
A new lean-to is sheltering the collected food.
Beside it, there’s a pile of coconuts and carefully arranged bamboo jugs filled with clean, boiled water.
Mint leaves, toilet leaves, a crude chessboard that Mathieu and I put together yesterday, hoops that we fashioned the day before. I put logs on the fire and continue on.
I go to the shore and sit, feet in the water. I stare out at the yacht, still half-submerged.
I haven’t had the car crash nightmare since I was a kid.
Cillian finds me an hour later and joins me, studying the yacht too. I wait until his attention moves to me.
“My neck is good,” I say. It’s stiff from the sleeping arrangements, but the sharp pain of it is gone. “I have my range of movement back. I think the walk inland helped.”
“There could be a current we can’t see.”
I’m not going to pressure him because he could literally drown if this goes wrong. “I’ll go first and—” I start.
“Don’t bother finishing that sentence.”
“I want to shave. I want to brush my teeth. I want to sleep in a bed.” My heart tightens, memories swimming up my throat. I swallow them before I choke. “Mathieu’s lost weight. So have you. Mary’s ankle isn’t any better, and neither is Seán’s arm. Let’s go get that radio and call home.”
Cillian studies me, then turns his gaze to the yacht. “The water is calm.”
“Skies are clear,” I add.
He rubs a hand over his stubble, which is quickly becoming a full-blown beard. My own is growing in pale blond, and I hate it. “Alright, let’s talk to everyone. Now?” he checks.
“Now,” I agree.
I should have predicted that Cillian would be a pain. I scowl. The entire group is gathered around the path to camp to watch our argument. “You’re not swimming out there when I’m the one who suggested it.”
“Someone who knows where the radio is and how to use it needs to go, and there’s no point in both of us going,” Cillian replies. He doesn’t back down from my glare, staring stubbornly back at me.
“It’s in the cockpit, and I know how to use a radio. The point of both of us going is so that if one of us gets into trouble, the other can help them. If you get a cramp halfway there, by the time I get out to help, it’ll be too late.”
“If I get a cramp, the last thing I want is you coming near me to get dragged down.”
“You can float. You’ll relax, and I’ll pull you along the rest of the way, or back to shore.”
“No.” There isn’t the tiniest iota of give in Cillian.
I step in, lowering my voice. Cillian’s pupils flare. His hands rest on his hips, and his whole body leans towards me.
“We had an agreement,” I remind him. “You don’t get to go if I don’t.”
Cillian’s gaze darts over my mouth, then locks on to my eyes. Tension radiates off him, crackling across my skin. “I’m not breaking any promises. You can come too.”
I relax.
“After I make sure it’s safe.”
The relaxation vanishes, and I take a step, getting in his face. Cillian doesn’t back down, body getting tighter with coiled-up energy. “What do you think you can even do about it?” I challenge. “You’ll say ‘wait here’, and I’m going to obediently sit down and do as I’m told?”
“Sending one person out first is the smart thing to do,” Cillian says, voice on the edge of being dangerous.
That tone of voice would have me shying away from Darren, but it has the opposite effect on me coming from Cillian.
It’s been a rough week, and that’s putting it nicely, and the longer it’s gone on, the more people’s good humour has dried up and tempers have flared.
Cillian has been on the receiving end of a lot of snaps, but I’ve yet to see him lose his temper back. I wonder what that would look like.
He’s tall and muscular. I’m sure if he were in a true rage, he’d terrify everyone. So why do I want to see it? Why do I want to place my hands on his chest and shove, just to see how he reacts?
Seán steps in, putting a hand on Cillian’s chest and applying pressure. Cillian resists it at first, eyes locked on mine. Seán pushes harder. “Cillian,” he warns. Cillian takes a deep breath and steps back.
Off to the side, Mathieu is watching. He seems more curious about who will win our fight than interested in intervening. That’s better for me, since he’s proven himself a traitor when it comes to following Cillian’s rules.
“Cillian is right,” Seán says.
“Are you seriously taking his side?” I demand.
Seán’s brows rise. “I didn’t bring Cillian along just because you asked. He’s got more experience than I do, and if he’s suggesting something for safety reasons, I’m listening.”
Cillian looks like he’s expecting a rebuttal, but I know from their demeanour that I’ve lost.
“Got them!” Charles calls from down the beach. We all look in his direction and see a string of salt-stiffened life jackets over his arm. Surprise shoots across Cillian’s face, followed closely by something rueful. I bump against his side, though I don’t manage to shift him over.
“What’s wrong, Mr Safety Expert? Did you forget about the life jackets?”
I swear that Cillian’s eyes glow as he turns his gaze slowly to me.
Seán puts his good arm around my shoulders and physically pulls me with him back towards the group.
“I think you woke up on the wrong side of your leaf pile.” He guides me all the way to Mary, sitting on the edge of the treeline.
I drop down heavily next to her and glare at Cillian for his entire “safety” talk.