Chapter 27
ELLIE (PRESENT)
We are not going to be okay.
I rub my arms up and down as I watch Nate try to create a spark for the hundredth time.
He’s twisting a long wooden stick on top of a flat piece of bark, and I have no idea how that is supposed to produce a fire.
A chill sweeps down my body as the sweat from our earlier hike starts to cool against my skin.
The temperature is beginning to drop as the sun sets beyond the horizon.
We are back at the beach, far enough from the shoreline to avoid the tide.
We gathered materials on our way back from the waterfall to make a shelter and a fire. Neither of which we currently have.
“Everything is too goddamn wet,” Nate grunts, his frustration evident.
“Can we lay them out to dry?” He flicks his eyes to mine, assessing the seriousness of that statement.
I was serious.
“If you want to wait five to seven business days for a fire, sure.” he scoffs as he rotates the wood with fast fingers, drilling a hole into the bark beneath it. The stick snaps in half.
“FUCK!” He stands up and whips the remaining half toward the ocean as he stomps away.
He kicks the sand in front of him, causing the tiny crystal grains to fly up in the air before scattering back down to the ground.
I watch as he bends down, supporting his elbows with his knees and cupping his face as he tries to get a hold of his emotions. I’ve never seen him this discouraged.
Nate usually exudes confidence. Even with the cards he was dealt, he would always talk about the future so optimistically as if the life he wanted was within grasp despite how shitty the world around him was. He never backed down, and I’ve never seen him falter.
Until now.
Right now, he looks defeated, and that scares me more than anything.
He walks back over to me, bending down to my sitting height. “We need to get some sort of shelter up while we still have light. Can you grab those yucca leaves and scrape the green leafy part from the fibers? We can use them as cordage.”
I nod, wanting to say something to comfort him, but he’s down the beach again before I have a chance. I grab a flat rock from the sand, then gather the yucca plants so I can get to work. Nate starts constructing the outline of our shelter out of bamboo and palm leaves.
An hour later, the sparse sunlight we’d been working under completely disappears.
I am exhausted. My hands are dyed a yellowish green.
My back is aching, and I am thirsty enough that the salty ocean water is starting to look appealing.
The temperature outside feels like the frigid winter months even though I know it’s likely no colder than sixty degrees.
I stretch my arms over my head and try to work out the kink in my neck.
I feel Nate coming up behind me without even turning my head.
Strong hands grip my shoulders and massage the tight muscles with expert fingers.
His thumbs sweep up and down my neck, pushing deeper when he gets to my pressure points.
His closed fist kneads along my shoulder blades, working the knots out of my upper back.
I let out a soft moan, feeling the tension leave my body for the first time in hours.
My chin drops, and I close my eyes as he works his magic.
My chest pinches thinking about all the work he just did, yet he’s still putting me first. He always does.
I lean forward to stand up, letting his hands slide off of my shoulders with the movement.
“Sit,” I demand. Nate arches a brow, that sexy smirk forming as he looks at me. “Come on. Your turn. Sit.”
“As nice as that sounds, we don’t have time, baby. I need to get this shelter tied together.”
He bends down to kiss my cheek, then crosses the sand to pick up a pile of cordage.
He offers me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before heading back to the bamboo structure.
He’s made a teepee-style hut, tying the bamboo together at the top and digging the bottom into the earth to stabilize it.
The outside is covered in palm leaves to block out the wind and hide us from predators.
The shelter stands near the edge of the jungle, far enough away from the ocean that the tide won’t sweep us away in the night. Nate claims having the shelter out in the open is an invitation for wildlife to come explore, but I’m having a tough time seeing how being in the jungle is any safer.
Nate reaches for the top of the structure, adding more of the fibrous ropes to ensure its steadiness.
I watch as the defined muscles in his upper back flex when he ties palm leaves to the top of the shelter, like an overarching roof.
The toned muscles of his biceps bulge, straining against the fabric of his t-shirt and showcasing his impressive physique.
He was always in good shape, having to stay in top quarterback condition helped with that.
But now, he is much broader, filled out in all the right places.
His upper back and shoulders are defined with powerful muscles that taper their way down to his trim waist. His body is built in a way that confirms the boy I once loved… is now a man.
A sexy, gorgeous man.
A quiet drizzle descends from the clouds and interrupts my ogling. The slight chill I’ve been battling turns into full-fledged shivering. Nate runs over to me from where he was putting the final additions on the shelter.
“Come on, Pip. We need to get you out of the rain.” He reaches for my hand, the worry in his eyes plain as day.
“Is the shelter going to hold if there is a storm?” I ask, not really wanting the answer. Ignorance is bliss, right?
“Probably not.” He sighs. “But we are a little more protected under the canopy of trees, so that will help. I don’t see any storm clouds in the distance, so we should be okay.”
“But?”
“But this is going to make it even harder to make a fire tomorrow.”
“Well, maybe we will be rescued tomorrow and won’t need to worry about it.”
He smiles warmly as his sad eyes study my face. “Yeah, maybe.”
We run hand-in-hand toward the shelter. Nate moves the palm leaves covering the entrance and lets me inside. The layered foliage provides a nice shield from the wind and rain, but the external temperature is still almost unbearable.
Nate runs back outside, and I crawl toward the opening to see what he’s doing.
He stages various pieces of bamboo upright in the sand, positioning them to catch the rainwater.
I’m relieved to know we will be able to drink more than a few sips tomorrow.
I’m tempted to run out there with my mouth open toward the sky and catch the rainwater, the thought bringing me back to my childhood obsession with Barney.
The song once sounded like the perfect solution to rain, but right now I’d definitely take the raindrops over lemon drops and gum drops.
After setting the last of the bamboo shoots out, he runs back toward our makeshift shelter, shaking off the excess water. He has several yucca fibers and thin sticks in his hand and sets them to the side.
“I t-thought t-the w-was s-supposed to be w-warm?” I can barely get out the words as my body practically convulses.
Nate sits behind me on the mossy, leaf-lined ground, pulling me backwards until my back is lined up with his chest. He opens his legs, cradling my body between them.
I lean back, resting my head on his chest as he frantically runs his hands up and down my arms, creating friction in an attempt to keep me warm.
“It’s the rain season in South America. We’re going to have some cold nights ahead.
I need to get a fire going, and we need to find somewhere to build a safer shelter.
” He points to the small woodpile he had sitting in our makeshift shelter.
“I’m glad I thought to bring those in here earlier. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
I hear the screech of monkeys in the distance and feel a swell of fear rise up in my chest. Anything can get to us in here. We are sheltered between bamboo and leaves. One swipe of a large paw, or a big gust of wind, and our entire refuge will collapse. What would we do then? What could we do?
“How long do you think it will take for them to find us?” I ask.
Nate’s hands still rub my arms as he takes a deep shuddering breath, almost as if he is afraid to answer me.
“I think we need to start thinking about a more permanent means of survival, Pip. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I think it’s going to take time for them to find us. If…” He stops himself, clearly trying to protect me from his thoughts.
“If what? I…I can handle it.”
He takes a deep breath. “If they even look. If they suspect we crashed into the ocean, they’re probably not looking for survivors. Which means they probably aren’t looking at nearby islands or beaches. They don’t even know where ‘nearby’ is. We weren’t on the flight path they expected us to be on.”
“So…w-what do we do?”
“When they turned the plane around, they still had GPS. Meaning they were on a flight path, just not the right flight path. We crashed along a normal route. So that means planes have to fly by this area. Maybe even ships. We need to get a signal going if we want someone to know we are here. But even still, it might take some time to get noticed. We need to focus on surviving long enough for someone to find us.”
“How do we do that?” My chills finally subside enough to feel comfortable. Still, I seek Nate’s warmth as I nuzzle into his chest. I could work my way under his skin and still not feel close enough. He resumes rubbing my arms and places several kisses on the top of my head.
“We need to move inland and find something to build a more solid shelter against.”
“In-inland? How will we be seen if we aren’t near the beach? Aren’t there more animals inland? How is that safer? How would we keep a fire going?” My rapid-fire questions increase my anxiety as I think of all the potential dangers.
“We aren’t safe out in the open, Pip. There are a lot more resources we can use in the jungle to build a sturdy shelter.
One that will last. Once I find some dryer wood, I will build a fire by our shelter and a bonfire near the beach.
The bonfire is to get the attention of low-flying planes or ships. We will keep it going at all times.”
“You couldn’t get a fire started today, Nate.
How are we going to have two?” It’s getting harder to breathe, my throat feels like it’s closing.
I’m drowning. The pitter-patter of the rain on our shelter echoes around in my head, like the sound is both near and far.
“Oh my God. This is how people die in these situations. They don’t have fire… or water…or…”
Nate turns me around, forcing me onto his lap.
I wrap my legs around his waist, burying my face in his neck as I try to slow my breathing.
He holds me in his arms, rocking me back and forth the way he used to when this would happen as a teenager.
Every time my mom left town, leaving me to stay with my dad.
Panic disorder. That’s what my primary care doctor calls it. They happen less frequently, but I still deal with them. Only until now, I didn’t have Nate to help me through them.
“Shh, shh…deep breaths, baby. You’re okay. I’m here.”
“Nate, bamboo, palm leaves, sticks, rocks…”
“What?” Nate asks, confusion coating his words.
My voice wobbles as I reach out and touch Nate’s cheek.
“Nate’s cheek.” My hand slides lower. “Nate’s jaw.
” Back up and across. “Nate’s ear.” Diagonal.
“Nate’s lips.” I whisper the last one as my fingertips linger longer than necessary.
Nate finally recognizes what I’m doing, and his eyes fill with pride.
“Keep going,” he whispers gently.
“Nate’s voice, the rain, the ocean,” I whisper back, my heart rate returning to normal. He nods, encouraging me to continue. I run my nose along his jaw, grinning a little as I say, “Yucca soap.”
He smiles softly, highlighting that dimple I love so much. “What else…”
Tilting my head back, I inhale deeply. “The rain,” I say, as it pelts against our makeshift shelter.
“That’s my girl. One more, baby.”
I lean forward, pressing my mouth to his, tasting our shared breath as I lick at his bottom lip. He opens for me, and our tongues slide against each other slowly. He takes his time tasting me, as if I’m his favorite flavor.
Finally, I pull back.
“Nate,” I finish.
And I can finally breathe again.
The tingling in my hands finally subsides. Nate looks at me with so much love and compassion, it’s almost painful to endure his gaze. “You remember the five, four, three, two, one method,” I state, realizing he was helping me through the process.
He’s the one who taught me.
“Emmy still has panic attacks,” he states. “Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing…one thing you can taste.”
I look up at him beneath my eyelashes and smirk. “I didn’t have a lot of options.”
“I’m a willing sacrifice.” He winks, his smile highlighting his dimpled cheeks.
“Noted.” I laugh, feeling a lot warmer than I was seconds earlier.
After several seconds of silence, Nate leans back, palming my face. “I have something those people didn’t have,” he says, bringing us back to my comment before I had a panic attack.
“What do you have?” I ask, assuming he’s going to mention his survival skills.
“A reason.”
“A reason?” I ask, mildly confused.
“A reason to succeed. A reason to make this work. A reason to survive.”
“What’s your reason?” I whisper.
He looks me in the eyes, his intense stare showing me the truth of his next words. “The same reason I’ve always had, Pip.”
I let out a shuddering breath. “So, tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. Fire, shelter, water…” My stomach lets out the noisiest, most embarrassing rumble I’ve ever heard. Nate snorts. “And food. Time to go hunting.”
The thought of food has my stomach gnawing and twisting at the same time. “But no baby animals.”
He smiles gently. “Okay. No baby animals.” He reaches over and grabs the pile of sticks and yucca fibers he brought into the shelter.
“What’s that for?”
“Time to get to work. What do you remember about basket weaving?”