7. Paige
I wipe away the tears, feeling a flush of embarrassment burn hot on my cheeks. Crying has never been my style, and to break down like this in front of Travis, of all people, is humiliating. I quickly pull myself together, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders, as if the simple act of standing tall can erase the vulnerability I”ve just revealed.
”Where are we?” I demand, my voice firm and steady despite the lingering traces of emotion. ”What do we do now?”
Travis meets my gaze, his expression unreadable. ”I put out a mayday,” he replies, his voice calm and measured. ”Someone will be by soon. We just have to sit tight.”
Something in his voice makes me feel like there is more to the story. “Sit tight?” I ask. “What does soon mean?”
“I put out the mayday when the first engine died,” he explains. “But I didn’t have any instruments and have no idea how far we flew. I have a general idea of the direction, but I can’t say for sure.”
“Explain it to me like I’m not a pilot,” I snap.
He takes a deep breath. “Basically, our last coordinates are anywhere from forty to sixty miles away from where we are right now, assuming I was flying in a straight line.”
“Okay, so they fly around and look for us, right?”
“Yes, but it’s not that easy. I would guesstimate they’ll need to search an area of about ten-thousand square miles.”
I feel a surge of horror washing over me. It’s a strange calm that washes over me. “What?” I repeat.
“It’s going to take longer than a couple of hours,” he says. “We need to sit tight. There’s not much else we can do.”
The thought of sitting idly by, waiting for rescue makes me crazy. Sitting tight isn”t something I know how to do. I”ve spent my entire life forging ahead, taking charge, and making things happen. The idea of being at the mercy of someone else”s timetable is utterly galling.
”How long is ”soon”?” I demand, my voice bordering on hysteria. ”I can”t just sit here and wait. I need to do something.”
Travis”s expression remains impassive. ”It”s going to be a while,” he says simply, his tone infuriatingly calm. ”You better get comfortable.”
I bristle at his nonchalant attitude, the urge to lash out rising within me like a tidal wave. But before I can give voice to my anger, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing alone on the shore.
I watch him go, frustration simmering beneath the surface. What does he know that I don”t? Is he hiding something from me, or is he simply as clueless as I am?
”Are we in the Hawaiian Islands?” I call after him, my voice tinged with desperation.
He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the horizon. ”No,” he replies. ”It”s likely privately owned or just a blip in the middle of the ocean. Some of these little blips disappear with high tide.”
Panic surges through me at the thought of being stranded on a disappearing island, at the mercy of the unforgiving sea. ”What happens then?” I demand, my voice rising with fear.
Travis turns to face me, his expression unreadable. ”I don”t know,” he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty. ”We’re going to have to wait and see.”
I trudge after him, the absurdity of my situation hitting me like a ton of bricks. Here I am, stranded on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean, wearing a designer dress. My toes sink into the sand. That’s when I remember I lost my shoes.
“You brought your bag?” I ask, suddenly furious.
“I used my bag to grab what I could from the pantry.”
“What about my suitcase?”
He gives me a dry look. “Your suitcase weighed about a hundred pounds. I thought food and water were more practical. I couldn’t make the swim back with your suitcase. I put it on top of the fuselage. Hopefully, it will wash ashore. The tide is coming in.”
My mouth drops open. “My suitcase is just out there floating around? What if it doesn’t come ashore?”
He turns to look at me. That’s the first time I realize he’s shirtless. I notice the tattoo over his heart and some kind of tribal band around his upper left arm. There’s another one in Chinese letters trailing down his ribcage.
“Lady, I’m not sure if you’re paying attention, but we just survived a crash that should have killed us. You’re alive and in one piece. You don’t have more than a few scratches on you. I would think your designer shoes and clothes and God knows what else in your suitcase would be the least of your worries. Maybe you should thank me for keeping your sweet ass alive.”
I flinch at his words, but suddenly I realize how ridiculous I sound. He’s right. My Louboutins and Gucci dress don’t matter. What am I going to do, put on a designer dress while I build a hut to live in? While I eat a coconut?
“Fine,” I say. “What do we do?”
He runs his hand over his face, drawing my attention to the jagged cut on his forehead. “We should probably build a fire. It’s warm now, but it’s likely to get cold when the sun goes down.”
Once again, panic washes over me. “You think we’re going to be here overnight?”
“I think we have a couple of hours before sundown and it’s very likely,” he nods.
“How are you going to start a fire?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Any chance you have a lighter in that purse?”
My first reaction is to say no. That’s what I always say.
He smirks and holds out his hand. “Trust me, babe, I pegged you for a closet smoker the moment I laid eyes on you. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I don’t smoke,” I snap.
“Whatever you say.”
“I don’t.”
I pull my purse away from my body. I don’t know why I’m carrying it cross body. I highly doubt I’m going to be the victim of a pickpocket. It’s a habit. I fish around in my purse, pulling out the lighter I keep stashed in a zipped pocket.
“Thank you,” he says and took it from me.
“I don’t really smoke,” I tell him. “Sometimes, if it’s been a particularly difficult day, I might take a drag or two. Trust me, I’m extremely healthy. I would never let myself ruin my lungs.”
“I don’t care,” he mutters as he tries to get the thing to spark.
“It’s not going to work,” I tell him, feeling the familiar panic bubbling up again. “It got soaked.”
He smiles at me. “Trust me, I’ve rescued more than one soaked lighter.”
I have no idea what that means. I look up and down at the very small beach. I don’t know what I’m looking for. It’s not like I’m going to find a boat, although that would be nice.
“What do I do?” I ask him, feeling lost.
He looks at me and for the first time I see understanding. We’re both stuck in this situation.
“Why don’t you get my bag,” he says. “We need to drink some water. We both took in a lot of oceanwater and are going to be dehydrated soon. I don’t know how many bottles I grabbed, three or four. Maybe more.”
I was grateful to have something to do. “Okay.”
I walk over to where his bag lies half-buried in the sand, the waves lapping at its edges. It’s a simple black backpack, slightly worn but sturdy. I unzip it and find several water bottles. There are bags of peanuts, a few bags of chips, candy, and dried fruit. It’s not exactly gourmet, but it’s food. That’s when I realize just how desperate the situation is. A bag of peanuts might be the last meal I ever have.
I grab a couple of water bottles and return to him, handing one over. As he unscrews the cap and takes a long drink, I do the same, feeling the cool water soothing my parched throat.
“We should ration these,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
I nod, realizing that our situation is more serious than I initially thought. We were stranded on a deserted island with no idea if anyone knew where we were or if they would come looking for us. The gravity of our circumstances weighs heavily on me as I watch him.
“What are you doing now?” I ask.
“We need to collect some twigs, branches, grass,” he says. “Anything dry.”
I look around, wondering where to start. “Okay.”
“I’m going to go a little deeper into the brush and find somewhere to set up camp.”
“Camp?” The word is barely a whisper.
He puts a hand on my arm. “Paige, I know this is hard to accept, but there is a very real possibility we’re going to be here tonight. I’d like to have a fire. It will keep us warm and keep bugs at bay.”
I feel fresh tears spring to my eyes. “Okay. Tinder.”
He smiles. “Yes, tinder.”
As he disappears into the brush, I followed his instructions and began gathering twigs and dry leaves. My hands shook as I worked, the reality of our situation sinking in deeper with each passing moment. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the beach.
After a while, I heard him calling for me, his voice muffled by the dense foliage. I made my way toward the sound and found him kneeling in a small clearing, surrounded by a ring of rocks.
“I found a spot,” he said, looking up at me with a reassuring smile.
Together, we built a small fire pit in the center of the rocks and carefully arranged the gathered twigs and dry leaves inside. With a sense of urgency, we worked in tandem to start the fire, the flickering flames casting a warm glow on our faces as the sun continued its descent towards the horizon.
As the fire crackles and grows, I did get some comfort. I look over at him and watch as he gently blows. This is why he insisted on the fire. He knows the warmth provides more than just heat. It’s about to get very dark. We’re in the middle of nowhere. No streetlights. No porch lights. It’s going to be black as tar. The fire was going to help ward off more than bugs. I wasn’t afraid of the dark, but this was a little different than sitting in my apartment in the middle of the night.
“Sit here,” he says. “I’m going to get the bag. Keep adding sticks. Nothing too big. Just enough to keep it going. The bigger the fire, the more fuel we’re going to need to keep it going.”
I nod, understanding what he wanted. “I will.”
After he leaves, I can hear every little noise. Every sound is amplified. I wonder if there’s any chance there are wild animals on this little island. I don’t even know how big the island is. What if there’s a posh resort just on the other side? We’re on one of the many outlying islands. Hope swells at the thought of a spa being just a short walk away. Why are we assuming this is our only option?
When Travis comes back, I have to ask him. In the meantime, I rub my arms. I wish I hadn’t taken off my jacket. I grab my bottle of water and take a drink before I remember I need to ration it.