Chapter Twenty-Three
I spin in a circle, screaming to get their attention before I can even spot the damn thing. The sound of the blades slicing through the air gets louder by the second, but I don’t see it anywhere over the ocean or down either stretch of beach.
I run toward the water, trying to see over the trees and the helicopter parts the canopy and flies straight over me.
It continues out toward the sunset and I wave my hands over my head, trying to flag them down.
I scream for Jackson at the top of my lungs, and relief has me laughing between breaths.
Oh my god, it’s over. They found us. It’s really over.
We’re going home!
Jackson races from the trees. “Hannah! What’s wrong?”
I point at the sky and sob, “They found us!”
But when I turn to show him, the helicopter vanishes into thin air.
The answering silence is deafening. I stare at the sky like whatever black hole swallowed our impending rescue will spit it back to us, but it doesn’t happen.
The only thing above our heads is a smattering of pink clouds.
“But…it was right there,” I say, my voice hoarse from yelling.
“What was?”
I gesture helplessly at the empty sky. “A helicopter…”
I rip my gaze from the clouds, only to find him staring at me like I’ve grown a third eye. The pity on his face nearly breaks me. The reality of what just happened settles in, and I sink to the sand. Jackson drops with me. We kneel in the surf at the water’s edge, and I begin to shake.
“There was no helicopter?” I guess.
“No.”
It was a hallucination.
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest. Tears stream down my face.
Jackson wraps his arms around me, and I let my forehead fall against his chest.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice soothing. “You’re exhausted, you’re dehydrated, and you’ve barely eaten. That’s bound to catch up with you in unexpected ways.”
He’s right. We’re isolated, sunburnt, overheated, beat-up, and we’re drinking from a stream of what could turn out to be contaminated water.
I’m surprised it took this long to start seeing things, but it’s no less terrifying.
I replay the helicopter vanishing into thin air again and again on repeat while Jackson rubs circles on my back.
I swear I could feel the wind it displaced when it flew over my head.
Feel the sand it scattered prickle at my legs.
It was so real that if it hadn’t vanished, there’s nothing he could have told me to convince me it wasn’t there.
“It’ll be okay,” he says, holding me tighter. “You’re going to be okay. Someone will see the smoke from your fire. You have to hang on a bit longer.”
I nod and let him lead me back to the raft, but I can’t help but wonder how I’m supposed to get us home if I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s all in my head.
***
I don’t sleep.
Again.
Jackson watches me closely the rest of the day.
Everywhere I go—into the trees for more firewood, searching for another fruit tree, forcing Emmy to eat all three of those guavas, watching the sun set—he’s right beside me with a worried little fissure between his eyebrows.
When I can’t take the scrutiny anymore, I lie down in the sand between the fire and the raft and pretend to sleep.
Eventually I hear him get up, and when I lift my head I find I’m blissfully alone.
I peek into the raft, and he’s wrapped around his sister like a watchdog.
I want to climb in with them, but I know I won’t be able to sleep.
Instead I sit sentry in front of the fire, making sure it doesn’t go out again.
Might as well be somewhat productive while I spiral.
The nonexistent helicopter rattled the hell out of me.
Probably more than it should have, if I’m being honest with myself.
Hallucinations in survival situations are the brain’s reaction to stress, and there’s been no lack of stress these last few days, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something important.
It’s making me restless, jumpy. Sleep would probably help, but I’m too full of adrenaline and worst-case scenarios.
I scrub my grimy hands down my face and close my eyes.
I lectured Jackson about keeping his cool in the wake of Emmy’s seizure, and here I am, falling apart over an imaginary helicopter.
I need to get a grip.
The fire lets out a big crack, and I startle in surprise. I scoot back to keep the embers off the tops of my feet, and something moves in the corner of my vision.
I whip around and wait, but nothing moves within the trees. I pinch the bridge of my nose, frustrated with how jumpy I am. I just told myself I couldn’t lose it, and five seconds later my mind starts playing tricks ag—
A branch snaps behind me.
I’m on my feet in a flash and sprint to the other side of the fire. I scan the trees, and this time, hear something moving in the darkness. Back and forth. Back and forth. The same branches move, the same thumps on the forest floor.
“Jackson,” I whisper.
There’s no response from the raft.
“Jackson.”
Silence.
The figure in the trees paces back and forth again, and I narrow my eyes. There’s no way that’s a jungle predator. A panther doesn’t stomp around. They’re stealthy. I’d probably be half eaten before I even knew a true predator was out there.
Whatever’s in the trees is watching.
Or…waiting?
I back around the other side of the raft and creep down the shore until I’m out of the firelight’s reach.
Then I sprint as quietly as possible up to the trees near the path I’ve been taking to get to the stream and double back toward the campsite in the shadows.
Maybe whatever’s in there will creep out when it doesn’t see anyone by the fire, and I’ll finally solve the riddle of what the hell made off with our canned foods.
Are there jungle rodents? It sounds big. Maybe a monkey? A monkey definitely could have made off with my bag.
I hide behind a palm tree, listening carefully. The pacing stops. It’s quiet for so long that I begin to wonder if this is another helicopter situation. Did I also hallucinate something in the trees?
The silence stretches on until I’m ready to abandon my stupid plan and stalk back to the fire when a figure slithers out of the shadows. Their back is to me, but it’s definitely not a panther or a monkey.
It’s a man.
The firelight glints off the bare skin of his torso, but his face is all shadow as he moves closer to Emmy and Jackson in the raft. Before I can scream a warning, there are three quick popping sounds as he jabs something into the raft.
“Hey!” I shout, sprinting from the trees.
The man jumps and hauls ass across the beach, kicking a wall of sand at the fire as he passes. I’m hot on his heels, shouting for him to stop. He dives back into the jungle.
I’m only about ten feet behind him, and yet somehow, when I crash into the trees a moment later, everything is silent. I stand in a patch of palm trees, turning in a slow circle. The jungle is almost scary silent. Even the bugs don’t make a sound. It’s like…
He vanished into thin air.
Except this time, I know it’s not all in my head. He was considerate enough to leave me with ample proof. Part of the fire is dark where the sand extinguished it. There are footprints by the slowly deflating raft full of fresh punctures.
No, this wasn’t a hallucination. We’re not alone on this beach.
I stand there listening for any sign of him, but the only sound I hear is Jackson fumbling with the deflating raft and frantically shouting my name. I back out of the trees, so he doesn’t freak out when he can’t find me, but I keep my gaze trained on the jungle.
“You scared the hell out of me!” he says when I reach the light of the fire. “I heard you yell—and what the fuck happened to the raft?”
He’s practically shouting across our camp, and I shush him. “There’s someone here.”
He’s at my side in an instant, watching the trees as closely as I am. “Are you sure?”
“I saw him. He stabbed the raft with something and kicked sand at the fire.”
Jackson shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone deflate the raft? That seems so…benign. If someone wanted to hurt one of us, Emmy and I were sleeping right there.”
I had the same thought. “I’m telling you what I saw. The moment I was out of sight, he slithered out like a little rat.”
“Who was it? Who’d even be out this far? We haven’t seen a soul.”
“It would have to be a local, right? I don’t know why a local would want to steal our food and destroy our shelter though.”
Sounds more like Ben, a little voice in the back of my head whispers. But that’s impossible. He got washed overboard without a life vest. In the middle of a storm. While we were any number of miles from land. There’s no way it could be him.
Jackson frowns, and places a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t punch me for saying this, okay?”
“I make no promises. I already don’t like whatever you’re about to say.”
“Is there any chance you dreamed it? Maybe kicked the sand at the fire yourself before you woke up all the way?”
I smack his hand off my shoulder. “Oh for sure. I sleep-stabbed the raft too. Better watch out, you’re probably next.”
He laughs and crushes me to his chest. “Well, that sucks. It would be really great if you dreamed it.”
“Why?”
“Because then we wouldn’t have another thing to worry about.”
Little by little, the noises in the forest pick up again, and my skin begins to crawl. All the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and though I don’t hear any more pacing, I can’t shake the feeling that whoever that was, is still out there.
Watching.