Page 109 of Lost Paradise

We sit beside the ongoing fire that we never allow to die out, located in the center area of the camp. It’s midday by the time we finish recounting our adventures to Jack and Foster, and they absorb every detail and the conclusions about what we think the facility wasused for. Byron explained that he wanted to examine some of the documents he took in the hope that they would give them some answers, but I’m not sure why we need to know what kind of research they were conducting here on the island. It’s hardly likely after thirty-plus years, the Russians are returning to collect or revert the mess they made on the natives.

The bags of supplies lay open nearby, and we explain what we collected that could be of use to us here.

Foster leans back, his brow furrowed in thought.

"We should return to the facility tomorrow and have a look at the generator," he says after a moment of silence.

Byron nods, his face still showing traces of exhaustion but also a hint of determination. "We found enough oil to possibly make adequate fuel that could feed a motor for an hour or so. It might be enough to get it running, at least temporarily."

Foster's eyes narrow as he considers the options. He glances at the bright blue sky, now painted with several white clouds. "We should start out at the crack of dawn," he decides, his voice firm, and stands up. We all follow him to get up. Jack joins Zane and Byron in unpacking the bags.

The thought of another grueling trek through the jungle makes my heart sink. "I don’t want to make the trip again," I say quietly, unable to hide the weariness in my voice.

Foster’s gaze softens as he looks at me. "I understand," he says gently. "I'll take Astro with me. It'll keep him out of your hair."

“I can handle Astro,” I say defensively.

“I know you can, darling. I just don’t need you killing him just yet. I could do with the extra muscle to carry the generator back.” He winks at me and focuses his attention on the others.

He then turns to Byron and Jack. "I'll need both of you with me tomorrow."

Zane shifts slightly, drawing Foster's attention. "Zane, stay back and help Eve with things here."

An unspoken understanding passes between Zane and Foster. Zane nods subtly, acknowledging his silent mission to protect me. I roll my eyes but remain silent.

Foster claps a hand on Zane's shoulder, a gesture of both trust and solidarity. "Make sure everything runs smoothly here. Above all keep her safe."

Zanenods again, his eyes meeting Foster's with a determined glint. "You can count on me."

I catch Zane's eye and manage a small, grateful smile.

As the guys continue to unpack, Zane pulls out some of the soap and plastic razors we picked up and hands one to Foster and Jack. Both men break into wide grins, their eyes lighting up with genuine happiness.

"Well, would you look at that," Foster says, scratching his dark, heavy beard stubble. "I'm happy to finally get a clean face."

Jack nods, a similar excitement crossing his face as he rubs his own rough jawline. "Feels like forever since I had a proper shave."

I can't help but chuckle at their enthusiasm. "You know," I say with a playful smirk, "I find all four of you pretty sexy with facial hair."

Foster and Jack exchange amused glances. "Is that so?" Foster asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely," I continue, leaning against a nearby tree. "But it does tickle a little when you get your faces between my thighs and into my pussy."

Byron and Zane, who are nearby and within earshot, pause their unpacking to snicker. Zane shoots me a mischievous look. "Guess we’ll have to find a balance between rugged and smooth, then."

Foster's grin widens as he looks at me, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, we'll see if we can make things a bit more comfortable for you, then."

Jack laughs, clapping Foster on the back. "I suppose a clean shave wouldn't hurt every now and then."

“Hmmm,” Foster tosses the soap and razor next to his stuff and comes over to me. “A stubble requires considerable care to keep it at a certain length. But if you want I can maintain one when we are rescued, and I have a decent razor.”

His words make me smile, but a flood of doubts rushes through my mind.

Rescue?

It feels like a distant dream, a fragile hope that we cling to in the face of our harsh reality. I think about what will happen when we get back to civilization—if we get back.

What will become of us, of this strange and intense bond we've formed out here? My relationshipwith the four men is tangled and complex, built on necessity and genuine affection, but what happens when we return to the real world?

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