Page 66 of Lost Paradise

“Guaranteed he’ll be skipping back like a happy sailor to feed his Greek belly as soon as he smells the fish cooking over the fire,” Byron says with a snigger.

"Each of you grab a spear," Mr. Coldwell instructs, then addresses me, "Stick close to Eve. If there's trouble, you get her outof harm's way. Even if you need to toss her over the shoulder, your priority is to get her to safety."

“I heard that, jerk,” Eve snaps, her eyes flashing with defiance at him and then looking at me glaring, "Try tossing me over your shoulder, and this spear will find its way to your balls."

The stern gaze Mr. Coldwell gives me only reinforces the importance of his words. I nod, fully comprehending my role. No one’s going to challenge Eve, but she isn’t just anyone; she's unique, and it's our collective responsibility to shield her from any harm that may come her way.

Knowing there’s an indigenous tribe sharing the island who made it clear they have no intention of inviting us for tea only emphasizes that this island is not safe to go wandering around on your own.

Byron leads the pack to the border, and I remain at the end of the group as we trek our way through the dense undergrowth of the jungle. The further we go, the stifling heat and oppressive humidity weigh heavily upon us, clinging to our skin like a suffocating blanket.

I left my leather jacket behind back at camp, a choice I now appreciate as I trudge through, but the sweltering heat penetrates even the thin fabric of my black t-shirt, causing beads of sweat to trickle relentlessly down my spine.

This jungle is a fucking labyrinth of all sorts, and we push ourselves farther. Mr. Coldwell suddenly jolts and then freezes, holding up his hand for us to halt.

“Shit,” I hear Zane mutter and were suddenly shocked into high alert as a sinewy form slithers into our path.

The snake, sleek and menacing, coils itself defensively, its scales glistening in the speckled sunlight filtering through the dense trees above. Instinctively, a wave of fear ripples through the entire group, and there’s a sharp intake of breath from Eve as soon as she spots it.

But amidst the unease, I find myself strangely drawn to the creature before us. There’s this primal connection that pulses through me, an inexplicable bond that seems to transcend the fear gripping the others. I’m almost sure it’s a python, its powerful body poised for battle.

"Pythons stick close to their eggs. Most likely, that’s why she’s acting hostile; probably laid them recently close by," Byron remarks, his voice cutting through the tension. "But we're on a tropical island; they shouldn't be here.” There’s an edge of disbelief in his voice.

He’s right; the snake has no business on such a tropical island. How the fuck did it get here?

“Stick that fact right up there with the invisible border,” Eve says. “What should we do about the snake?”

“Well, the snake could make a nice meaty dinner,” Mr. Coldwell suggests. “But if she’s just laid eggs, we should leave her be.”

“If she’s laid eggs, there will be more of them,” Eve retorts. “We don’t have the necessary medicines if one of us gets bitten.”

“We are not going to kill her and go looking for the eggs,” he replies firmly. “We’ll just have to learn to live together.”

“You’re very naïve,” she snaps. “It’s a predator, not a rabbit. It doesn’t just live with humans harmoniously.”

“Eve,” Mr. Coldwell says sharply and gives her a look that begs her to shut up.

“We’ll veer off the path and seek an alternative route that doesn’t interrupt the python,” he says, addressing the entire group and avoiding landing his eyes on Eve.

I think calling him naïve hit a sensitive spot on his tits.

Regardless, and despite Eve’s frustration regarding Mr. Coldwell’s decision, we press on in silence.

“Do you think the cannibals got Astro? It’s unusual he’d be gone this long,” Eve asks, breaking the silence.

“I say good riddance to the bastard,” Zane snides.

“Hopefully, they eat his arrogant ego too,” Byron says.

“If he’s seen them before, he knows where they are. I doubt he would risk venturing near them alone,” Mr. Coldwell says. “I counted the spears. He didn’t take any. Astro might be a cocky bastard, but he isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t venture into dangerous territory unarmed.”

“We’re here,” Byron says, pointing at the palm leaves on the ground marked as an X style. I see three more rows ahead and some going across each other in rows.

“Past that last row,” Eve explains, “Is cannibal territory. They simply stood on that side, angry and waving their spears at us as if wanting to kill us but couldn’t.”

“So odd,” Zane says, following the border, Byron put down, “Do you think this divides the entireisland?”

“But what is it that divides the island?” Mr. Coldwell says, looking eastwards. Then, as if he’s suddenly pulled by something, he begins running.

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