Page 59 of Wild for You
Two days have passedsince my encounter with the whales, and I was right to think it was a small calm before the storm. My back aches as I paddle my oars as rough waves crash over the raft. The constant push and pull of the turbulent ocean make me feel like I’m fighting just to stay in place.
“Come on!” I grit my teeth as another wave drenches me and everything I brought.
I don’t have much of a shelter, just a small canopy built from bamboo slats, but it helps to break up some of the pressure of the barrage of water coming at me from every side.
After giving it all the hell I can, I decide to hunker down and let mother nature do her thing. The raft’s being tossed up and down in every direction, and when a massive wave crashes against me and a piece breaks free from the bottom, I know my time left here is short.
I crawl underneath the small canopy, lying flat on my stomach, and pull out my camera for my final recording. I don’t have anything to hold it, so I do my best to steady the shot with my cold, shaking hands. I hit record.
“Listen, whoever finds this, whoever finds me, Gwenneth Pierson and I crash-landed my small plane on an island approximately two hundred kilometers from Costa Rica. Today is June 22, 2022. I’ve built a small raft that’s currently being destroyed by a storm, and I’ve accepted my fate. Gwen, if you’re watching, fuck, I hope you are. I love you so much, and I want you to know you’re the only thing keeping me going out here. The memory of your smile warms me at night when the freezing water is almost too much to bear. I want you to chase your dreams and let go of your past. Trust people, baby. But most of all, I hope you’ll trust yourself. You’re so strong, and you don’t even realize it. I love you so much. Tell everyone about us and our adventures and live your life without fear, because if you can survive the wild, you can do anything you want. This is my message in a bottle. I hope it finds its way to whoever can help.” Another crashing wave knocks the canopy clean off the raft, exposing me to the wild ocean in every sense of the word. “Goodbye, everyone. It was a hell of a ride.”
A sob escapes me as I hurry to shut off the camera and shove it into my backpack just before the final wave crashes over me, and suddenly, I’m floating. Water pulls me in every direction, and I hold onto my backpack with the tightest grip I can manage. And everything goes black.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Gwen
It’s beenthree days since I watched Jack sail away, and it feels like every minute we’re apart, a piece of my heart breaks a little more. I’ve mostly survived on oysters and coconuts, and I even found a papaya tree with two measly pieces of fruit, but I’m growing weaker, and I know I need real meat if I’m going to keep up my strength. I can see a hint of gray clouds on the horizon, and I’m afraid another big storm may be rolling in soon, so I decide today’s the day I’ll go fishing and finally make a hot meal.
Jack left me the collapsible fishing rod, and I’ve been with him enough to know the best fishing spot on the island. I’ve just got to swim to the shallow sandbar to get there. Luckily, our swimming lessons have paid off, and I’m comfortable enough to swim the short distance.
The water’s a little colder than usual, and I suck in a sharp breath as I wade deeper and deeper. Before I know it, I’m on the sandbar, casting my first line of the day.
Jack taught me to fish early in the day because some days, it takes longer than others to get a single bite, and I won’t be caught dead out here in the water when I can’t see my feet.
I have a flashback of the shark swimming around me, and I giggle despite my immense worry. God, it must’ve been a sight to see watching that bloody tampon flying through the air. I really don’t know what I was thinking. I was an entirely different person than I am now.
How long ago was that? I think back and try to count the days, but they all seem to run together. I know Jack had a mental calendar, but it’s not something I’ve had to think about. I’ve just been focusing on making it through one day at a time, but … I can’t remember having my period since then.
My heartbeat quickens as I try to count back, but it’s no use. It could’ve been years as much as I remember. I guess I’ve lost so much weight that my cycle just stopped. I can’t give it much more thought because I’m rewarded with my first bite of the day. Instantly, my worry turns to excitement as I reel in a small silver fish, just big enough to feed me for lunch and dinner.
“Score!” I scream and reel in my little lifesaver. I could stay and try to catch more, but it’s no use; the rain will come and spoil anything I try to save, and there’s no use in killing fish I won’t even be able to eat.
My stomach growls, and I can’t keep the smile off my face. I’m looking forward to a hot meal tonight, and by the size of this thing, I may even have a distended belly.
“I’ve got big plans for you, bucko.” I shove him in my net sack and cinch it shut as I make my way back to the shore. I may even use my last mango for a glaze. My mouth waters at the thought.
When I finally make it back to the shore, I start building a fire—the easy way that Jack taught me. I may have the survival skills needed to rub sticks together like a caveman now, but I found a perfectly good water bottle on the beach on my way back, and there’s no use in expending any more energy when I can use this as a magnifying glass.
I use an emergency cotton ball Jack left me and a piece of my favorite lipstick—who knew lipstick was such a hot commodity in a survival situation—and line my water bottle up to the sun’s sparing rays. It takes longer than usual to finally get a flame due to the clouds rolling in, but when I see the ember come to life, I know I’ve done it.
I pump my fist in the air and blow my tiny kindle as I watch it grow to a true flame. And then I get to work, stacking the wood pieces we prepared ahead of time, and before I know it, my fish is sizzling above the open flame.
I’ve come so far and learned so much from our short time on this island. It seems mother nature has taught me far more about trust and faith than any lesson learned through school or work. My heart swells with pride when I think about all I’ve done to keep myself alive since Jack left. I’m capable of so much more than I ever thought possible. It’s exhausting working from sun up to sun down, especially all alone, but somehow, I’ve managed to keep my water supply full, fish, and even maintain a fire all by myself. I know Jack would be proud of me, and I only wish he could see me thriving out here and know how much his survival lessons actually taught me. I don’t know if he realizes how much of an impact his videos have, and if I live to see him again, it’ll be the first thing I tell him.
I think of Jack floating out there on his dilapidated raft, eating dried fish, and my heart sinks with worry, but I immediately redirect my thoughts. I’ll never survive if I’m worrying about him. Jack would want me to focus on myself. That’s the only way we both walk away from this.
I cook the fish until it’s golden brown and even add the mango for an extra treat. It’s no five-star dining experience, but when I taste the hot, juicy fish, I can’t keep my eyes from rolling back in my head in ecstasy. I finish the entire portion; leftovers be damned. I’d rather eat coconut for dinner than not enjoy this while it’s piping hot and fresh.
When I’m finished with my meal, I lean my back on a tree and take in the beautiful scene before me. A small gust of wind brushes a strand of hair from my face like a whisper of peace. There’s no doubt in my mind mother nature is female. How else can you explain how the same wind can be so delicate in one moment and destructive the very next. She's a powerful woman capable of tenderness and peace, but when she’s angry, she doesn’t hold back her wrath.
A small smirk pulls at my lips. I suppose we both have that in common.
* * *
A strong gustof wind whips my hair over my face, waking me from my deep slumber. I look around and notice the sun’s beginning to set. I must’ve passed out from pure exhaustion. How long was I asleep? I push myself up to stand, heading back to my cavern, when my stomach begins to churn in disgust. Suddenly, the thought of the delicious mango and fish I feasted on earlier sounds like the most repulsive thing in the world. I can’t make it five steps before I’m doubled over, retching every last bite into a nearby bush. My body shakes as I forcefully heave the entire contents of my stomach, and I can’t help the small whimper that follows. Another wave of nausea courses through me, and I curl into myself and cry.
As if things can’t get any worse, I can add food poisoning to my long list of misery. I somehow manage to gain enough strength to get up and make my way back to the small hell hole I now call home.
