Page 61 of Wild for You
Think, Gwen. What would Jack do right now?
The only thing that comes to mind is the old episodes ofBaywatchmy dad used to watch when I was a kid. I don’t know anything about CPR, but I remember something about pumping their chest and breathing into their mouth.
I do my best to mimic theBaywatchbabe’s movements, though I’m sure my version isn’t nearly as sexy, and I use all my strength to pump his chest. I have no idea how many times I need to do it, so I alternate breathing into his mouth when my arms get tired.
Finally, after three or four tries, Jack turns his head and coughs up seawater.
“Thank God!” I throw myself on his freezing body and kiss him viciously. “I thought you were dead!” I sob into his neck, and when his hand comes up to my face, I pull away.
“Gwen?” he says as he looks around, confusion pulling at his eyes. “Where am I? How did you find me?”
“I saw you from the cliff. I thought you were dead,” I sob, realizing I’m probably not being very helpful, but I’ve been through a lot today, and I’m just so happy he’s alive.
He winces at my touch, and that’s when I notice his leg. I gag when I see a broken white bone protruding from the skin.
“Oh shit.” I cover my mouth and jump to my feet, so I don’t vomit on his wound—that can’t be sanitary.
He slowly maneuvers himself to a sitting position, looking around like he’s been abducted by aliens. “We’re still here. We’re on the island?” His words come out like a question.
“Yeah,” I say as I wipe the bile from my mouth with the back of my arm. “I think we’re going to be here for a very long time.”
Jack collapses back down in defeat.
“Let me grab you some water,” I say, leaving him to his thoughts, so thankful he’s alive. I don’t even care that the plan failed.
* * *
“I still can’t believeyou’re here.” I hand Jack the bottle of warm water. He reaches with his left hand and takes the water from me, guzzling it down like he didn’t just vomit an entire pool of it. “That looks really bad,” I say, gesturing to his leg.
He sits up on his elbows to take another peek and lays back down. “Fuck!”
“Does it hurt? I could get you a coconut or—”
“We don’t have the medical supplies to treat this. We drank what was left of the booze—”
“It’s going to be ok,” I try to reassure him, but I’m freaking out, too. He’s lying on the beach after I just revived him. A piece of white bone protruding from his shin … My basic medical knowledge from watchingGrey’s Anatomytells me it’s a compound fracture. And based on how he flinched when I moved him, I think he may have a broken collarbone, too.
“It’s fine. Just come here.” He reaches for me, and I all but dive into his arms. I’ve never been so scared in my life. He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry, baby. I failed us.”
“You didn’t fail us, Jack,” I assure him, combing my hands through his long wet strands. “We’re together, and that’s all that matters.”
“I won’t survive with this wound. It’ll never heal right as it is. I won’t be able to walk on it ever again, and that’s if it doesn’t get infected and fester.”
“Stop talking. Just hold me, and let’s enjoy this moment while we can, okay?”
He looks at me, and his eyes widen as he takes in my emaciated body. “Baby, what the hell happened? You look awful. Have you not been eating?”
“Oh, I think I have some kind of parasite or something. It’s nothing compared to this.” I gesture at his whole body. “Really, Jack, don’t worry about me.” I stand up and offer him my hand. “Let’s get you out of this sun. I’ve got one more papaya and the last of the fish-jerky. I can make a fire, and you can tell me all about your adventure.”
Tears glisten in his eyes, and he offers me his hand. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Using all my strength, I help him up to stand and let him lean on me as a crutch as I lead him to our old campsite. It’s bare of any trace of the time we spent there except for a dug-out pit for our fires.
I show off my master fire-building skills, and even though I know he’s writhing in pain, he forces a smile, telling me all about his adventures at sea, petting blue whales, and living to tell about it.
We laugh because it’s all we can do to keep from crying. “I guess I can start calling you Ishmael now.”
“If you don’t call me Ishmael, what’s the fucking point in even meeting a whale?”
