Page 60 of Wild for You
I climb over the jagged rocks into my little cavern and cry myself to sleep.
Jack, please hurry. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Gwen
I roll over,dislodge the loose rock from the small of my back, and curl into a ball on my side as another wave of nausea rocks through me. The fucking birds are at it again, squawking mockingly, so happy to be alive they have to scream about it.
I’m miserable. I’ve been puking for three days straight—ever since I ate that fish—and you don’t see me screaming it out to the whole island. No, I keep my quiet sobs to myself.
Maybe I should start waking them up and see how they like it? If I had the strength, I’d murder every bird on this island just so that one doesn’t find its mate. It’s only fair if I can’t have mine; I shouldn’t have to listen to him calling for his.
I climb out of my cavern and vomit near the closest tree. “I hope you like the smell of vomit and it throws off all your bird-pheromones!” I scream.
I feel like I’m in that movieGroundhog Day, only it’s ten times more miserable because I don’t have the love of my life with me. He’s out there, somewhere, fighting for our survival, and I’m stuck here hanging onto life by a thread. How long does food poisoning last, anyway? Fuck, I hope it’s not salmonella or some bacterial infection that’ll make me shit myself to death. What a horrible way to die, especially after all I’ve been through.
I gargle some fresh water I prepared last night, then spit it out by my feet before taking a real sip. At least the well has kept enough water for me, and I’ve collected enough plastic water bottles that I can boil it ahead of time. It’s probably the only reason I’m still alive right now—that and the coconuts.
My fragile limbs carry me to the beach, where I write a new message in the sand. It’s become a game I play. Every day, I write another obscure message on the off chance an aircraft will fly over, see it, and rescue me. Today’s message reads:
FUCK BIRDS PLS HELP
I’m exhausted after writing the giant letters, so I plant my butt in the sand and breath in the fresh island air.
It’s actually sunny today, which is a nice change from the weather lately. The warm sun heats my skin, and for a moment, it feels amazing, like a soothing balm to my aching muscles. But then a hot flash sends a wave of heat through my core, and I have to jump in the water to cool down. That’s been happening a lot more lately; it must be a side effect of the food poisoning.
After a quick swim, I eat a coconut for breakfast and make my way up to the cliff for a better view.
It’s a hard climb, not something I do too often, but today, I’m feeling nostalgic about the night Jack and I made love on our first date. My muscles are burning by the time I reach the top, and I’m panting for air, but the view is so worth it. There’s no trace of the elaborate palm leaves lining the ground or anything for that matter, but the vision of us lying together will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life—no matter how long that turns out to be.
I fall to my knees and lay my head on the cold stone, letting the rocky floor cool me. Luckily, the nausea seems to have subsided, so I eat a small bit of the jerky that Jack left me for emergencies. I’d say this is an emergency. I don’t know how much more of it I can take, so I may as well enjoy the view.
The bright blue water sparkles in the distance like a sapphire, and if I didn’t know Jack was out there fighting for his life, I might even say it looks peaceful. But I’ve seen the destruction the sea can cause when the storms come through, and there’s nothing peaceful about the ocean. It’s just as scary as the day we landed. Hell, maybe even scarier now that I know what she’s capable of.
I squint my eyes as the sun’s glare seems to shine directly into my retinas. I’ve never been up here in the bright afternoon sun, but something dark catches my eye, a contrast against the blues and golds of the ocean. Is it another shark? I scoot closer to the cliff's edge, and my stomach flutters when I look down. I remember that jump. I never felt so alive and free than when I held Jack’s hand and leaped from this cliff. The dark object isn’t moving, and it’s farther out than I’ve ever been, past the sandbar even.
What is it?I cover my eyes with my hand in an attempt to see farther out when I notice something that looks familiar.
It can’t be.
I’d recognize that backpack anywhere. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m jumping off the cliff, slightly to the right, just as Jack and I did all that time ago.
My body falls faster this time around, maybe because I’m alone or just because my adrenaline’s flooding my system. The water doesn’t feel cold when I land. It’s like I’m numb to it.
I throw my arms over my head one at a time, pumping my legs with every ounce of energy I have as I fight my way against the current. I’ve got one thing on my mind, and my instincts take over before I can overthink the distance I’m swimming. I just pray there’s still a chance he’s alive because he hasn’t moved a limb.
Salty water burns my eyes, and as I propel myself past the sandbar into the deepest water I’ve ever swam in, I’m not afraid. Not of drowning—or sharks—anyway. The only thing I have on my mind is getting Jack. If he’s dead, there won’t be a reason to fight anymore, and I know I’ll succumb to the same fate, let the sea take me out of my misery just as it did for him.
“Jack!” I scream as water rushes into my mouth. I’m a choking and gurgling mess, and his body is cold. “Jack!” I shake him, but he doesn’t move, just floats like a lifeless shell of himself.
“No, God, no!” I scream, grabbing the backpack's straps when I realize it’s floating. It’s a floatation device!
Of course, it is. Jack’s such a survival nerd. Of course, he’d carry something so multifunctional. I slide my fingers to the side of his neck and gasp when I feel a faint pulse.
I have to check again on the other side because I’m afraid my weakened state is playing tricks on me, but when I grab his wrist and feel it, I latch myself on to him and kick my legs as hard as I can, pushing him in front of me as his backpack keeps us both afloat.
Now that I have him in my arms, time seems to stand still, and the distance back to the beach seems to have multiplied. When I finally make it to shore, I drag him up on the beach by the pack and lay him on his back.
