Page 101 of Wrecked
I open the door to our little haven and get smacked in the face with the bright sunlight. I squint for a few seconds, letting my eyes adjust, and then head down the path toward the beach.
The first few weeks we spent here, Nate and I went everywhere together. He didn’t feel safe letting me wander on my own. As time went on, we realized we would get more accomplished if we split up. He spent weeks carving out a clear trail to the beach, river, caves, and all of our favorite foraging spots. It was his way of ensuring I never got lost. The hollowed paths also deter larger species that rely on the bush to hunt. Now, they tend to avoid setting up shop in our little corner of the jungle. Even so, I never leave camp without a sharpened spear and the flare gun that washed ashore inside the lockbox from the cockpit.
I close the door to our shelter—a project Nate is especiallyproud of—and follow the trail to the beach. It took us about two weeks to secure our living space, but the end result has been nothing short of amazing.
We mixed dirt and sand to create thick mortar for our rock walls, sealing the tiny holes and insulating the small space to keep it warm. The smooth stone looks even better than the drywall in my childhood home. We used nail files to help smooth out our cement concoction and ensure we covered all the small nooks and crevices.
After that, we dug out the muddy terrain and fashioned our flooring by shaving down bamboo shoots and tying them together with the yucca fibers. Large palm leaves soften the ground beneath our feet and retain more of the warmth from the fire. We crafted a fire-pit stove at the rear of our shelter, designing a stone wall and flooring so that the flames don’t settle into the cemented rock. We used a hollow log to filter the smoke out of our shelter, creating a small crown at the top of our structure and using the suitcase fabric to ensure proper ventilation. The smoke releases through the fabric, but we are still protected from the elements.
The internal structure is wide and has a tall rock ceiling, but the overhanging cliff dips low and narrow. That was beneficial when constructing the door to our refuge. Nate used the metal from the plane as the main component for the door. He tunneled a large log and secured it to the side of the rock wall, the way you would when constructing a bushcraft shelter. He carved out a slot in the wood to slide the metal into, creating a hinge and allowing us to open and close the door easily.
Eventually, Nate went to work on some sitting space and a bed. Not that we do much sitting when our lives consist of daily work maintaining our fires and hunting for food.
We don’t do much sleeping either. But that has nothing to do with work.
I can’t help but smile to myself as I think of our nightstogether. I bend down to pick up some firewood for our shelter and the beach fire, and a chill sweeps down my spine.
I’m being watched.
I stand up slowly, turning my head from left to right. I don’t see anything, but I know it’s there.
Hunting me.
I let out a short breath and try to suppress my fear. Fear makes me easy prey. I stand tall, making myself appear more threatening than I am. I don’t move a muscle, trying to give the impression that I can see my stalker. The sudden silence of the jungle is unnerving; the only sound I can hear is my light breathing. Even the birds seem to have abandoned me. I hear a branch snap and the rustle of leaves coming from my left side. I slowly turn my head in that direction and meet the vibrant amber eyes of a huntress, hunched low in the tall grass.
Jaguar.
They aren’t typically a danger to humans. Jaguars are shy creatures, and don’t normally attack unless they are provoked or feel threatened.
She feels threatened.
Which means she must have a cub nearby.
My heart races, and time seems to freeze. The fur of her golden coat, decorated with black rosettes, sways with the soft wind. Our eyes stay locked, each regarding the motives of the other. Her powerful muscles clench as if she is going to leap in my direction. I grip my spear tightly, not wanting to hurt her, but willing to do what it takes to protect myself.
She stands up and inches forward cautiously, no longer in a position of attack. I hear the rustling of grass behind her and realize it must be her cub. She watches me intently, like she is trying to determine if I’m a threat. After what feels like an eternity, she turns her head, stretching her long neck before swinging her head back in my direction. With one final look, she bends down and lifts her cub in her mouth and runs off.
Jesus.Christ.
I let out the huge breath I was holding. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I quickly gather the rest of the firewood and run toward the beach. I am definitely not going to tell Nate about that. He would never leave my side if I did. The uneasy feeling eventually settles when my feet meet the sand. We’ve never seen a predator on the beach, so I feel the most comfortable when I’m out here.
I feed the bonfire, adding more rubber from the suitcases to turn the smoke black, then head to our lobster traps. I squeal with excitement when I see we’ve captured two large crabs. We are definitely eating well tonight. I grab our dinner, drop them into my foraging basket, and then bundle the remaining firewood and head back to the shelter to drop it all off.
Nate isn’t back when I return, so after securing the crab, I take off toward the river.
I reach the riverbank and find Nate swimming over by the waterfall. I sit down in the mud and watch as he does a few laps back and forth. Nate has definitely kept up his exercise routine since we’ve been here. Now that we are back to consuming a normal amount of calories, it makes sense to stay physically fit. Especially in this harsh environment.
I just happen to stay fit in other ways.
Nate (Present)
She thinksI don’t see her sitting there, watching me. I put on a show a little longer, letting her relax for a minute. I’ve got plans for her, and theydo notinclude rest.
“If you look…you also have to touch. I don’t make the rules, Pip,” I tease, keeping my back to her.
“What exactly do I have to touch?”
“I have something in mind. Come on in,” I throw back, finally turning around. She raises an eyebrow, shaking her head in exasperation.
