Page 54 of Wrecked
“But?”
“But this is going to make it even harder to make a fire tomorrow.”
“Well, maybe we will be rescued tomorrow and won’t need to worry about it.”
He smiles warmly as his sad eyes study my face. “Yeah, maybe.”
We run hand-in-hand toward the shelter. Nate moves the palm leaves covering the entrance and lets me inside. The layered foliage provides a nice shield from the wind and rain, but the external temperature is still almost unbearable.
Nate runs back outside, and I crawl toward the opening to see what he’s doing. He stages various pieces of bamboo upright in the sand, positioning them to catch the rainwater. I’m relieved to know we will be able to drink more than a few sips tomorrow. I’m tempted to run out there with my mouth open toward the sky and catch the rainwater, the thought bringing me back to my childhood obsession with Barney. The song oncesounded like the perfect solution to rain, but right now I’d definitely take the raindrops over lemon drops and gum drops.
After setting the last of the bamboo shoots out, he runs back toward our makeshift shelter, shaking off the excess water. He has several yucca fibers and thin sticks in his hand and sets them to the side.
“I t-thought t-the amazon w-was s-supposed to be w-warm?” I can barely get out the words as my body practically convulses. Nate sits behind me on the mossy, leaf-lined ground, pulling me backwards until my back is lined up with his chest. He opens his legs, cradling my body between them. I lean back, resting my head on his chest as he frantically runs his hands up and down my arms, creating friction in an attempt to keep me warm.
“It’s the rain season in South America. We’re going to have some cold nights ahead. I need to get a fire going, and we need to find somewhere to build a safer shelter.” He points to the small woodpile he had sitting in our makeshift shelter. “I’m glad I thought to bring those in here earlier. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
I hear the screech of monkeys in the distance and feel a swell of fear rise up in my chest. Anything can get to us in here. We are sheltered betweenbamboo and leaves. One swipe of a large paw, or a big gust of wind, and our entire refuge will collapse. What would we do then? Whatcouldwe do?
“How long do you think it will take for them to find us?” I ask.
Nate’s hands still rub my arms as he takes a deep shuddering breath, almost as if he is afraid to answer me.
“I think we need to start thinking about a more permanent means of survival, Pip. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I think it’s going to take time for them to find us. If…” He stops himself, clearly trying to protect me from his thoughts.
“If what? I…I can handle it.”
He takes a deep breath. “If they even look. If they suspect we crashed into the ocean, they’re probably not looking for survivors. Which means they probably aren’t looking at nearby islands or beaches. They don’t even know where ‘nearby’ is. We weren’t on the flight path they expected us to be on.”
“So…w-what do we do?”
“When they turned the plane around, they still had GPS. Meaning they were onaflight path, just not therightflight path. We crashed along a normal route. So that means planes have to fly by this area. Maybe even ships. We need to get a signal going if we want someone to know we are here. But even still, it might take some time to get noticed. We need to focus on surviving long enough for someone to find us.”
“How do we do that?” My chills finally subside enough to feel comfortable. Still, I seek Nate’s warmth as I nuzzle into his chest. I could work my way under his skin and still not feel close enough. He resumes rubbing my arms and places several kisses on the top of my head.
“We need to move inland and find something to build a more solid shelter against.”
“In-inland? How will we be seen if we aren’t near the beach? Aren’t there more animals inland? How is that safer? How would we keep a fire going?” My rapid-fire questions increase my anxiety as I think of all the potential dangers.
“We aren’t safe out in the open, Pip. There are a lot more resources we can use in the jungle to build a sturdy shelter. One that will last. Once I find some dryer wood, I will build a fire by our shelter and a bonfire near the beach. The bonfire is to get the attention of low-flying planes or ships. We will keep it going at all times.”
“You couldn’t get a fire started today, Nate. How are we going to have two?” It’s getting harder to breathe, my throat feels like it’s closing. I’m drowning. The pitter-patter of the rain on our shelter echoes around in my head, like the sound is bothnear and far. “Oh my God. This is how people die in these situations. They don’t have fire…or water…or…”
Nate turns me around, forcing me onto his lap. I wrap my legs around his waist, burying my face in his neck as I try to slow my breathing. He holds me in his arms, rocking me back and forth the way he used to when this would happen as a teenager. Every time my mom left town, leaving me to stay with my dad.
Panic disorder. That’s what my primary care doctor calls it. They happen less frequently, but I still deal with them. Only until now, I didn’t have Nate to help me through them.
“Shh, shh…deep breaths, baby. You’re okay. I’m here.”
“Nate, bamboo, palm leaves, sticks, rocks…”
“What?” Nate asks, confusion coating his words.
My voice wobbles as I reach out and touch Nate’s cheek. “Nate’s cheek.” My hand slides lower. “Nate’s jaw.” Back up and across. “Nate’s ear.” Diagonal. “Nate’s lips.” I whisper the last one as my fingertips linger longer than necessary. Nate finally recognizes what I’m doing, and his eyes fill with pride.
“Keep going,” he whispers gently.
“Nate’s voice, the rain, the ocean,” I whisper back, my heart rate returning to normal. He nods, encouraging me to continue. I run my nose along his jaw, grinning a little as I say, “Yucca soap.”
