Page 49 of Totally Shipped
There is no sign of human life. Nothing.
As I’m looking around, studying the terrain and asking myselfwhere,Gray and Killian join me.
“The hot springs,” Gray says, putting a hand on my arm. “Killian and I think that’s the obvious place to look. If we were Harvey, that’s where we would be.”
I stare at the two of them. “Would he go somewhere obvious then?”
We could spend the whole day traveling towards these hot springs, and be going in the completely wrong direction.
“None of us can know,” Gray tells me gently. “But at least it's somewhere to try. Otherwise, we’re just shooting in the dark.”
He’s not telling me anything I don’t know, I’m just frustrated. “Can you find them from here?”
Killian points to a ridge that sticks up high above the tree canopy.
“That’s where the caves are. We should be able to get there in no time—a couple of hours, maybe?”
Staring into the jungle, I send a mental message to Daisy.Hold on my love, we are coming for you.
“Alright then, let's do it.”
I stop when Gray briefly pulls me into a hug.
“We’ll find her today, I justknowsomehow. It’s all going to work out, brother.”
“Then let’s get going. I don’t want to waste another second.”
I mean that literally. Every second without Daisy is time wasted. I love her; I want to spend every second with her, grow old with her, have a family with her. Spend years laughing, and loving, and being a family. And having lots of sex, even when I’m ancient and I can hardly get it up any more.
“What do you think? Just travel as the crow flies?” Killian asks. He points out a line that will take us down to the jungle floor. By taking that route, we’ll need to find a way up the rock face.
“We need to find the way we came down last time, on that fan of shale. That’s probably the best way,” Gray replies.
Right, Gray and Killian have been there before, so I can leave the route planning to them. As we walk, I keep an eye out for signs of human activity. Just the reassurance that we are on the right track would give us a boost.
We hide the buoyancy rings in some long grass. Killian plucks some lychees off a nearby bush. Leaning over, he gives me a handful. “Eat.”
“Thanks.” The juice stings my lips. The sun has fully risen now, and as it shines on my face. My skin feels tight, sunburned. My long hair and scruffy beard give me some protection, but my lips are chapped and my nose is peeling. What I wouldn’t give for a ‘Daisy aloe rubdown’.
Stepping into the jungle, heading towards the interior, is a relief. We’re all glad to be out of the intense sun rays. As I walk, I try to think up some optimistic thoughts about the future. I think about our baby.
I want to make so many things for the baby—a castaway nursery. We can make a crib, and mobiles out of vines and seashells. I can use my shirt for a baby-sling. I think that’s what they are called? Like a hammock you have hanging off your chest?
Maybe each of us should donate our shirts to use as diapers. How did people do all this stuff in the old days? Just let a baby hang out and piss and shit everywhere?
I go back to nursery planning, which seems easier to figure out than diapers.
Malc, Jasper, and I had an amazing nursery. Seriously, there was literally a huge room at the top of my parents house that was called ‘the nursery’. It was where Nanny Clark looked after us all one-by-one when we were born. Also on the top floor of the house were all our bedrooms (not our parents of course; the third level was for kids and ‘the help’ only). Next to the nursery was ‘the schoolroom’.
Not that we were homeschooled, but when we were at home, we were either to hang out in the nursery or the school room. We ate our dinners with Nanny in the nursery, and once we were all washed and pajamaed, we’d make our way downstairs to basically see our parents for the first time that day—to say goodnight.
Often, they were not at home and had forgotten to tell Nanny. I think she only stayed because she loved us, not because my parents were good employers. I’m quite certain they were not.
When I’m a father, I want my child to come to me with a big grin on his or her face. Not afraid like we were, hiding behind Nanny’s skirts, not wanting to interact with the pungently-perfumed parent-people.
And I want to support my child in whatever they are interested in. I’ll sit with them and listen and talk and play. That’s how I want my family to be. That’s how my familywillbe.
“Lea, this is where we hit the shale.”
