Page 41 of Dead Ahead (Department of Defense)
Ashley's body was covered up for the first time since we were on the beach and throwing away our clothes the day before. She had tied one of the blankets on as a kind of improvised dress, gathering it around her to sit just above her knees, almost like one tied a towel, except that she’d looped one end around her neck and tied it.
We didn’t technically need clothing here where no one could see us, but the impulse was too strong not to wander naked. I wondered if we were here long enough, we’d lose that impulse.
Probably not—humans had invented clothing for a reason.
And when winter came, clothing would be a must. But we weren’t going to wait until winter, because I knew we wouldn’t make it. If rescue didn’t come, we would have to take our chances heading back to the first island. Taking our chances with the elements was a game we wouldn’t win.
Ashley shifted again so the sun was on her face, and she shielded her eyes with her hand as she gazed out over the water. Her profile was strong in the noon light, soft and rounded in some places, defined in others. My mind and my body had noticed her body—how could I not?—but I hadn’t taken a moment to truly look at her.
She wasn’t tall, but she wasn’t short. When I’d pulled her into me yesterday, I’d been able to rest my chin on the top of her head. But she had long, shapely legs, powerful in a way that reminded me of a swimmer’s, as did her arms. A long neck made her movements graceful, dirty blond hair falling around her shoulders and down her back in a tousled mess of sea salt and sweat.
Her face was heart-shaped, her eyes large, and now that I could see them in the light, the color balanced between green and hazel closer to the iris. She wasn’t precisely fine boned, but there was a delicacy to her face that drew my eyes towards it. But it paled in comparison to the determination I saw in her eyes and the set of her jaw that was even more alluring.
She’d told me she was a survivor, and I believed it.
“Come on, let’s go.” I waved her to follow, and we picked our way back down towards what I’d started to think of as our camp.
Even if it was just a rowboat.
On the way down, we discovered a small cave that could be useful if a storm came along, and the boat didn’t offer enough coverage. I also marked some holes that could belong to small animals or snakes. Protein, either way.
We also managed to find a small bamboo grove. I was happy to see it, but Ashley was far more excited.
“There’s so much we can do with bamboo,” she gushed, running her hands up and down the stalks in a way that made me think of other things we’d just done, and I had to turn and walk away just to control myself. It was time to think about our survival, not other, more pleasurable activities.
Ashely trooped after me, carrying several downed poles of bamboo, a look of satisfaction on her face.
“Where exactly did you learn about all the stuff you can do with bamboo?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder and muffling a smile at her expression.
“Here and there,” she said. “Apart from boats in the middle of the ocean, I spend a lot of my research in different countries, usually in small towns or villages. There’s not always a ton to do while I’m waiting, and the locals are usually pretty friendly and willing to share things with me.”
“Yeah? That must be nice.” My experience in foreign countries had been the polar opposite of hers.
“It is.” She smiled a warm, bright smile that made my chest tighten to see it. “You learn a lot about people, and even if you don’t speak much of the language, you can still learn some fascinating stuff.”
“I guess a love of asking questions helps?”
I grinned to take the sting from my gentle jab, and a flush fluttered across Ashley’s cheeks and nose. She looked away, tucking her hair behind her ear, but I could see a small smile curving at her lips. “Yes, it does.”
“Do you speak a lot of languages?” Why did I want to know so much about this woman? I’d spent my life not caring, trying hard not to get too close to anyone, but I suddenly wanted to know everything about this one person.
Ashely shook her head. “No. Spanish is probably the language I know the best. Some Japanese, a little Russian, a few other romance languages, and Greek. Enough that I can get where I’m going and work with anyone who might be helping with the research. Your last name is Rusev, right? Russian?” She glanced at me, her eyes flicking to me and then back to the uneven ground before she stepped on anything painful.
“Yes. My dad was born in Russia.”
“Do you speak Russian?”
“I do,” I admitted. “Decently fluently. It’s come in handy for some things.”
I wouldn’t elaborate—I couldn’t—and Ashley seemed to know intuitively.
When we returned to camp, I set about making the rowboat into an improvised lean-to, enough to give us shade and some protection from the elements, with the old canvas and oars acting as posts and a kind of shelter. By the time I finished, Ashley had used some of the bamboo to build a small fire, and it was crackling merrily inside a ring of stones.
“Good job,” I said, crouching beside her.
She smiled over at me. “Lots of bonfires on the beach when I was in high school.”
We both sat, watching the fire for a time before I reached over and rummaged through the pile of bamboo poles. I found what I was looking for in a thin rod of cane, about the length of my leg. Ashley watched, curious, as I used the pocketknife I’d been so ecstatic to find wrapped in oilcloth to protect it and tucked away in the front of the rowboat when I’d turned it over. With it, our possibilities suddenly opened even further. It had probably been stashed away there for just this type of emergency.
