Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“I wanted to get you away from the current.”
I nod. “Thank you. It worked.”
“If you hadn’t saved me,” he says, pausing just long enough to pull me to him and kiss my forehead fiercely. “Thank you.”
I kiss him back, my lips brushing his cheek. “You’re welcome.”
It feels good to not be the one who always needs rescuing. To be the one that can actually do some saving, too, and I’m glad he’s not too proud to admit it.
He slows when we near the shelter. “Something isn’t right,” he says.
I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I know by now to trust his intuition. That said, there are lots of things that aren’t right here, so I’m not sure what this particular concern is.
“Yeah? What?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s a sixth sense or something.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “You don’t have the stick,” he says. “Get one to defend yourself if necessary.”
In silence, I do what he says, grabbing a stout stick from the ground, and hold it like a baseball bat. He pushes open the door to our shelter, but there’s no one in there. It doesn’t surprise me. Even if there are others on this island, I don’t expect anyone to be willing to take on a man like Cy.
We go in, and I know he’s right. Something’s off. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. It takes us a moment before we realize what the problem is, and it dawns on us both at once.
“The food,” I say, at the very same time he says, “Motherfucker.”
I want to cry all over again. All the food that we spent all that time gathering for us. Gone. I go through the places where we hid it, under leaves and clothing. Shitty hiding places if you know where to look. We were only trying to get it out of the immediate line of vision.
“My God,” I breathe. “My God.”
“Son of a fucking bitch,” he fumes. “It’s fucking gone.”
Even with his arm hanging by his side, useless, he’s scarier than any other guy I’ve met. Intimidating. Ferocious.
We look everywhere, but it’s clear that even our more clever hidden supplies have been ravaged.
Someone’s watching us.
I hear a snapping of branches outside our door.
It takes a while for me to snap, but when I do, I do.
“I’ll kill them,” I say. “Kill them!”
I lift up his club, the mammoth one as big as my damn thigh, but with the furious outrage making my blood boil in my veins, I yank open the door. Cy’s on the far end of the shelter near the bedding where we hid the coconuts, and he can’t reach me.
“Stay here!” he shouts, but I’m already gone. The door swings crazily open, and I leap into the forest. I will kill them. Kill them.
“Come out!” I scream. “You goddamn thief. Show your face!”
Not surprisingly, no one responds to the welcome. I swing the club as hard as I can, striking a nearby tree so viciously tingles race up both my arms. I start when I hear a thud. I look around me, surprised to see coconuts on the ground.
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
As happy as I am to see some food, I drag my eyes away from the ground and shield my vision as I look far beyond where we are.
“Where are you?” I scream. “Where the fuck are you?”
Nothing. Not a sound. Not a bird twittering in the sky or a rustle of wind in the trees.
“Get your ass back here.”
I turn to see a furious-looking Cy standing in the doorway.
“I will kill them,” I fume. “I will beat his sorry ass until he—”
“Get back here.” I know that look, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it makes me squirm a little.
“He took our food,” I say, as angry as a disgruntled child who lost her turn on the merry-go-round. “Took our food.”
“Clearly.”
Then I remember. “But look!” I run to the tree, and he groans. I’m in trouble, and I know it, but I don’t care right now.
“Coconuts, Cy.”
I hold up several large, round coconuts in my hands. “I was so mad I whacked the tree with the stick, and these fell down.”
He shakes his head. “They weren’t there before.”
“I know,” I say, shaking my head.
“Hit it again,” he says, pointing the hand of his good finger toward the tree trunk.
“Good idea.” I lift the club off the ground, and before I do, I look to the top of the tree. “You see any coconuts?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
I rear back and swing the club with all my might. Coconuts scatter to the ground at my feet.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Are they… is it some sort of an optical illusion? Are we somehow not able to see them but they are actually there?”