Chapter Fourteen
If I don’t move… if I don’t breathe. It didn’t matter what she did, her leg hurt like a bitch and there was no escaping it. She had six ibuprofen and antibiotics, though probably not the ones she needed, to last for a couple of days. The water in the pool was fresh but neither she nor Trent thought it was a good idea to drink from it. Not right away in any account.
“You know those little white lies you’re against telling?” she asked Trent as night fell and the light from above started to fade.
“Yeah?”
“I need you to tell me we’re going to be OK even if you think we’re not.” There weren’t many times in her life when Monica had been scared. This was one of them. What if no one found them? What would they do when they ran out of food?
“My car is on the road. Someone will spot it.”
She didn’t want to remind him that the road had appeared abandoned. And it wasn’t as if the islanders were looking for places to play these days. Most were just trying to survive.
“How did that earthquake compare to the first one?” she asked.
“Hard to say,” his soothing voice said in her ear. “My house made a lot of noise but the walls didn’t come down.”
Her vision was adjusting to the darkness of the cave but it was still impossible to make out the entrance.
“The first one could have loosened those rocks. Made it easier for them to fall this time.” At least his words sounded good to her ears.
Trent shifted beside her and she sat up. “You should lie down. That wall on your back can’t be comfortable.”
“Sitting up will keep me awake.”
Monica couldn’t make out his expression in the dark. She rested her hand on his chest in hopes of comforting him. His voice was tight and his entire frame was rigid. “We might as well try and sleep. Even when Reynard realizes you’re not coming home, it will take time for the clinic to get word to the doctors and for anyone to actually search for us. No one is going to spot your car in the dark.”
Trent sighed and shifted his weight down from the wall. Monica had her leg propped up on her backpack and Trent used a rolled-up towel for a pillow. She used his shoulder as hers.
Once she was snug against his chest, and as comfortable as she could be for a night in a cave with a broken leg, she attempted to close her eyes.
She could tell that Trent was just as awake as she.
“You know,” she whispered, “before the earthquake and the wall crashing down on me, I was having a really good time.”
Her chest rumbled with his soft laugh. “I know how to show a girl a good time.”
“I didn’t think it would be possible to have any desirable memories from this crazy week.”
“And now you’re stuck in a cave all because I wanted you to myself.”
She winced at the tone he was using against himself.
“Hey.” She poked his chest with her finger. “I wanted you to myself, too. You had no way of knowing this was going to happen.”
“I’ll remind you that you said that in the morning.”
She wiggled against him and jostled her leg with a hiss.
“You sure you don’t want to take two of those Motrin now?”
She wasn’t sure of anything. “I’ll wait until I can’t bear it anymore.”
His hand stroked her hair and down her arm. The rhythmic movement lulled her eyes closed. She heard Trent mumble in her ear three words.
“I’m sorry, Monica.”
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered back before she fell asleep.
The phone rang, jolting Jessie from her dreams. Beside her, Jack reached for the phone next to his side of the bed.
Her eyes swung to the digital clock across the room and noticed the time, 4:23 in the morning. Nothing good made the phone ring at this time of night… or day.
“This had better be good,” was how Jack answered the call.
Jack paused and listened to the caller. “This is her husband.”
Jessie leaned over and turned on the lamp. Jack was sitting up in the bed with his eyes wide open. He glanced at her, and his brow furrowed.
Jessie’s heart sank. “What’s wrong?”
“Ah, huh.” He held up a hand, asking her to hold her question. “She didn’t call? When was the last time anyone has seen her?”
Monica!
Panic gripped Jessie by the throat. She dug her nails into Jack’s thigh. “Is it Monica?”
“Hold on,” he told the person on the phone. “Monica didn’t show up at the clinic last night. She and Trent haven’t been seen since yesterday afternoon.”
Jessie’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s not like her.”
Jack returned his attention to the phone. “I didn’t know there was a second quake,” Jack said to the caller.
Another quake? Monica’s missing? Jessie tossed back the covers and climbed out of bed. She found her purse next to her dressing table and removed her cell phone from the front pocket. She punched in Monica’s number and listened to it ring. “C’mon, Mo. Pick up.”
It went to voice mail, Monica’s chipper voice telling the caller to leave a message. “Monica? Dammit, Mo where are you? Call me the second you get this. You hear me? Mo?” Her hand shook as she ended the call.
Jack approached her from behind and cradled her shoulders in his hands.
“What happened? Where is she?”
Jack shook his head. “That was one of the doctors. She went to Trent’s house to sleep shortly after I left. Was due back at the clinic eight hours ago. When she didn’t show up the nurse at the clinic left a message for the team leader at the hospital.”
“Did they check Trent’s house?”
“They’re not there. A friend of his said they left midafternoon and haven’t been seen since. With all the commotion after the aftershock, no one thought to search them out until nearly midnight.”
“Monica wouldn’t just leave. She’s too responsible. Oh God, Jack. We need to find her.”
“We’ll find her. Shhh, it’s OK.”
Only it wasn’t all right. Call it sisterly intuition, but she knew her sister and Monica would have to be half dead before she even called in sick for work. To not show up… not call?
Jack pulled out of her embrace. “You get dressed. I’ll call the pilot and the family.”
Jessie nodded, went into her closet, and grabbed the first thing she saw.
Monica moaned in her sleep but didn’t wake. Trent’s eyes had fluttered shut for only a few minutes at a time. He kept his ear tuned to the outside noises coming from above their heads. At first light, he planned on exploring the cave a little more. Maybe the quake opened up another passage, one with an exit. The cool air was coming from somewhere, and it wasn’t from above their heads. In fact, the only warm air came from above the cave. The constant drip coming from the foliage above and into the pool was its own torture device. It was as if each second was ticking away on their clock of survival. Trent might have been able to deliver the little white lies Monica needed, but his own mind kept a constant ticker tape of doom.
As he saw it, his Jeep was parked off the main road. The lagoon and cave were secluded with few visitors. Reynard wasn’t the one who showed him this little slice of paradise and Trent had no idea if his friend knew of its existence. Trent pictured the area from the air. The soft top of his Jeep wouldn’t reflect in the sun, and the black color might not stand out enough to be seen. The beach outside the cave would look untouched. They hadn’t even left a colorful towel to flag any would-be rescuers.
What the f*ck was he thinking when he brought her here?
Sex. That’s what he’d been thinking about. Horizontal alone time with his blonde angel.
He glanced down at her sleeping form. Well, we’re horizontal and alone. He’d laugh if the situation weren’t so dire.
Monica moaned in her sleep again, this time jolting awake. “Oh, God!”
“Shhh,” he tried to soothe her fears.
Her body tensed as she woke. Trent couldn’t see her face and was grateful not to have his own fears seen in her eyes.
“Not a dream,” she uttered.
“Shhh, it should be light soon.” The darkness was one more obstacle to overcome.
She was quiet for a few minutes, then her shoulders started to shake and a whimper escaped her lips.
Something inside him twisted and threatened to undo any resolve left.
“What is it?” What wasn’t it was probably a better question.
“I-I have to pee,” she choked out.
“Oh.” To have her so torn up over something so simple made him realize her vulnerability. Up until now, he hadn’t really seen that side of her.
He sat up, and helped Monica to a sitting position before turning on his cell phone to use the ambient light of the display screen to fill the cavern. When he shed the light on her, she turned away. “Hey.” He placed a finger under her chin and met her gaze. “It’s all right.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“This from a nurse who helps others every day?”
“I don’t like being the patient.”
He chuckled, trying to lighten the dark expression on her face. “Well role-play with me, won’t you? How should we do this?”
She looked around the cave. “We have to assume we’ll be here for a little while longer.” She pointed to a dark corner. “I can hold on to the wall.”
Trent scouted the area she considered, and dug into the sand with his shoe. He’d never been more happy to be a man than at that point. He returned to Monica’s side and handed her his cell. “You light the way.”
He lifted her as carefully as he could.
She still whimpered.
“Are you OK?”
She nodded, but even her nod lied.
Every step was carefully placed until he’d crossed the room and helped her stand on one leg. She kept the damaged one suspended.
“What can I do now?”
“I’ve got it.” She braced a hand on the wall and handed him his phone.
Uncertain if he should stay and hold her up, or if she could actually accomplish the task without him, he hesitated in releasing her.
“You can let go. Unlike guys, peeing is a solo thing for girls.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure, Barefoot.”
He released her slowly and waited for her to collapse.
She didn’t.
He turned his back on her and she cleared her throat. “Uhm, can you ah, not look but point that light this way?”
A few paces away he lifted the phone in her direction and stood by.
“Talk to me. Tell me a joke… anything. I can’t do this with you listening.”
He smiled in the darkness and said the first thing that came to him. “Did you ever wonder how the professor on Gilligan’s Island kept the radio working? It’s not like they were hoarding batteries on the Minnow.”
Laughter met him from her direction. “Someone told me there was an episode that explained the working radio, but I never saw it,” Monica said.
“And what about the ‘costumes’ they always managed to come up with?”
“Or the never-ending makeup Ginger always wore… hey, Ginger. Is that who you named your dog after?”
“Yeah. I guess I answered the age-old question, Ginger or Mary Ann.”
“Do you think Mary Ann hooked up with Gilligan or the Professor?”
“Popular opinion is Gilligan.”
“That leaves the Professor and Ginger.”
Trent shook his head. “I think the Professor was gay.”
Monica laughed in the dark. “Oh, I don’t know. He always seemed to have his eyes on the ladies. Besides, maybe Ginger and the Skipper hooked up.”
“Eweh.”
Monica giggled and the sound warmed him. “OK. I’m done.”
Trent handed her the phone again and lifted her in his arms. “Good thing I don’t weigh two hundred pounds, eh?”
“I bench press more than you weigh.”
“Oh, now you’re just bragging.”
He lowered her to the blanket and didn’t let go when she squeezed his shoulders. The ambient light of the phone gave him the proof he needed about her pain level. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was biting her lip. “Where are those Motrin?”
“Backpack,” she said between her tight lips.
He removed the phone from her grip and fished through her things until he found a ziplock bag with medicine inside.
“Which ones?”
“The orange ones.”
He plucked them out of the bag and handed them to her with a bottle of water. She took them without complaint and handed him the water after barely a sip. “Thanks.”
The phone indicated they still had an hour before any sun would filter through their skylight. After making himself comfortable beside her, he shut the phone down, determined to save the battery for as long as he could.
“I think Mr. and Mrs. Howell were the fortunate ones.” He continued with their conversation. “The happily married couple stranded on an island together.”
“All the money in the world and no way to spend it.”
“All the clout and no one to care.”
“Puts life in perspective. And here I thought it was just a sitcom. Thirty minutes of mindless entertainment. Guess I was wrong.”
Trent ran his fingers down her arm, giving her a little massage.
“That’s nice,” she told him.
“Take your mind off your leg?”
“It helps.” Translation: not really but don’t stop. There that smile was again on his lips.
“Do you think they’re looking for us yet?” Monica asked.
“I do.”