"What are you doing?" Eleanor asked as she walked up behind me.
I turned around and noticed that she was wearing another of my shirts and a pair of running shorts rolled several times at the waist to keep them up. She was going through what little wardrobe I had on the boat with me fast and we hadn’t yet come up with a feasible solution for washing clothing unless we were going to get primal with it and start pounding my polyester blends and well-worn cotton on the rocks at the edge of the tidal pool.
"I'm cutting poles for the shelter,” I told her, not even trying to disguise the disdain I felt for her.
"What shelter?" she asked, her voice annoyingly high and innocent as if she had just wandered out of a five-star resort and really did have no idea what I was talking about.
I let out an exasperated sigh and started cutting through the pole again.
"We already had this discussion. A few times. We have to build a shelter if we’re going to get through our time on this island, however long that might be. That storm is going to be nasty and it’s going to get here soon.”
"I know what you’ve said,” Eleanor said, some of the sweetness gone, “I’m not as stupid as you would like to think that I am. But we haven't even planned anything. We haven't talked about where this shelter is going to be, much less how we should build it."
I was officially at a loss. Where in the living hell was this woman’s mind that she hadn’t noticed the work that Hunter and I had done already? She had spent the last two nights sleeping in the cabin of the boat, despite my greatest efforts at warning her not to because we didn’t know when the storm would hit, but that meant that she crossed onto the beach directly across from the shelter every morning. How could she not have noticed it?
"There doesn't need to be a 'we'," I said, finally snapping the stalk and tossing it aside. "Hunter and I can do it ourselves."
"Why should I listen to you?"
"What?" I asked.
"You're just going to take over everything and we're expected to just go along with it?"
"I was the only one who was doing anything until Hunter joined me, and I seem to be the only one who has any idea what we should do, so if you want to get through this, your only choice is to listen to me."
"That is not my only choice," Eleanor said, his voice raising higher. "I am more than capable of handling things myself.”
She sounded nothing short of indignant, but I could hear the tremble of emotion in her voice. I knew that there was much more to that statement than it held at face-value and my mind immediately flickered to my assignment. Who was this woman and what made her so damn important that I would be hired to come after her?
"Oh, so you've been marooned before? I'm sorry if I don't immediately have the utmost trust in Auntie Mame. I have extensive survivalist training and have spent weeks in the wild on my own."
“You have no idea what I’ve had to survive,” she growled at me. “They don’t make convenient little tools for what I went through.”
I could feel the anger coursing through me, tingling in my fingers and roaring in my ears. This bitch was becoming more trouble than I might be willing to deal with.
“Somehow I doubt that your privileged lily-white world has given you any of the experiences that I’ve had or offered you any of the skills that you’re going to need to get through this. It just so happens that I do have some of those skills, so you have the choice of either actually letting go of your desperate desire to control everyone around you and helping, or you can move your ass out of my way and be on your own. At this point you could tumble down one of the cliffs for all I care.”
Eleanor glared at me with fire in her eyes for a few long seconds before she spoke again.
“It’s going to start raining soon. Why don’t you put your dick away so you can actually get something done around here?"
I was stunned by her words. I wouldn't have expected that from her. Of course, I didn’t know her beyond the simple dossier that I was given when I was hired, but that had been enough to form my image of her. I knew what these wealthy women, women who had never known anything but power and privilege and walking on the backs of people who they saw as beneath them, were really like. It was this perception that made me capable of doing the things that I did. It was difficult for me to truly feel remorse when I felt like the people I was sent after had created this situation for themselves and likely deserved whatever was waiting for them. I didn’t know who Eleanor was or what she had done to cause so much anger toward her, but I wasn’t in the business of judgment. I didn’t have the luxury of assuming that there was good in everyone. In fact, it served me well to believe that people generally got what they had coming to them, and that in the greater scheme of life, the wealthier and more powerful the person, the more room they had in their lives to deserve what I facilitated. I had gone into this job with a picture of a polished, attractive middle-aged woman and the assumption that she was just like every other rich person I had ever encountered. Now that I was seeing her with the gloss of privilege washed away, however, I was seeing strength and edge that took me aback.
Just then, Hunter walked up, looking between us as if he could feel the tension that was still lingering there. Silently calling a truce so that we could do exactly what Eleanor had suggested and actually get something done, Eleanor and I followed him down to the beach where we sat down in the sand to plan out the rest of our shelter. Hunter and I showed her what we had already accomplished and we worked together to plan out the rest of what we would add to it. I had to stop myself from laughing when Eleanor asked in all seriousness if we were going to find a way to create a bathroom in our shelter.
An hour later, I was back to cutting the bamboo stalks, piling them carefully beside me so that Hunter and Eleanor could carry them over to the skeleton of our shelter. We had broken down the nets from the boat so that we could use the ropes to lash together the stalks, and though only a small portion of the shelter was finished, it finally seemed as though they were finally working with some semblance of cooperation.
"Ow! Motherfucker!"
Hunter's voice broke through the concentrated rhythm that I had fallen into over the last several hours of work and I nearly dropped my knife. I turned and rushed toward the direction of the shouts.
"What's going on?" Eleanor asked, running to catch up with me from the site of the shelter where we had been working.
"I don't know," I answered.
I could still hear Hunter muttering and groaning, and grisly thoughts crept into my mind. There were many dangers in the jungle, and I was afraid that we had been pushing ourselves too hard to get the shelter finished, putting us at risk. Finally, we found Hunter leaned against the wall just inside the mouth of a small cave. He was gripping his leg and I could see the faintest tinge of worry creeping over Hunter’s features.
"What is it?" I asked, crouching down beside him.
"Snake," Hunter said through gritted teeth. "I found another little creek a few yards away and was getting some water. Apparently, he didn't appreciate the company."
He groaned again and closed his eyes, arching slightly as if the pain was intensifying with each moment. I reached out and rested my hand on Hunter's to pull it away from the wound. Hunter relinquished his grip on the bite and I looked down at his leg. Narrow rivulets of blood trickled from the deep punctures and the wound was already beginning to swell. All of the conflict that had occurred among the three of us went to the back of my mind and I felt myself going into action.
"Are you going to suck out the venom?" Eleanor asked.