What do I do?
Did I just sit there, drowning as the skies washed away the earth? Did I try to stand and find shelter? Seek the others? Do my best to survive?
So many questions and no answers.
My leg meant I was screwed unless I could figure out a way to secure the broken limb and somehow haul myself to my feet (or rather foot—the other was broken, too).
The cut on my thigh oozed but wasn’t life threatening. While the storm raged, I couldn’t do a damn thing. I’d only slip on the soggy ground and cause myself more pain.
So...even though I hated every wasted second, I did the only thing I could.
I slouched against the palm tree, cursed my brokenness, and willed the storm to leave so the sun could rise and this whole bloody nightmare could be over.
Chapter Eleven
...............................................
E S T E L L E
......
I am nothing but loneliness. I am nothing but hope. I am numb but full of intensity. I am alone but not lost. I belonged to society, but now, I’m abandoned free. Free or dead?
All freedom can seem like death for those unprepared.
I am unprepared. I’ll survive this.
Taken from the notepad of E.E.
...
THE BLUSH OF dawn came on the heels of the storm.
Slowly, the sky switched from dismal black to watery grey. The rain turned from deluge to drizzle, the wind stopped howling, and the earth breathed a sigh of relief as the clouds dispersed and left us to dry off.
I wriggled out from beneath the bush where I’d huddled. I hadn’t been able to sleep (who could dripping wet and terrified), but I had been able to rest my broken ribs and figure out a plan (sort of. Not really).
I’d rested there, grieved there, until the depressive burden had eased. Until my eyes stopped weeping, my courage stopped failing, and my fear stopped choking.
I’m alive.
It was a gift. A triumph after a blurry blender of battery.
Goosebumps covered my bare arms, mottling white skin with bruises and minor cuts. I looked as if I’d painted myself in mud from crawling in the storm.
I would’ve given anything to have my puffer jacket. It wouldn’t have kept me dry, but at least, the feathers and duck down would’ve kept me slightly warmer than bare skin.
Not to mention, the items I’d stowed in the pockets on a paranoid whim that’d turned out to be far too premonitive. I’d stuffed nonsense things with my fear of crashing. And now, I’d crashed, and I had no idea where my jacket was.
Had I jinxed myself or had fate merely toyed with me, leading me to believe I could circumnavigate the future while I ended up walking straight into its trap?
Either way, I was alone and hurt. I had to get help and find a way back to society.
Every step killed my broken ribs. I kept my arms wrapped snug around myself, fighting against tiredness, shock, and hunger as I headed back the way I’d crawled. I’d decided, while curled up beneath my bush, that hacking through dense forest without returning for supplies or checking on the others was suicide.
Going back to the helicopter, now the risk of an explosion was less likely, made the most logical sense.
I breathed with relief as the cool breeze switched to muggy warmth the longer I walked. The forest steamed as it steadily grew warmer, turning fresh air into an oxygen-rich soup.
It’d been cold last night, but now, the increasing humidity sprang with full force.
Stopping, I called, “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”
I waited for a reply.
One minute.
Two.
Nothing.
Fighting the heavy weight of worry, I supported my throbbing ribs and trudged forward.
Where? I had no idea.
Why? I had nothing better to do.
I could remain under my bush and hope to God someone found me or I could be proactive and seek help on my own. Besides, there’d been seven of us when we crashed. I needed to know if seven of us survived.
My ballet flats scuffed fallen palm fronds. Thirst attacked me now I was moving in the heat, and I folded to my knees to lap a large puddle where rainwater had gathered on a glossy leaf.
You need to store some of it...before it’s too late.
I rolled my eyes at my stupidity.
This wasn’t that type of crash. We were in a high-traffic tourist destination. The chances of no one being on this island were slim. The chances of having to wait a few days for help even slimmer.
I bet the moment I cut through the forest I’ll find a resort with staff, a doctor on call, and a room I can check into.
Even as I forced the rationale to take hold, I couldn’t stop the whisper of common sense.
Water food shelter safety.
Water food shelter safety.
My mind took over, switching from hopeful na?vety to haphazard survival. I didn’t know a thing about how to source fresh water once the rain evaporated. I didn’t know how to check which plants were edible and which were poisonous. I didn’t know how to hunt, track, build, fish...
Oh, God.