My heart rate exploded.
Millennia of evolution had been lost by living in cities, eating prepared meals, letting the cogs of society keep us insulated from truly living. I was ruined for whatever potential scenario I had to face. Money was the only weapon you needed in the pampered lap of the modern world.
Had I been stripped from that forever? How many days would I have to remain here before I was found and returned to the only life I knew?
Don’t think that way.
But it was hard not to.
Questions poured into my mind of what-if, and when, and how, and why, and, and, and...
Stop it!
Halting in my tracks, I took a deep breath. I focused on the stretching of my lungs, the rain-sweetened sky, and the sharp agony of my ribs. The pleasant petrichor perfumed the air with post-shower fragrance.
Words.
They were my lifeboat in a sea of sensation. Words were my weapons, and it soothed me being able to assign such a pretty phrase like ‘petrichor’ to the dewy scent lingering around me.
I had my life, my dictionary of favourite letters. I had enough to be strong.
First things first.
I needed to understand this new world. I needed to explore and figure out just how bad things were before jumping to idiotic conclusions.
There was no saying we didn’t land on an island where people lived. Just because there’d been no lights or signs of life last night didn’t mean they didn’t exist.
This isn’t one of those islands where marooned travellers die, stranded and alone.
That wasn’t possible. Not in this day and age. Not with technology and satellites and beacons.
My phone!
My footsteps switched into a quick jog before I groaned and slowed from my ribs. If I could find my jacket, I could call for help. My phone was waterproof. It would’ve survived the storm last night with no ill effects.
See? You’re being ridiculous for nothing.
Food and shelter—ha! I would be off this island (if it even were an island) by lunchtime.
Striding forward with renewed purpose, I kept to the trails between tightly growing plants. I didn’t know the names. I was clueless what undergrowth I brushed against and what shade covered me.
Time lost all meaning as I kept moving. The air temperature increased until my tank top hung wetly with sweat as much as rainwater. Splices of sunshine kissed the forest floor, stealing the raindrops, reminding me that soon...there would be no water.
Drink. Before there’s nothing left.
I hated the instinctual reversion of my thoughts. Where had the sudden drive to store rainwater come from? Was I being overly pessimistic or cautiously smart?
In the end, it didn’t matter because I was thirsty again and found a few more leaves with fresh puddles. Cupping the greenery, I managed to scoop them from the forest floor and create a funnel so I didn’t lose the precious water, tipping mouthfuls down my throat.
Store it.
The thought came again, only more persistent. I would’ve willingly given in to my dominating mind but how? Store it in what? I hadn’t come equipped with bottles, decanters, and crystal glasses. I didn’t know how to weave a waterproof container from leaves.
I’m not a naturalist or botanist or survivalist.
I’m a lyricist and occasional singer.
Swiping away a pitiful tear, I moved onward. The longer I walked, the less dense the forest became. It took longer than I remembered to return to the crash and worry crept that I’d bypassed or taken a wrong turn.
The thinning undergrowth kept me going, however, encouraging me to follow the beckoning sunshine and soft crash of waves.
Waves.
A beach!
My walk became a painful jog. I burst from the trees and onto the soft sugar sand of a perfect bay.
Shielding my eyes from the sun’s glare, I made my way to the water’s edge and looked back. The lap of warm tide licked my ankles, filling my ballet shoes as my gaze landed on the storm-ravaged island.
All around me, the beach was littered with flotsam and jetsam of the tropics. A plastic bottle, smoothed and beaten flat by the waves, nestled in a vortex of seaweed.
The trees I’d just appeared from soared high but tentative, as if afraid the sky would slap them for being so prideful and riddle them with rain-bullets again.
Tropical colours sparkled, white sand glittered, and beauty existed in every inch of this wild, savage place.
Looking to my left, the beach disappeared around a bend, leading off to unknown territory. Looking to my right, the bay continued with sandy welcome until the same thing happened and the shoreline vanished. There was no inlet, no sandbank, no hint this island connected to a larger one or civilisation.
No sun-loungers or happy holidaymakers.
My heart did its best to reassure me. There was still more territory to explore, another coast to traipse, hope still lingering in the trees.
But for now, I had nothing left.
My worst fears suffocated me.
I’m alone.
On an island.
Turning to face the sea, my hope shattered and tears sprang to my eyes.