Tomorrow turned out to be worse than yesterday.
At daybreak, Conner and I returned to the helicopter, grabbing another plastic tarp from a dusty storage compartment and slicing through the seat belts with the Swiss Army knife. The nylon straps I cinched around Galloway’s splint, fortifying my flimsy shirt with rigidity.
We’d enjoyed a meagre breakfast of half a muesli bar each, another piece of beef jerky, and the rest of the bottle of water from Duncan’s backpack. We had two more bottles from the pilot’s supplies and three more muesli bars.
After that...we were screwed.
The aches and breaks from the crash had doubled overnight and muscles seized with day-late punishment. We moved stiffly with no smiles or conversation, slipping quickly into depression.
By afternoon, insects started to bother us: mosquitoes with their preference for blood, flies with their pestilent buzzing, even a few lizards and geckoes made appearances. I wasn’t hungry enough to contemplate stewing a lizard, but who knew what time would bring.
Pippa continued to burn up, and Galloway was no better. His ankle had kept him up most of the night and my heart hurt every time he struggled to his feet.
At some point in the night, I’d whisper-asked if he wanted help to go to the bathroom, but he’d never answered, leaving his sharp silence as all the reply I needed.
At least with his splint, he could move slightly easier.
Late afternoon sun beat down on us. No rain clouds danced on the horizon signalling an end to our thirst, and no boats or planes sought us out.
It was another day in paradise.
A paradise that was quickly killing us.
I paced the water’s edge, doing my best to figure out a way to survive.
Hunger and lack of water would soon drive us mad.
That’s my first priority.
Then we could create shelter.
But first...food.
Striding from the shore, I disappeared into the forest with renewed purpose. The strapping I’d wrapped around my ribs helped and I’d grown used to tensing when I moved to combat the nasty twinge.
Glowering at trees and bushes, I wished I’d studied botany.
What could I eat? What was good and what was bad?
Coconuts littered the ground, but I knew from drinking coconut water every morning in my smoothie that you had to get the juice from the young green ones, not the husky brown ones. The older ones were bitter and not nearly as bountiful in liquid.
Footsteps sounded behind me.
Conner.
His young face tight with worry. “Pippa is burning up. I’m worried.”
“She’ll be okay. We’ll look after her.”
“How?”
“Not sure yet, but we will.”
I’d checked her back this morning, and (thank God) she didn’t need stitches.
When I’d started my health food kick with smoothies, Madeline had sprouted all kinds of medicinal properties that coconut water supposedly held. Something about antioxidants and vitamins. I didn’t know how true it was, but I was willing to try anything.
“Want to help me get a few coconuts?”
“If it’s food, then yes. I’m starving.”
“You and me both.”
The mere thought of eating made my mouth water and stomach tear itself into eager pieces. We could have another muesli bar, but I didn't want to use our supplies so quickly.
Heading deeper into the forest, I kept an eye out for animals. The island was sizeable but not that big. I doubted we’d encounter large predators but snakes might lurk in the undergrowth.
A crash sounded, jerking our heads up.
“What was that?” Conner stepped closer to me. For his bravado and gung-ho attitude, he was still just a kid.
A few seconds passed with no other noise.
Swallowing my nerves, I shrugged. “Not sure. Let’s find out.”
“What?” Conner grabbed my wrist. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”
I kept moving, dragging him with me. “Trust me. We have to explore this place. We know humans don’t inhabit it, but knowledge is what will keep us alive, not fear. We need to know everything we can.” Flashing him a smile, I added, “Besides, we’re in Fiji, what bad could happen in paradise?”
He rolled his eyes. “Um, cannibals, sharks...”
“Cannibals?” My smile turned genuine. “What old documentaries have you been watching?”
“I dunno. Stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Yeah, you know. Gruesome stuff. It’s better than some stupid video game.”
“Wait. I saw you playing on one of those handheld devices. You’re going to fib and say you don’t like PlayStation? You have to be the only boy in the world, surely?”
Conner scowled. “No, I like it. I just don’t believe in it like some idiots do. They think they’re some macho soldier after playing Call of Duty for a few hours. They think being virtually blown up by a grenade is the worst thing ever, but they haven’t watched the History Channel.”
Wow, he’s a switched on boy.
I assessed him with fresh eyes. “You’re pretty cool, you know that?”