An Ocean View

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Fins cut the water like knives. There were four of them. All of them circling, each getting more and more impatient by the minute. I could see a tiny island up ahead. If I could only reach it… One shark began bumping my little piece of debris, once only. Then they circle again, and another brave shark came and bumped my little raft. I whimpered, shutting my eyes tight. I cannot end like this. Not after being so close to shore. My eyes somehow managed to open. And there he was. Twenty-one feet long, back as black as an ocean night, belly as white as a diamond ring.

The piece of debris from the crash is still behind my shelter, I kept it in case I wanted to make something of it. I also made oars when I was naïve enough to think I’d be able to sail the ocean. I run over and grab both, dragging them behind me back to where I can see the person. Gently, I set down my raft and ignore the suffocating fear that grows with every step I take into the ocean. I’m shivering, whether that’s from the water or my panic I have no idea. And then I push off, my belly on the metal debris, my legs propelling me through. The oars are useless in the shallow water and if I sit up, water will engulf the raft and I would be in the ocean, helpless.
The other island is small, the East island. My guess is it’s about a quarter of a mile away, maybe less, I’m not sure. I doubt that island has any bounty like mine does, and even if it does, my home is not that island.
I use the oars now, paddling quickly, desperate to get out of the water. The suspense of not knowing what’s on the island makes my muscles work faster, my arms swinging forward and backward in a constant rhythm. Water splashes my face with every wave, almost as if it’s mad at me for being so close to someone that’ll change my life.
“Please don’t be dead,” I whisper to myself over and over again.
I’m so close. I can see the beach’s details now, and I can see the person clearer. There is too much sand and not enough trees for the island to hold anything special, except for the fact that there is a person on the island, which is special.
The floor of the ocean is only a foot away from the raft. I’m so tempted to get off the raft and start running but I remember what could be hidden under the sand.
Finally I hear the crunching sound of metal rubbing against sand, and hop off, running over to the person.
And there she is, less than five feet away from me. I pause briefly, collecting my thoughts. And then I’m running over, skidding to a halt next to the body. She’s on her side, facing away from me. Her pulse has a strong rhythmic beat, almost hesitant – thud, thud, thud, th-thud… And I turn her over, eager to look at the face of my new companion.
I gasp. He stares up at me with incredible green eyes, dark brown hair, and tan skin. “You’re a boy,” I say breathlessly. He gives me a confused look before passing out in my arms. I check his pulse again - thankfully still there and constant, and then I stare at his unconscious face.
“Crap,” I murmur.
He’s gorgeous. He has this uncontrollable look to him like he’s everyone’s superior and I will never forget his eyes, such an incredible green, so vibrant and there.
I am holding an unconscious beautiful boy. My first contact with a human for an amazingly long time and he just happens to be this stunning boy a model would be ashamed to hang out with.
Get it together Az, Screamed the side of my brain not corrupted by his face. I pull him over to a tree and prop him up. He’s wearing a dull red t-shirt, which doesn’t help the fact that it’s wet and sticking to him, showing every bump and curve of his muscles. I suddenly realize his head has a bright red streak cascading down his temple. In a panic I part his hair finding a deep gash going from his temple to a little before his ear. I bite my lip and look around. The only medical experience I have is from a babysitting course I took when I was eleven, and since then I’ve forgotten most of it. I do know he needs the cut to be cleaned and bandaged somehow. And of course I forgot my water on my island.
Boom! My thoughts cease when I remember the sky.
The clouds are right above us now, dark billowing clouds taking the sun hostage and ransom it with darkness.
It’s too windy.
Thunder echoes continuously, illuminating my background noise.
I need to clean his wound right now, before the rain starts.
The waves violently start to violently crash into shore, and waves are made out of water – salt water. I know from experience that salt water makes wounds heal faster with a cleansing affect. I just need to have something to transport the water…
My eyes scan the beach desperately for a large shell or an indented log of some sort. And my eyes finally rest on a plastic bottle, a very humanistic, hard plastic, blue, cracked, bottle. I run over to the shore line and snatch it up.  The crack isn’t very deep, so it’ll still hold water. And it’s so much larger than my old canteen.
I smile to myself, and almost make a promise to myself to visit the other island and see what other treasures lay hidden beneath the sand. Almost. Thunder roars at me, snapping me back into action. The boy is still lying there unconscious, twenty feet away from me, unmoving. I quickly fill the water bottle up the sea water and rush over him.  
I instinctively tear a strip off from the bottom of my shirt. I’ve done this before when I first got to the island; I had a huge gash on my arm from the shattering windows, a real deep bloody wound. I tore a piece of my jeans off and tied it around my arm to seduce the bleeding to a stop. It worked especially well with salt water to help clean and heal the wound.
I pour water on the cloth and start dabbing his wound. He winces unconsciously every time I press down. Salt water gives a stinging effect when applied to an open gash; that is undoubtedly what he’s feeling right now. After I’m done cleaning I gently tie the cloth strip around his head to stop the bleeding. I can already see blood seeping through.
Lightning flashes followed by a particularly loud rip of thunder. Gentle rain drops start falling and there’s more rain on the way. Sitting in the middle of the beach during one of these storms is incredibly dangerous, but so is being in the trees. I could make a small shelter, but that would take too long, and there’s no way I could make it back to my island with an unconscious, wounded boy and waves that could swallow us whole. I decide for the slightly risky route – the trees. Usually there are several fallen trees making a shelter underneath. If I can find one and take the boy with me we should be safe. But I doubt I could drag him by myself.
I dumb water one the boy’s face, hoping to wake him up. He stirs, opening those incredible eyes.
“You need to stand up,” I say, ignoring the look he’s giving me. There’s no time for pleasantries.  He’s scared, that much is clear. Lightning streaks across the sky, thunder rumbles close behind. “Now,” I say impatiently. He groans, and tries his best to stand. When he gets up he collapses, me barely able to catch him.
“Where does it hurt?” I ask.
“Head,” He groans. I put his arm around my shoulder and mine around his back to support him. I walk into the forest with no explanation to him of why. Logs and sticks make it difficult for us to walk without him tripping. Half way in I see what I’m looking for.
Three coconut trees fallen on top of each other making a tent shape. Several large sticks, logs, and palm tree leaves give us a nice roof.
“You see that?” I point past several yards of trees to my designated shelter. “We’re going there, okay? Can you make it that far?”
Sweat has formed on his forehead from only the little trip into the trees, his jaw clenching every time we take a step so I know he’s in a lot of pain.
He nods his head slowly, eyes fixated forward. We start again, him tripping every other step, me having to catch him every time. He’s heavy; likely all muscle, since his back is full of them.
When we finally reach it I let him crawl in first. He collapses on his back from pure exhaustion; I crawl in after him, proud of my find.
He breathes heavily. “Do you… Have any… Water?” He asks in between inhales.
“Uh no, sorry.” I answer, really feeling sorry. I’m starting to get thirsty too. He tries to sit up but winces. “I wouldn’t.” I say immediately.  
“You’re not the one with the throbbing head,” He snaps. I’m startled by his attitude but chime in, “It’s a concussion.”
He groans and turns on his side away from me.
I scoot over to one of the tree trunks underneath this shelter and wait.
Heavy rain starts after a loud thunder clap. There are several leaks, but nothing too major. But I know I’m getting wet, the rain will make sure of that. Wind blows away a lot of the leaves leaving more leaks, but overall the storm isn’t as bad as I predicted. Rain, wind, and lots of lighting but that’s the worst of it.
 I still can’t get over the fact that I’m sitting with another person for the first time in a very long time. I ignore the fact that he’s sassy, because I guess I’d be sassy too if I was injured and suddenly on an island with a complete stranger.
***
After awhile the rain seems to slow down and the clouds lighten up and move on. The boy still isn’t talking.
“Um, excuse me,” I say nervously. He grunts. I start again. “What’s your, uh, name?”  
He turns on his side facing me. “Ky. Who are you?”
I couldn’t help but smile. The person who saved your life. “Uh, my name is Azura but call me Az. I’ve lived here since I was twelve after my plane crashed in the Pacific.” It’s a list, my life in one sentence.
“Weird name.” Ky says, managing to have enough strength to sit up against the other tree.
“Almost as weird as yours.” I think I almost saw him smile. But then he closes his eyes and blocks me out again. “Does anything hurt?” I ask nervously.
“My head. Maybe my ribs a little.” He says with his eyes still shut. I have so many questions for him. How old are you? What happened? Did you have any family? What year is it? But I decide that those answers will come when they’re ready.
“I have a shelter on another island close to here. There’s water and food, and I could probably help you fix up your cut. Can you make it?”
“What does ‘making it’ mean exactly?” He wheezes. His eyes stay persistently closed.
“Going across the water for about a quarter mile, that’s it,” I answer slowly.
“On what?”
“A piece of metal debris.”
His eyes finally open, his eyebrows raised. “A what?”
“It’s from my plane crash,” I quickly explain. “It’s large and floats well. It should be able to hold both of us.”
I think I hear him mutter, “Should,” skeptically under his breath.
I ignore him and ask the same question again. “Can you go?”
He inhales deeply, closing his eyes again. “Sure.”
I stare at him incredulously. “Well then let’s go now.”
His eyes open again. “Now?”
“Yeah, you said you could make it, so why not?”
He stares at me for a moment, before coming to a decision. “You’re serious. Okay… “
Ugh, he’s annoying.
I get up to crawl out of the temporary shelter when I’m interrupted. “H-Have you seen anyone else here before me?”
I’m taken aback by his question, and answer hesitantly without looking at him. “No. I’ve been a lone since I was twelve; you’re the first person I’ve seen.”
I hear him shrink back, and I turn around startled. His head rests on his knees, he stays quiet but I’m sure he’s crying. I inhale, not entirely sure how to handle him. “Did you leave someone behind?” I ask quietly making me way back into the shelter, looking at him expectantly. He doesn’t answer. “It’ll get easier I –“
“Easier?” He explodes, so suddenly I flinch. “Losing your whole entire family will never be easy!”
“I understand –“
“You do not understand!”
I could feel the anger rising up inside of me. “I dounderstand!” I yell. “My mom left me when I was two; she just dropped me at the doorstep of my grandparents’ house. And my grandparents think I’m dead, Ky! At least your family knows you’re alive.”
He breathes heavily, obviously trying to cool himself down. “Knew,” He whispers. “That’s the thing about when people die; you act like they never existed.”
Past-tense.  I’ve thought about that often; the difference between alive and not alive. The dead get a whole new way of speech.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I know my condolences won’t help; it may make even make the situation worse. But there’s not much you can say when someone is grieving.
“You’re not. You don’t even know me, and I definitely don’t need you.”
I’m surprised to find myself not offended, but instead I’m shaking with anger. “Are you serious? Without me wouldn’t still be here, in fact you’d be unconscious on the shore of an island,” I find myself incredibly annoyed. “You know what? You can stay here if you don’t need me. I’ll go back by myself and feast on smoked fish and fresh water.”
I don’t wait for his answer before I storm out of the shelter. The jungle isn’t dense so I get out of there quickly, and thankfully my new water bottle and metal raft sit waiting for me at the edge of the shore.
I don’t even think to look at the rapids or the water level. I push off, my anger subsiding my fear. I feel a tug of something and realize that there are rapids – strong ones – pushing me. Soon I’m fifty feet to the right of where I started. Then suddenly I’m pulled to the backwards, water spraying my face making it impossible to see anything. I feel my raft begin to dip down, the slippery metal sliding away from me. I’m going to end up in the water, I’m going to drown.
And eventually I do end up in the water. I can’t see anything, I can’t breathe. A brief calm spot allows me to pop my head up and I gulp down air just in time for a current to take me again. I hear something screaming, and I realize it’s me. I can’t swim.I think to myself. I’m going to die. I’m going to die in the water and no one will ever be able to find me. Suddenly I feel something strong wrap around my waist, and I immediately think it’s something like a gigantic man eating octopus and I struggle to break free. But the thing is stronger than me, and I can’t breathe. Black spots start clouding my vision and I find myself inviting death, eager for the stress of keeping myself alive to be over. Blackness completely clouds my vision and I decide to let go.