The Ocean's Girls

Underground

Beyonce

At least we had a little bit of a plan. Ask the leader tomorrow what we could do to get back to Barbados. If he couldn't be helpful... hopefully we could find another way.

I don't have much time to think about it as sleep slowly overcomes me, Rihanna lying right by my side. I feel myself smiling slightly. I already could see myself forgetting my life before she came into it. 

Rihanna

Swells of cool air rushed down my body and I shifted, a shiver running down my body. I turn on my side, opening my eyes slightly, expecting to see a sleeping Beyonce but my eyes widen fully when I see unoccupied sand. I clamber to my feet, walking out of the hut, looking around. The sun looked to indicate early morning, everyone from the village already hard at work. 

Many women were carrying woven baskets from the jungle, filled with dead bark and palm fawns from the green jungle. A huge pile was being dumped on the beach, getting larger by the minute as more people worked to add to the large bundle.

I look around for Beyonce, letting out a small sigh when I see her emerging from the jungle tree line, a sour look on her face.

I trot up to her. "What happened?" I ask and she winces slightly. 

"I threw up." She finally admits, and I frown. 

"The fish?" I ask as we both start to make out way to the main village. 

"I guess." She agrees, pausing as her hazel eyes flick across the large pile of branches and such towering in front of us. We had reached the village. People had decided enough was piled in this bundle, and had started an equally as impressive and large pile beside it. 

"What's all this for?" Beyonce asks, just as the leader emerges from a hut on the edge of the little town, ducking under people carrying a large branch as he makes his way to us. 

"Good morning ladies." He says, his voice painfully chirpy. 

"Hi." I say lamely, about to ask the question Bey and I had discussed last night, but pause as he turns his back from us, calling into the village. Two burly men emerge from the huts, their shirtless abdomens painted in mud patterns. They both sported large packs. 

"Are you ready for our hike?" The leader asks, his leathered skin wrinkled from his strangely large smile. 

"I- yeah," Beyonce says. "But-" 

"But nothing! Let's go!" He says, peppily walking off up the beach toward the jungle. 

"This guy is impossible." Beyonce breaths out, and I agree. 

"Come on, let's catch up to him." I say, following the two painted men into the jungle after the leader.

------------------------------------------------------------------

As we trek down the jungle trail my eyes travel upwards. Spans of white flowers bloomed from the towering trees above, the green canopy over our heads blotting out the sun. Specks of gold danced across the ground covered in ferns in result, vines strung across trees far above. If someone was to snap a picture of what I was seeing right now, and would have shown it to a random stranger they would have never believe it to be real. It looks like photo-shop for sure.

One of the two men walked ahead first, cutting any stray vines out of the way of the narrow one person width path. Then the leader followed, Beyonce and me in the middle, with the last man walking behind. It felt strangely protected and also seemed to serve as a constant reminder that we were technically captives.