The Island

Chapter 9

I froze.

Then a wave went over me, knocking me off balance sending me tumbling in the water.

Regaining my footing, I looked again.

There it was, on the beach towards the far west, to my left; maybe about three hundred meters. The raft looked deliberately placed against the edge of a large rock outcrop that rose above it like a cliff on a knoll.

I ran out of the water back to my clothes excitement coupled with curiosity surging through my veins. I stood drying my legs with my jeans and quickly slipped on my underwear after shaking out the sand. I was so excited I couldn't stand straight; hopping on one leg, I couldn't even get the other one through the hole. I sat down on the sand and pulled on the damp, sandy jeans over my legs.

Questions flooded my mind as I nimbly trotted over the sand and rocks. Is it a raft from the aircraft? It must be, where else would it come from? What if there are other survivors? My heart pounded in my head and my shirt-hat nearly fell off as I hastily made my way to the raft.

I clambered over the next set of rocks, with a greater sense of urgency. I stopped and gave my head a shake. What is the hurry here? If I don't slow down, I could get myself killed.

My mind worked overtime wondering what would be at the life-raft. Dead bloated bodies? Food rations? A radio? Or would there be fellow passengers like me, scared and lonely; trying their best to cope? The questions kept coming, I closed my eyes tight; my heart was pounding and despite one part of my mind ordering my body to exercise caution on these rocks, a more primeval part of my mind was commanding my body to hurry.

I finally made it over the last group of rocks jutting out into the sea. The raft was still about two hundred meters away.

I hollered out, "Hello!"

I hopped down from the rocks, exhaling a prayer of thanks and inhaling a prayer of hope; and broke into a run; ignoring the sharp pains on the soles of my feet.

I kept hollering, "Hello! Hello! Is there anyone there?"

I saw movement within the shelter. Out stepped a female figure. I kept running and shouting, waving my arms - then stopped in my tracks about fifty meters away. The person was holding a gun in both hands, and pointed it straight at me!

The woman looked to be in her late twenties. She was holding a firearm with both hands, pointed out, knees slightly bent. Judging from her stance, I got the impression she knew how to use that thing - I didn't want to find out, so I raised both hands over my head, turning around giving her a good look. It's clear I'm not armed, if anything I look like a tourist.

I called out to her, "Hello, my name is Mark! I was on the flight to Vancouver!"

The woman did not look friendly. She maintained her stance, having the composure of a cop or someone with military training. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a single ponytail that went down past her shoulder. She was wearing lounging pants; attire many long flight passengers would choose to wear. She wore an athletic top that tightly fitted over her attractive figure. Her arms looked strong and muscular. It was so good to see another human being and a pretty one at that!

Behind her in the life-raft, peered out two faces. One was wearing a black burka and immediately began chattering at me; pointing her finger as if to blame or condemn me. I couldn't understand a word. The second face was smaller, maybe a younger girl also wearing a burka, but not as neatly worn as the other women who non-stop rattled away at me. The gun-woman ignored her, keeping her gaze and gun on me. How did she manage to bring a firearm on an aircraft I thought?

"Put that thing down before you hurt someone," I yelled. "I was on the plane too! I'm a passenger, look no gun. No knife. Safe."

Perhaps neither of the three women understand a word I'm saying.

Now I remembered.

On the plane, there was a group of men and women travelling together; towards the middle of the aircraft. All the women in that group were covered in black and wearing burkas; the men accompanying them, strangely enough, wore fashionable clothes; as if from Europe. I paid little attention to them, being at the tail end of the plane. I first noticed them at the gate, before boarding, and the commotion created when they rearranged the seating, they seemed like strict religious folks. I was thankful to be seated at the back and not having to listen to their squabbling. Passengers in front of me were uneasy, muttering, shaking their heads. I overheard other passengers talking about them openly; questioning why such a large group of them are travelling together.

Could these women be part of that group?

I bravely looked the woman in the eye and slowly took a step forward with both hands raised.

She shouted something at me as if speaking to a dog. Then she fearlessly took two steps forward, keeping that weapon pointed at me. It was at that point I realized the weapon was a flare gun. Of course - they must be the lucky ones that actually got a rescue kit. My hope stirred again, would they have a radio? What if they've radioed for help and a rescue crew is on the way?

"Radio?" I shouted.

The gun-woman slowly shook her head at me; never taking her eyes off me. It was unclear if she understood what I just said, did her body language mean "no radio here", or did it mean "back off!". Clearly, she was intent on protecting the other two women.

In retrospect, who could blame her? She's facing a white male stranger with no shirt on, wearing only jeans and a shirt-hat. They're scared. They're alone. They've probably been raised not to trust Westerners like me. I'm not going to get anywhere with them standing here like this. I'll have to change strategies.

I'll back off then. I'll keep my distance; there's no need to make direct contact with these women today, especially if they're not ready. I've got to earn their trust.

With that, I slowly walked backwards still keeping my arms raised. The gun-woman never smiled, she kept the same stern-faced cop-look and maintained her stance. The chattering one with the pointed finger raised the pitch of her voice as if to acknowledge they won this battle with the stranger. The younger girl was quiet.

After walking backwards a few meters, I turned around and started trotting back. Time to go back to the camp; today was a great day, I did some exploring; had a fun swim, and discovered I'm not alone.

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Mark has finally met other humans! But they seem very much afraid of him. How will he gain their trust? Read on to continue...