Page 22 of Uncharted

Easton turns to me. “Was that so hard?”

“No. Give me that board.” I point to the one sitting next to Easton’s foot. He passes it over. I hold it up, mark it, and hand it back to Zane. He cuts it and gives it back. Nail, swing. Nail, swing. I’m not picturing anyone’s face when the head hits the nail. Okay maybe Sam’s a little. I’m thrilled we have the ship back. But Sam isn’t getting Haley back.

“I think we can sleep in here tonight.” Zane stands in the middle of the platform. He’s right. It’s almost done. We should have another layer of boards to bring it up higher to where we have the plastic from the raft cut. It’s rolled up now like a shade. In the rainy season, we’ll drop it. We can put the other boards up later. Do I think we’re getting off the island alive now? Maybe fifty percent.

Fifty percent.

“I’m going to move the sleeping stuff up here.” Zane hustles off to the living platform. I catch Easton’s eyes and hold them for a minute. He nods. Yeah, Zane is moving around like he’s getting ready for inspection. But Easton gets it. This is not going to be good. Not at all. Sam is not going to understand the way we’ve been living. Fuck, it feels so normal to me now. But...

“Is he going to make a big deal of this?”

I know he’s talking about Haley, not the shelter. “His ex-wife cheated on him. So what do you think?”

“They weren’t together. That’s what I was told.” Easton means Haley.

“No, but you spend that many weeks alone at sea and you make up stories in your head.” I would have used the image of her to whack off, make it through another night, the next hour. Yeah, no way this is going to go down well. “It’s going to be a fucking shit show.” I say under my breath.

Zane moves around me, setting up the cushion. It’s a while before he says anything. “Damn, you think he’ll really bring things?” He’s so fucking positive he’s brushed everything I’ve said about this being a ticking time bomb off.

“Dante gave him a long list,” Easton says.

“Right.” Zane leaves to grab more stuff while Easton and I clean up the tools. When he comes back, he arranges the cushions and puts things in the cubbies he’s made along the back wall.

“It looks good, Zane.” I nod at him. We’ve worked really hard to get things done.

“Thanks. I... I was a lot.” Zane stumbles over his words.

“Yes. You were an ass. But your design is solid.” I smirk.

He glances up the map tree to where we’d planned to build a lookout tower. “Thanks.”

“Have you ever thought of being a designer?” Easton’s got a woven little hand broom that Haley made and is pushing sawdust off the platform.

“Maybe?” Zane shrugs.

There’s more there. I know he was saving for a boat of his own. But I might be wrong. We all stand and look at the platform. It looks fucking good for a bunch of reclaimed wood. Some of the derelict’s panels had carvings on them, and Zane has incorporated them. With some of those twinkly lights my mom used to scatter around the backyard screen porch, this place would look almost magical. There’s nothing left to do. We head down.

Dante’s got the fixings for dinner, some crabmeat and a bunch of small white fish from this morning’s tide. We’ve got a few hours before the next tide cycle when we’ll need to toss anything we don’t need and set aside the things we want to keep.

“I guess we should go down and wait with Haley and Dante.” Easton’s got his arms crossed like we’re going to the DMV on the last day of the month.

“Come on. I’m excited to see him. And, well, clothes that don’t smell like shit.” Zane nods, grabbing a pomelo from the basket.

“Hey.” Haley jumps up from a log on the beach. “How’s it going?”

Zane sits on the log next to Haley. He puts his arm around her. “Great.”

“The platform looks good.” Easton adds. Then we stare at the ocean watching the waves. No one’s talking about Sam coming. What are we going to do?

Easton clears his throat. “We’re going to need to tell him.” His face is void of emotion. The asshole really is meant for a corporate boardroom.

“Right. Sure. But how?” Zane looks around the circle.

“Hey cap, just so you know, we’re all fucking. And I’m not planning on stopping. That should work.” Dante shrugs.

“Dante!” She purses her lips at him. “We do have to tell him. Or rather, I have to tell him. It will be better coming from me.” She nods like that’s the decision.

“No, it won’t.” I shake my head. “I don’t want him coming at you.”

---