Page 22 of Hate Wrecked

I clear my throat and she glances at me. I look to the tent. “You can lie in there now if you want. I’ll watch the fire.”

Riley shakes her head, holding her arms out in front of her. “No, I want to enjoy it for a little bit.”

“Fair.”

“Tell me more about this place.”

I shudder out a breath and wipe my hands down my face. “A family—the Fenwick-Lowe’s—had owned it since 1920. During World War II, the Navy took over the island without permission from the family. Around 6000 people lived here at its peak during those years. When the family finally won the battle to regain their island, it was left in ruins. They had no idea what kind of waste was being dumped, but the men here were warned not to eat the fish anymore, so something was happening. And it was overrun with rats.”

She shifts as I say this, as if the phantom feel of little bodies scurried over her.

“The family sold it to the US Government recently for around 37 million dollars. It’s been relatively uninhabited for years. Except the manager the captain told me about. I’m hoping he left supplies and a way to radio home. The government has plans to build a research facility out here. I’m not sure when that will start.”

“What did the manager do?” Riley asks, voice low.

“Everyone wanted a piece of this place over the years. People would come out here without permission. Claiming it as their own. So the family asked him to live here. To make sure anyone who visited knew the rules. He lived here alone from 1992 until recently.”

“Do you think he was lonely?” she asks.

I wonder if she feels lonely with me beside her. The expanse of my despair is long and blue. I’m scared. But more scared for her.

“He had two pet dogs. Two cats. And a hundred chickens. They kept him company. But he wrote that it has been hard to assimilate back into the real world since he has been home.”

“Maybe he had it right. The real world…sometimes it feels like a curse.” Her voice is a whisper, holding bruises.

“Maybe,” I whisper. “They call these islands cursed.” We never should have come.

When she doesn’t speak for a while, I try to reassure her. “Tomorrow we’ll get as many supplies as we can from the boat. Then we will move to the next island. We will have to be in the water. But it’s shallow between land masses. It may be a pain to haul everything above water, but we need to move.”

Riley nods, then stands, walking to the water.

I watch after her, call her name, ask her where she’s going.

“To scream into the sky,” is her only reply.

* * *

Our exhaustion causes us to sleep in later than I’d wished, but I tell myself we needed the rest.

The day rolls on swiftly. Against Riley’s concerns, I swim back to the boat three more times. Gathering supplies. Stripping it bare of what I can. We fight on the shore the way we used to on the shores in California.

Before I swim out, I tell Riley we’ll need to spend one more night on the island before we move, so she gathers more wood from the jungle, scraps to burn. Once, while I’m on the boat, I hear her scream into the sky again, and somehow, it makes me smile.

When I’m satisfied that I’ve collected enough valuable items from the boat, I ensure our tent is secure. The scent in the air has me worried a storm is approaching.

Riley watches me from her spot on the sand. She is cross-legged, wiping her eyes, running her hand through her hair, a nervous gesture I remember from years ago.

As the sun slowly descends, I pull out my lighter, starting our fire.

The stars come out as the sun leaves us, and Riley moves closer to the warmth but keeps her distance from me. I wonder if our fighting on the shore, or if the events of the day have drained her.

I think of the captain, alone in the bunker, dead.Who will miss him?

I didn’t know the man; I’ll never know the man. All I know of him was the picture of the woman in his boat.

After I’ve settled, I sit down, eyeing Riley across the fire, my body aching. “Thanks for your help today. We’ll get some rest and move islands tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll find a way to radio back home. And this nightmare will be over.”

Riley looks into my eyes and nods her head. She casts fleeting glances at the tent and the boat in the ocean, her eyes darting around. Her energy is palpable. Scared. Withdrawn.

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