Page 24 of Hate Wrecked

Behind me, I hear Rowan stoke the fire and move around in the lazy way people do in the mornings.

When he joins me in the sand, he doesn’t sit down, so I look up at him. I can tell he’s looking at the boat.

“What’s the plan for today?” I ask.

“We get to Falcon Island—radio home. See if there is a better shelter there. I’m sure you’d like to be out of the tent.”

I would prefer to be inside the tent. Being out of the tent means sleeping alone, and I don’t want that.

“What direction?”

Rowan glances around, and then nods. “I have a map of the atoll. I think I know where we are.”

My stomach grumbles of its own accord, and Rowan glances down at me. “You should eat one of the granola bars. When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t even know.” The stress from the crash and the loss of the captain pushed away all thoughts of food. My body is suddenly starved, though.

“Okay. Grab something to eat, and get ready. Comfortable shoes. Do you have them?”

“I have some tennis shoes in my suitcase.”

“Okay,” he says.

I look out at the boat, mentally preparing myself for what we must do.

“I’m going to swim out to the ship. Get the lifeboat disengaged. I’m going to try it alone and check below deck again,” he affirms, crossing his arms, waiting for the fight.

He gets it.

“Are you trying to die? The yacht is hanging by a thread, Rowan. You saidwewill go out together to get it.”

“I changed my mind.”

“This is not what we agreed to,” I seethe.

He shakes his head. “We need to prepare for the worst. We need to prepare for the possibility that no one is coming, at least not for a while. We know we won’t be here forever, sure. But what if it’s six months? What if it’s a year? I don’t know when construction on this island will begin. But until then, we need to ensure we don’t die on it like those who landed before us.”

I look away toward the boat—an ominous figure in the distance. I’m right. I know I am. It’s hanging on, just barely.

“One big storm”—Rowan continues—“and it’ll be at the bottom of the ocean, out of our reach. And valuable supplies go with it. There might be more water bottles. A flare gun. Rope. The things we desperately need, something more to give me hope we can survive this.”

When I look back at Rowan, there are tears in my eyes. “Last night, you were sure we would be able to radio home once we reached Falcon Island. Now, you’re throwing six months to a year at me to justify this stupidity. If you die, I die. You know that, right?”

“Not true,” he lies. “You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.”

“Whatever. You know you stand a better chance of getting that damn lifeboat in the water with me helping. And the below deck bullshit is exactly that. Bullshit.”

“Maybe, but…” He lets out a sigh, like he’s speaking to a child. “I don’t want to make it any harder than it needs to be.”

I don’t respond, instead deciding to walk away from him, along the shore, eyeing the yacht.

He doesn’t follow—lets me have my moment.

Because he knows I’m right. I know he does. It’s fucking dangerous. The coral reef is dangerous. Every moment we are out here, we are in danger. But we are better off together.

After a while, Rowan walks over and stands beside me in the sand. “I never should have brought you here. I should have read the signs. I just wanted to leave, to disappear for a moment. And now I get to. But I may never be found, which means you may never be found. You said you had a bad feeling, and I didn’t listen.”

“I always have a bad feeling,” I whisper. “How do you know what’s real and what isn’t? I don’t. My fight or flight is fractured.” I glance at him for a moment, then turn away, wiping a tear from my eyes.

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