Page 32 of Hate Wrecked

“Do you want to see what it’s like, at least? In case we need to come back here on foot?”

She nods, and we walk toward the shore. I enter the water first, and Riley follows. It’s clear blue, shallow, and bright. Overhead, birds caw and scream into the sky.

There are so many birds I can barely think, and Riley grabs my shirt as we sink further.

“How many do we have to cross to get to where we are going?” she asks. “I can see everything in the water. And I don’t know if that comforts me or not. Would seeing a shark coming for me be better than not knowing it was there?”

I laugh as she lets go, looking down. “A couple. Just watch where you step.”

She rushes to my side, water splashing. “What does that mean?”

“Just be careful.” I shoot her a sideways glance as we approach the north-south causeway that stretches between Echo Island and Tinker Island.

“Of?”

“Riley, Jesus. I don’t know. Jellyfish...bombs.” I say the last word under my breath. I’m not too worried about bombs, and I curse myself for letting that slip out.

“What do you mean bombs?”

“Riley, the Navy occupied this place for twenty years. You never know.”

“I think you know since you’re obsessed with this place. What island do we need to worry about?”

I take Riley’s hand, tugging her along. “The one we just left.”

She curses, rushing to the shore, dropping my hand. “You’re a real asshole, you know that.”

“And you’re a real crybaby,” I say, laughing.

She glares at me as I pass her. We wade across the sand flats to the next island. And something about being away from our tent makes me feel incredibly lonely and scared, out here in the nothing with Riley, no shelter, the island—a beast we cannot tame. The shoreline is breathtaking, but I can’t enjoy it. I’m scared. I’m scared and in awe of this world simultaneously.

“Do you know which island…” she hesitates, swallowing. “Do you know where the murder was?”

“No. The couple’s remains were found in a container that washed onto the shore. I don’t know which shore.”

“I can’t tell if you really don’t know or if you’re protecting me.”

I smile at her, checking out the shoreline, and glancing back at the path we just traveled.

“I wish I could say I don’t know why you’re so fascinated with it,” she says, “but how many of us are fascinated with death?”

I don’t respond, concentrating on the task at hand. I pull out my map to orient myself. “I believe the next one is the one we’re searching for. There should be shelter and a way to radio home. Once we know it’s the right one, we’ll grab our things and head there. Then, we will get back home.”

I almost see Riley smile at that, but half an hour later, back on the island where the captain is buried, she is scowling as she wipes her brow. We have a long day ahead of us. I give her a moment then ask, “Are you ready?”

She nods, her eyes filled with apprehension as we push the lifeboat away from the shore, the water’s gentle resistance yielding to our effort. As it floats freely, I secure the paddles in their holders and take a moment to study the map again. We found Falcon Island, so now it’s just a matter of getting our belongings there. The main island is safer, and I’ll feel better about weathering any storms once we are there.

“We’ll head toward Falcon Island,” I say, tracing the route with my finger. “There should be buildings there—better shelter. Less creepy shelter than the damn bunkers. Gerald lived on the island for years. Surely, he had a way to radio back to the mainland.”

Riley squints at the map, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Fuck, I hope he left a working radio.”

Together, we start paddling as the sun beats down on us, beads of sweat forming on our foreheads as we move the lifeboat forward. The sound of our paddles slicing through the water mingles with the distant calls of seabirds.

As we approach the island, the promise of discovery, of hope, beckons. The lifeboat glides onto the sandy shore, and we disembark on solid ground, enjoying a temporary respite from the uncertainty of the open sea.

We unload our first batch of supplies in silence, securing everything beneath a tarp in the trees, then jump back in the boat for another trip.

It's a day filled with labor, the weight of supplies heavy as we trek between islands, ferrying essentials to our makeshift camp at the edge of Falcon Island. The sun beats down relentlessly, yet the silence between us is heavier. Riley and I carry our burdens in tandem, and her eyes reveal a shared mix of hope and hurt. I want to ask her where she is going when she looks off into the distance, but we have too much to do.

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