Page 34 of Hate Wrecked

Despite being able to work together as a team, the tension between us is still palpable. Riley insists she'd be fine, but I can see through her bravado. The challenges of island life would be harsh on her.

“You’re wrong. I would be fucking fine, Rowan.”

“Maybe you would be,” I reply, my attention focused on our task.

As we dismantle the tent, I feel Riley's gaze on me. The dynamic between us has shifted, and I can't help but wonder if this is how we communicate now, how we will communicate until we radio home. Volleying between delicate balance and hardened exchanges.

We spend the morning loading our lifeboat with supplies before pulling it ashore for our exploration of Falcon Island. I sense Riley's eagerness to move farther away from the captain’s body. The reality of our situation is sinking in, and decisions about our future on this atoll will demand careful consideration.

When we finish, I smile at her, hoping for forgiveness so we can move forward as a team.

She smiles grimly at me in return.

“Are you ready?”

She glances down at her tennis shoes, checks the small rucksack on her back, and nods.

“Let’s check out the airstrip then,” I reply, jogging ahead.

There’s a dilapidated old airstrip just beyond the clearing. Riley runs ahead, gazing at the sky as if she could summon a plane by sheer will. I don’t want to crush her optimism, but no plane is coming.

Not to this place.

She spins in a circle, shielding her eyes from the sun. “When do you think this was used last?”

“I’m not sure,” I reply, catching up to her.

She looks over at me. “Why don’t you know?”

“I’m sure it’s in my notes, back home.”

She drops her hands, looking down the runway. “What will you write about, exactly? About the murders? Or?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Not a true account, but maybe use it as inspiration.”

“You could write about this,” she says, motioning between us.

“This what?”

“Us being stranded here.”

“We’ll be picked up in a day or two. We just have to find a radio. Not much to write about there.”

Her eyes darken as she looks away. That’s a lie. We both know that’s a lie. Our ship crashed into the reef. A man died. We buried him. That’s not nothing. It’ll never be nothing; we will carry scars for the rest of our lives.

I want to apologize, but I don’t. So, instead, I just keep walking, taking the lead. Riley rushes to catch up.

This is where we need to be: Falcon Island, where Gerald lived for years. I cast fleeting glances at the shore and the ocean beyond. It’s breathtaking out here, but I can’t appreciate it. I need to get Riley back home safely to her family, to the people who love her. I need to atone for this grave mistake.

I’ve been trying to keep a brave face for Riley, but an unsettling feeling is churning deep inside me. I’m afraid something terrible is going to happen. I can feel the disappointment building within. I felt this way as a child, that I could sense terrible news before it happened. I was always right, though my mother said that wasn’t true. Maybe she thought I was making it up, but I can feel dread in my bones before the nightmares begin.

“This is amazing,” Riley exclaims next to me. “Airplanes land on this? I would freak out if I were on a plane landing on this.”

The ground beneath us is solid, but vegetation has begun to take over, growing through the cracks.

When I look at Riley, she’s smiling, her eyes alive. Maybe she doesn’t feel the dread, the knowledge that this island won’t be our salvation.

I hate to take that from her. So, I point ahead. “I think there’s something you’ll like at the end of this runway.”

---