Page 37 of Hate Wrecked

COLLATERAL DAMAGE

RILEY

I run to the plane,my excitement making me skip and hop. I can hear Rowan laughing behind me, and when I turn around, I see the ghost of a smile lingering at the edges of his full lips, the white of his teeth on display. He’s so beautiful when he lets go.

“I want to fly one day,” I admit, tentatively reaching for the plane door. It’s a good thing I’ve had my tetanus shot…

“Like your father? Is that what you mean?” Rowan asks, approaching the plane from the other side.

“Yeah.” I nod, opening the door slowly. I duck down and peer inside; the cockpit glass is coated in dust and grime. On the other side of the plane, Rowan peers inside, cupping his hands.

I pull back, shutting the door delicately. “It’s too gross in there to sit down.”

“Don’t you want to play pilot in a World War II plane?” Rowan asks, stepping away from the rust.

“I’ve seen enough of the small creatures living in this island’s dark places. No thanks.” I take a few steps back, admiring the plane. “It’s beautiful, though. Not meant to be here. Meant to be in the sky, flying away.”

“No planes like that are still flying,” Rowan laughs.

“You know what I mean. It wasn’t meant to die here,” I trail off. Like the captain. Like the woman who came here in the 70s. Like all those sailors from the 1800s. What a beautiful curse this place is.

“Yeah. I do,” Rowan says, kicking a rock and staring at the expanse of ruin before us.

“How much work do you think they’ll have to do here before the research can start?” I ask.

“A lot. It’s a mess. People have trespassed here for years.”

I clear my throat, earning his gaze.

He smirks. “Like we did, yes.”

“This is what we get.”

“This is whatIget. You were just collateral damage. You didn’t know.”

“I knew where I was supposed to be. On a plane, flying away from this ocean. But I chose to go with you. To be with you here.”

“For a few days, yeah.”

I roll my eyes, not ready for another of Rowan’s epic guilt trips he plays on himself. “Let’s see what else we can find,” I test.

Rowan follows me, his hand in the pockets of his shorts, his eyes glancing at the sky from time to time. I watch the wrinkles around his eyes; the melancholy in his stare weighs on me. Maybe I want to be here alone with him for a little longer. Maybe I don’t want rescue to come just yet.

“We would hear it before we saw it,” I chastise him.

He shakes his head, looking away from the blue above us to the trail ahead.

* * *

We come upon a white, two-story building—dilapidated and worn by the elements. I sprint ahead, hearing Rowan call out. “Be careful.” It’s instinct to protect me.

I slow my pace, halting my steps. I can almost see his eyes rolling.

There is one large building and four smaller buildings surrounding it. A shed appears to be behind the main structure. On the side of the largest building, someone has paintedHilton.I chuckle.Yeah right.Like any of the Hiltons would dare to stay somewhere so derelict, I think as I rush to the building, my legs aching.

I hear Rowan catch up. “Wait, let me look in first.” He reaches for the axe on his hip, his hand moving toward the doorknob in slow motion. I watch from behind him. This isn’t a horror movie—well, not like the ones I grew up watching. Jason or Michael Myers aren’t going to jump out of the building, but my heart still starts to race as Rowan jiggles the lock. When it doesn’t budge, he grabs the axe at his hip. With the butt of the axe, he carefully applies pressure to the stubborn door, and the wood creaks in response, resisting the force. Rowan adjusts his stance and tries again with the edge of the axe, pushing it between the frame and the door. Finally, it opens, and Rowan turns to me, a triumphant smile on his face as he says, "After you."

The door creaks, revealing only darkness when he opens it fully. The bright Pacific sun streams through the windows, and I stay close behind Rowan as he enters. It smells dank, and I scrunch up my nose before saying, “Done that a time or two before?”

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