Castaways Ch. 01

"Fuckin' great," the leader said.

"What's your name, son?" John asked.

"Duane. This is Pacho and Manuel," he added.

"John Morrison. Either of you guys good swimmers? We could try to salvage some things from the plane while it's still possible?" John observed.

"You do it," Duane said. "We'll just wait for the rescue plane, John."

John didn't like the way he emphasized his name at the end. This guy had a major attitude problem and his two friends seemed perfectly willing to let him do all the talking and decision making for them. If they weren't rescued soon he might have to deal with at less Duane about something, he gathered reluctantly.

"It could be a while, maybe days before they find us. We need food and drinking water," John stated.

"Tell you what, old man. We'll take the girl and scope out the island while you search the plane for junk?" Duane claimed.

"The girl stays with me," John said forcefully.

"Want a piece too, huh? Suit yourself. She's not going to be much use anyway until she stops bawling over her dead mom," Duane proclaimed.

"You guys just leave her alone," John demanded.

"Or what, old man? You're going to fight us all ... ha," Duane said laughing, and the other two joined in.

Apparently the other two understood enough English to get the gist of the conversation. They also seemed to be as unfriendly as their apparent leader.

"Just leave her alone," John repeated.

"Fine ... for now. We'll just find the nearest resort on this island while you two search the fuckin plane," Duane said, still laughing at him. "Maybe we'll be nice enough to tell them where you are."

He got up and the others followed. The one guy grimaced in pain but managed to follow along as the three walked down the beach away from the girl and the plane. John watched them go as he moved back to the girl. He estimated them to be in their early twenties.

"Young lady?" he said to the still whimpering girl.

She didn't answer at first but finally said, "Yes."

"What's your name?"

"Meredith, but everyone calls me Em," the girl explained.

"Okay, Em. My name is John Morrison. Those other three are Duane, Manuel, and Pacho. Pacho is the one with the hurt arm. Duane is the bossy one. Stay clear of those guys though. I don't trust them," John stated.

"What do you mean?" Em asked sitting up. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

"They seem to have a chip on their shoulders and aren't friendly at all. They've gone off for now to scope out the island. If they find anyone they might let them know we're here," John said, emphasizing the word might.

"Would they really not tell?" Em asked.

"I wouldn't put it past them from what I've seen so far," John explained.

"What're we going to do?" Em questioned.

"I'm going to scavenge the plane for things we might need. Then we'll bury your mom," John said, but the last part he said quietly.

"Do we have to?" Em asked, starting to cry again.

"We need to leave her here and look around the island ourselves. If we can't find anyone, we'll need to prepare a shelter for the night. Hopefully I can find some food and water in the plane. It wouldn't be good to just leave her here on the beach."

"I suppose not," Em agreed.

John got up and walked down to the surf. He looked down the beach to the left and was aghast at what he saw. Three bodies had washed up on the shore several hundred yards down. He ran down there again noticing the pain in his ankles. They must have taken part of the force of the crash or been caught with his long legs under the seat in front. He reached the first body roiling in the surf. He pulled it from the waves onto the shore. It was the groom. The next was the old man and the last was the bride. He wanted to cry when he thought about them on their way to their honeymoon no doubt.

He dragged all three bodies together. He would need to bury them as well to keep the crabs and seabirds away from them. He looked further down but didn't see anything more. He ran back to the plane and dove into the surf. He swam to the plane. The tide was coming in, he thought, as he got to the door again. It was completely below water.

John dove down inside and surfaced in the plane. There was barely six inches of breathing room left in the top of the plane. He maneuvered through the plane looking for compartments and storage spots. Anywhere something of value might be stored. He found a box of plastic trash bags. He took one out and put the box with the rest inside the bag. He held it closed by the top to keep water out as he searched. He found his coat, the girl's coat, but left the mother's coat. He didn't see where those three guys had coats.

The tail section of the plane he was in rocked slightly in the waves as he tried to search further. He found the life vests but left those for now. He found an oxygen tank but left that too for now. He found a medical kit and flare kit and put both of those in his bag.

Working towards the back of the plane he discovered a hold compartment. He found a case of Pepsi and one of bottled water. It looked more like crew supplies than for passengers but he grabbed what he thought he could carry on this trip. When he was loaded down he headed back to shore.

John made four trips in all. He tried to get into the luggage compartment on the bottom of the plane to retrieve their suitcases but the door was partially buried in the sand and there was no way for him to move it. He did manage to get all the water and Pepsi on shore, ten life vests which he thought they might use for something, the oxygen tank, and a box full of small bags of peanuts. The flare kit proved to only have one flare and the gun itself left inside. He laid most everything out in the sun on plastic bags to dry. Finally he went to where Em sat by her mother.

"Em, we need to bury her now and the others too," John said softly.

"What others?"

John pointed to the pile of bodies down the beach. Em gasped as she saw them and nearly started to cry again. She helped John move her mother further up the beach. They went fairly far up to the tree line and out of the high water mark. John had found an empty coffee can in the plane and they used that and their hands to dig in the sand. It took nearly half an hour to get a deep enough hole. Em cried as John covered her mother with sand deep enough to keep the scavengers away.

Nearly exhausted they still couldn't stop and headed down the beach. It took over an hour, until close to dusk, to bury the other three. They made their way back to the plane and the gear they had scattered on the beach. They each downed a water bottle and opened several bags of the peanuts. The wrappers had kept them relatively dry.

John had been drying the flare gun out and loaded the one flare inside. He stuck it into the back of his pants. They each grabbed armfuls of the mostly dry things and carried them up into the tree line, leaving most of the life vests. John looked for a high spot to maybe make a camp. They trudged up a small hill of rocks among the palm trees. Em was being very helpful and showing more signs of life despite her obvious deep depression over her loss.

When they found a good spot for camp near some big rocks that would protect them from an east wind, they decided to camp there. They dropped their cargo and looked for drift wood and dried palm fronds to make some sort of shelter. As they looked, Em climbed up on the largest boulder so she could look around. When she got to the top she gasped loud enough for John to hear.

"What is it?"

"John, I see the other side of the island. It's not that big. I see those other three guys too. They are just sitting down on the beach not far from here. The island can't be more than a quarter mile wide," Em observed.

"Oh, gosh. That's what I feared," John said. "I couldn't remember any populated islands between Barbados and Saint Lucia.

John climbed up beside her. The rock was fifteen feet higher than their camp below and gave a good view of the surrounding area. It was nearly the highest point on the tiny island. Em was right, the island was tiny. Turning around on the flat top of the rock, John could see most of the island. It was maybe a mile long and about a quarter mile wide. The palm trees were thick in spots and the center of the island had a rocky spine but other than that it was like a big sandbar. Drinking water might be impossible to find and food very scarce too he realized.

John looked off in the distance in all directions. He couldn't see anything on the horizon that looked like land. He hoped in the light of morning there might be something he missed but doubted it. They were truly stranded on a deserted island. He hoped the search for them had already begun. The plane was long overdue in Saint Lucia. The alerts must have already gone out.

He thought about the possibilities of being stranded for days on this island with little to eat or drink and the likes of the three assholes to contend with. His wouldn't be an easy job playing protector to Em and parceling out the limited provisions. He felt like praying for a miracle and looked to the heavens.

"You're looking for search planes?" Em asked beside him.

"Yes," John said, not admitting to the prayer as well.

"Do you think they'll be here soon?"

"It's nearly dark, Em. I'd imagine they would start searching at first light," John professed.

"We have to stay here the night?"

"Yes, so let's get busy on that shelter before it gets too dark," John said, climbing down off the rock.

"John?" Em asked, having climbed down behind him, "can I stay near you tonight?"

"Sure."

"I just asked, because while you went back for my mother, those other guys were looking at me kinda funny, if you know what I mean?" Em claimed.

"I do, Em. Let's get started."

They gathered what driftwood they could find. Fortunately there appeared to be a fair amount so they didn't have to walk too far to find some good long pieces. John was trying hard to remember his army survival training skills. He found some vines they could use to tie things together. This hut wouldn't be pretty but with the fronds, driftwood, and plastic bags, they might just get something to cut the wind and keep any rain out.

Em had found some coconuts and brought them to show him. She held one under each arm as she called his name.

"John, look what I found."

John looked over and saw the coconuts she held under each of her arms, smiling at him. He gazed back and forth between them noticing more than the coconuts. It was getting cooler as the night came on and Em's nipples were getting stiff under her tank top from the cold. He let his eyes linger a little longer than necessary on her nice tits.

"That's great, Em. Are there a lot?" John asked.

"I see several more," Em claimed.

"Good, bring those with us. I wish I had a knife," John confessed.

They carried their finds back to the camp and began to work. It was basically dark now but an almost full moon helped them see a little. With the big rock as a back wall and with smaller rocks on either side, they set to work setting the driftwood to form rafters for their roof. The sloping down of the side rocks gave them a natural pitch forward. The only trouble with that was they would have to duck to enter the structure. John supported the smaller pieces of driftwood that couldn't bridge the eight foot span between the rocks on either side with more pieces as braces. He was able to sink those upright in the sand and tie them together with the vines to give them more strength.

The next phase was the roof. Fortunately they had plenty of large trash bags, nearly a full box of 25. John ripped half a dozen at the seams as best he could. He was again wishing for a knife. They lay those in an overlapping fashion from the entrance up to the big rock in back. John made sure the sides hung about a foot or more onto the side rocks which would cause rain water to run off rather than in. They left six inches of plastic bag, held flat against the back rock by fronds. When they felt they had a good waterproof underneath, they placed the remaining dried palm fronds on top of the plastic bags. They didn't have enough and scavenged for more.

Lastly, John ran vines over the top to secure the fronds and hopefully keep them in place so they would protect the plastic bags against wind. They used smaller rocks to hold down the edges of the plastic bags and fronds on the sides. Some rain might still get in, especially down the back rock but they would be mostly dry.

The front wall was the last part for them to work on. John sank more driftwood into the sand and braced them against the roof on the inside to allow an eave. He tied them off to the roof from underneath so they were secure. They allowed a two foot opening and planned to figure out a door later. The front wall was four feet high. Em was 5'6" and could get in by just ducking. John had to drop to his knees and crawl in.

The space inside was about six feet deep and eight feet wide. The hut was definitely not big enough for all of them. It was nearly pitch dark inside. Despite that, Em did the best job she could using the lifejackets to try to make beds for John and her. While she did that, John tried to make a fire. He made a pile of pieces of dried palm fronds and some shredded husks from one of the coconuts. Using a couple pieces of rock, he tried rubbing them together, hoping for a good spark. He had tried for five minutes when a flash illuminated about ten feet away. He looked up to see Duane with a lit cigarette.

"Need a light, old man?" Duane said smiling, with Pacho and Manuel nearby.

"That would be nice," John replied.

"Why should we help you? You obviously didn't build a big enough shack for us too."

"You could have helped or built your own," John suggested.

"We're not boy scouts like you," Duane said laughing and Pacho and Manuel joined him. "It was more fun watching you and the cunt work."

"Duane, watch your mouth, please," John said.

"Oh, it's okay for you to sleep with her but we can't call her a cunt. You act like she's your woman or something, Johnny boy."

"Look, you can help out or keep to yourselves, doesn't matter to me either way. Just don't interfere with what we're doing unless it's to help," John expressed.

Duane thought for a minute, fished in his pants pocket, and he threw a Bic lighter to John. John lit the coconut husk with the lighter and it caught well immediately. He let the palm fronds get going too before adding some smaller driftwood and old, broken coconut shells. The fire was going pretty good by the time John threw the lighter back to Duane.

"Want some water?" John asked.

"Where'd you find water on this island?" Duane asked.

"Not on the island, in the plane," John responded, tossing them three bottles.

"What else did you find?" Duane asked, as they each drank down the water.

"Not much," John answered, but knew Duane didn't believe him. "I couldn't get the luggage compartment open with the sand."

"Sure. What're we going to eat, Boy Scout?" Duane asked.

"I was going to try to open one of these coconuts once I got the fire going. You guys are welcome to have two of them if you want," John added.

"Fuckin' coconut. No thanks, Johnny boy. How about we just play with the girl a while and leave you to your nuts," Duane said, and the three all laughed.

"I told you, Duane, she's off limits," John exclaimed.

"How about we just beat your fuckin' ass and take her with us," Duane said, stepping forward a little with Pacho and Manuel too.

"I wouldn't advise trying that," John contented.

"You think you can take all three of us?" Duane boasted, laughing with Manuel and Pacho.

"Definitely you, Duane," John said standing up tall. "And Pacho's not going to be much use with a busted arm."

Duane's smile disappeared but came back when he said, "Manuel and I'll be enough to finish you."

"Yeah, maybe, but I'll take you out first," John claimed.

"And how do you think you're going to do that with the boys here to help?" Duane boasted.

"With this," John said, pulling the flare gun from the back of his pants and pointing it at Duane.

Surprise blanketed Duane's face momentarily but he recovered, "With just a flare gun," Duane said, laughing but with a tinge of nervousness.

"Yeah, one shot, but it's meant for you, Duane. You'll be a flaming candle with phosphorus all over you," John continued.

"It's still only one shot, if you hit me," Duane countered but definitely more worried now.

"I was a pretty good shot in the army," John stated. "You can try me if you want."

"Yeah ... maybe some other time," Duane said. "You have to sleep sometime."

"So do you and if I were you I'd be thinking more about where you're spending the night," John stated.

"This isn't over, Johnny boy," Duane proclaimed with a sneer and flicking his finished cigarette into the fire.

John stood there while the guys backed away and disappeared into the night. He waited for a while, listening to the sounds of them moving off. Content they we gone for now, he put the flare gun back in his pants, and ducked down to look into the hut. The light from the fire cast some light and shadows inside. Em was huddled in a back corner of the hut, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked very frightened.

"They're gone now," John said, trying to be reassuring.

"Duane's right, John. You have to sleep sometime," Em exclaimed fearfully.

"Don't worry, Em. I won't let them get near you," John claimed but even he knew that would be extremely tough.

"Please, John. Protect me from them," Em pleaded.

"I will. Here take this," he said handing her the flare gun. "Stay where you are while I do a few things."

"Where're you going?" Em asked nervously.

"Just going to tried to open some coconuts and get the rest of our stuff," John said. "Anyone but me comes through this door, shoot them with that."

"Okay," Em said weakly. "Please hurry back."

"I will."

John ran down to the beach. He didn't want to see Em have to use the flare gun, especially from inside the flammable hut. He grabbed the rest of the water, the case of Pepsi, the box of peanuts, their coats, and anything else he could carry. He made his way back quickly to the hut. He announced his return and handed all the items in to Em. She stowed them while he set to work trying to crack two coconuts on some rocks. It took a few minutes but he managed to crack both enough to use a hard end of a clamshell to break a piece off. He spilled some of the milky liquid inside but saved most.

He handed them inside to Em, restocked the fire with wood, and then crawled inside. The heat from the fire was starting to warm the inside of the hut a little. There wasn't much wind tonight but it still felt better inside the makeshift hut. The sky had looked clear so they might not have to worry about rain tonight.

"Try drinking the juice," John told Em.

She took one of the coconuts to her lips and sipped as he did the same. The milky, watery juice inside tasted somewhat sweet. John finished his and looked to Em. She was still sipping on hers. He smiled at her hoping to get her to relax. He climbed back out to grab the rocks he had used to crack the coconuts open. Upon reentering, he worked at the openings in the coconuts until he had broken a big piece off. He gave it to Em and took hers to do the same.

"Eat the coconut off the shell with your teeth," John contended. "You like coconut?"

"Yes," Em replied as she tried, getting some.

They ate some of the coconut and two bags each of the peanuts. They each had a Pepsi too. John observed the beds Em had made from the lifejackets. She had done a marvelous job and the beds actually looked somewhat comfortable. It was obvious too as to whose was whose. Her smaller one was back along the big rock. His was longer by one set of lifejackets and more in the middle, between her and the door. They were also pretty close together, more than necessary even in the tight space. They each had a lifejacket for a pillow.