Beyond the Sea (18 page)

After putting the pole and basket in their places, Brian took off his hat and wiped his sweaty brow with his arm. Unzipping the suitcase, he refilled his bottle. They were getting low, so he hoped it rained again that night. The warm water was somehow refreshing as he gulped it down, although he would have killed for the glory of an ice cube or five.

He stuck his head into the teepee. Empty. Whatever Troy was up to, he’d be back soon. Brian eyed the tide. In the meantime, he should catch dinner.

He fished for the next twenty minutes as the afternoon waned, glancing over his shoulder every so often with a frown. He finally snagged a nice big fish and hurried back to the beach. At the edge of the jungle, he squinted. “Troy! Everything okay in there?”

Silence. Well, silence but for the opening strains of the chorus of insects that serenaded them each night. He’d stopped wearing his watch, but was pretty sure it was just past six. The sun was on its way to the horizon, a ball of fire that sent pink waves over the few clouds scattered in the sky. It would be dark soon.

Brian’s heart thumped dully. He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Troy!”

Only the low hum of insects answered.

“
It’s fine. I’m sure he’s fine.” And now Brian was talking to himself. Even if Troy was pissed, he surely wouldn’t go exploring the dense expanse of jungle as night fell. They’d avoided exploring too far past the beach for a reason.

Pacing back to the smoldering signal fire, Brian threw on a few fresh logs and prodded until they were ablaze. He hadn’t noticed the fire had gotten so low. How long had Troy been gone? The nag of worry swelled, flooding his belly with acid as he stared at the shadowy tangle of the jungle, willing Troy to appear.

The setting sun cast the trees in a fiery glow. Brian found himself at the edge of the trees again. “Troy!”

As his pulse thrummed, he peered down the beach to make sure Troy hadn’t come out of the jungle farther down. The sand remained empty.

He was alone.

“
Careful what you wish for,” he muttered, grabbing the flashlight from the teepee. The beam was solid and bright, and he’d have to hope the batteries would last.

At the tree line, he paused, listening. The distant crackle of the signal fire joined the insects’ harmony. “Troy!” Could he be hiding close by? Trying to prove some point?

No. Troy wouldn’t do that. Brian had only known the guy for twenty days, which seemed utterly impossible, but it didn’t seem like something Troy would do. Not given how dangerous it could be in the jungle at night. And how frankly terrifying. The fact that Troy hadn’t taken the flashlight indicated he hadn’t planned to be in the jungle this long.

Brian’s mind raced. Could Troy have gone the other way around the island and be on the opposite side? No, the cliff face and treacherous rocks made passing around this end treacherous unless you swam and—

He inhaled sharply, whirling around to face the placid, retreating water, panic rising like a ringing in his ears. Had Troy gone swimming? What if he’d drowned?
Oh God, please let him be okay. Please, please, please.

Brian’s calves ached as he ran through the sand. In the fading light of sunset, he scanned the ocean’s surface. Would a body float? Would it already be gone out to sea on some current? Eaten? What if Troy had gone too far?

His chest heaving, he spun back to face the jungle. There was no sign of Troy anywhere. There was no way to know. But if Troy was in the jungle, Brian could look there. He could at least
do
something.

Sand flying, he rushed back to camp and filled his water bottle before jamming it in his pocket and squinting for his flip-flops at the door of the tent.

Flip-flops.

They were missing. Troy had them, which meant he surely went into the jungle. Relief that he wasn’t lost in the ocean surged through Brian.
Okay, this is something. This is good.
He tugged on socks and laced up his black leather shoes, swearing as he struggled with the bow. Then he shrugged into his tank top, since it would at least provide some protection from creeping branches.

Get him. Now. Find him.

“
Troy!” Brian’s shout was swallowed by the humid maw of the jungle as he shoved dense foliage aside. The beam of the flashlight only penetrated a few feet. He pushed on, heading first for the little cave where they’d ridden out the storm. It was against the cliff on his left, so he’d search systematically.

It was empty, of course. Keeping the beam on the ground, Brian started toward the right before jerking to a halt. How deep should he go? He and Troy hadn’t explored much of the jungle after finding the stream, since it seemed likely full of things that wanted to bite, scratch, trip, and otherwise harm them.

He’d guessed the width of the island was a mile, give or take, which didn’t sound like much to navigate until you were in a pitch-black jungle with leaves and branches brushing you, surrounded by the heartbeat of crawling, slithering, flying, living things, musky earth filling the air.

“
Troy
!”

Deciding Troy likely wouldn’t have gone too deep, Brian started south, swatting at a vine and trying to ignore the chirps and squawks and periodic rustling. He was profoundly grateful for his solid shoes.

The minutes ticked by, and Brian’s stomach churned. Even with the heat of the day dissipating, sweat dripped into his eyes and collected in the small of his back. Troy was okay. He’d find him. Maybe he was worrying for nothing. Troy was a grownup, and he could take care of himself. He was probably back at the beach already, wondering where Brian was. Maybe Brian should return and wait so they didn’t miss each other. Maybe he was overreacting.

He stopped and listened. A creature hooted, and blood rushed in his ears. No, something was wrong. He had to find him.
Now.

The prospect of being alone on the island sent a tremor through Brian as he pushed on through the black. But more than the terror of being truly alone was the thought that Troy was hurt—or worse. Circumstance might have thrown them together, but they were a team. Brian hadn’t realized how isolated he’d made himself in Australia. How much he’d missed having a
friend
.

His chest tightened unbearably to think that something had happened. Shit, he should have sucked it up and stayed at camp, and now they’d be sitting around the fire like usual, talking about…what did they usually talk about? Brian didn’t even know. Nothing. Everything. Usually Troy talked and he listened, and God, he’d give anything to do that right now, to hear Troy unconsciously humming as he cracked coconuts, a constant little twinkle of music in the air.

Slapping at mosquitoes, Brian cast the flashlight’s beam left and right and all around. “Troy!”

Brian froze in his tracks. Insects whined and something warbled. He listened intently, his mouth dry and heart in his throat. There had been something else…

“
Brian!”

Oh, thank fuck.
With a whoosh, he exhaled and stormed toward Troy’s faint voice. “Troy! Where are you?” He stopped again to listen.

“
Here!” It was distant, muffled by the damn trees and vines and endless suffocating green.

“
Keep talking! I’m coming.”

He tripped over something and almost dropped the flashlight, swearing. Troy’s voice was thin and reedy, and he repeated Brian’s name in hoarse gasps that didn’t seem to grow much louder as Brian tried to zero in on him. Finally the light flashed over Troy collapsed on the jungle floor.

“
What happened?” Brian sucked in a breath as he dropped to his knees. He shone the light over Troy, whose face glistened with sweat and what could only be tears. He wore the board shorts and black tank top, his hand twisting in the cotton as he trembled.

“
It hurts. I don’t know what it was. Stinging in my toe, and then it was burning.” He gasped. “It won’t stop burning!”

Brian whipped the light down. Troy had one knee pulled up and his right leg extended. As the light reached his foot, Brian’s breath caught. “Jesus Christ.” The words hissed out before he could stop them.

Troy whimpered. “It’s bad.”

Bad
didn’t begin to cover it. Troy’s foot and ankle were a furious red, swollen at least double their size, the flip-flop looking tiny in comparison. He’d clearly been bitten by something. Brian stared at the horribly inflamed flesh and could only imagine how excruciating it must feel.

He fumbled for the bottle of water. “Drink.” Inhaling, Brian remembered his pilot training.
Locate, assess, delegate, perform.
He forced his fingers to calmly unscrew the lid and tip the bottle to Troy’s dry lips. “There you go. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

After a few gulps, Troy coughed and shook his head. “Must have been poisonous. We don’t have any medicine.”

“
Did you get a look at it?” Although his heart hammered painfully, Brian kept his voice smooth.
Just like on the flight deck. This is your captain speaking. I’m in control of everything.
Because he had to be the captain now.

He’d located the problem: insect or reptile bite or sting causing massive swelling and pain. His assessment was that Troy was in serious trouble. There was no first officer or flight attendant for delegation, so it was up to him to do it all. It was up to him to fix this.

“
I saw a flash of something moving away in the dirt, but I don’t know what it was. Could have been anything.” Troy squeezed his eyes shut, his nostrils flaring. “It burns. Fuck.”

“
Let’s get back to the beach. You’re going to be okay.” If it had been a poisonous snake, surely Troy would have been dead by now, bloating in the heat, insects descending…

Stop!

Shoving the awful images away, Brian refocused. Troy was still alive. He was there, shivering under Brian’s touch. Possible suspects tumbled through Brian’s mind. Were there scorpions in the Pacific? He knew they lived in the Aussie outback, but had no idea where else. Did they only live in the desert? And there were spiders, of course. Hell, it could have been anything. No point in worrying about it now when there was no answer.

Something tickled his calf, and he slapped at it. They had to get out of the jungle. But would moving Troy make it worse? They couldn’t stay here. There wasn’t enough water, and something else could come along and bite. Dawn was a lifetime away. He had to get Troy on his feet. Well, foot.

“
Hang on to me. Put all your weight on your left foot, okay?” Crouching, Brian stuck the flashlight in one of his pockets and held Troy beneath his sweaty armpits. “On three. One, two—up!” Brian heaved him to standing, Troy crying out in agony.

Troy sucked in a shaky breath, trembling violently. “So afraid I’d die here by myself. I tried to walk. Couldn’t.”

Without another thought, Brian wrapped his arms around him. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Sobbing, Troy clung to him, his tears soaking Brian’s neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“
Don’t be.” He concentrated on that even, calming tone. “You’re going to be okay.” He rubbed Troy’s back steadily.

“
I can’t stop crying.” Troy hiccupped.

Troy trembled in his arms, and Brian held him close. “I’ve got you.” He wished he could carry him back to their camp, but didn’t think he was strong enough. Gently, Brian eased back.

“
Let’s get your right arm over my shoulders. Use me as a crutch. That’s it. One step at a time.”

“
Which way?” Troy whimpered and tried another step.

Shit. Great question.
“Uh…” Brian waved the light around. Jungle. Jungle. Jungle. More jungle. Which way had he come from? It all looked the same now. He should have paid better attention, but once he’d heard Troy’s voice, he’d rushed forward without thinking.

Looking up, he switched off the light. Oppressive darkness surrounded them. But wait—he could see the odd star through the tangle of leaves. Using the flashlight, Brian found what he hoped was a good climbing tree before maneuvering Troy to lean against the trunk, wishing there was something he could do to take away Troy’s pain.

“
Just hold on for a minute. Keep your weight off your foot. I’m going to take a look.” He shone the light up into the branches, and no yellow eyes flashed back at him. It was as good an invitation as he was going to get.

The trunk grated at his thighs and hands as he climbed. After hauling himself onto a thick limb, Brian picked his way up until there was enough of a parting in the leaves to see the constellations. He turned his head this way and that until he was sure.
Thank God for the Southern Cross
.

He managed to climb back down without breaking his neck, keeping the flashlight pointed west. “Ready?” He slung his left arm around Troy’s back.

“
Uh-huh,” Troy rasped.

They took a few steps, and Troy cried out sharply.

“
Lean on me as much as you can. I’m your crutch, remember?”

Troy gripped Brian more tightly and leaned in, his panted exhalations hot on Brian’s ear.

“
That’s it,” Brian soothed. “I’ve got you.”

Step by agonizing step, it seemed like hours before they glimpsed the light sand of the beach beyond the jungle’s thick leaves. The water bottle was long empty, and sweat drenched them both. Brian’s arms ached—one from pointing the flashlight in the right direction, the other from supporting Troy’s bulk. Troy had quietened to sharp breathing and the odd cry of agony.