Beyond the Sea (9 page)

“
This is as good a place as any, I guess?” Troy asked.

“
I think so.” Brian motioned to the trees about fifteen feet away. “Far enough that we won’t risk a forest fire, but still away from the tide. Here, let me help.”

Troy wanted to say no, but had a feeling Brian would protest more strongly this time. “I’ll bring the wood, and you can arrange it. Do you know anything about making fires?”

“
We went camping most summers when I was growing up. I was a Boy Scout too.” He half smiled. “Pretty sure I got my fire badge. I’ll dig a pit.”

Once they had a good pile of wood and palm fronds in their shallow pit, Brian got out the magnifying glass. The sun was clear of the trees now, bright and powerful.

“
Let’s try this. Save the matches.” Biting his lip, he held out the glass, moving it until he was satisfied with the angle.

They knelt there, watching and waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

“
Maybe we should use a match,” Troy whispered. It felt like if he spoke too loudly, he’d somehow jinx the fire.

“
One more minute. I think it’s close.”

It was more like five minutes, but finally a thin line of smoke rose from the pile of fronds. It was barely anything at all, but slowly it thickened. Then, with a soft
whoomp,
the dry leaves ignited.

“
Yes!” Troy pumped his fist.

With a grin, Brian kept the glass steady and leaned over to blow gently on the burgeoning flames. They watched as the fire spread, finally catching the wood and not just the palm leaves. Gray smoke trailed into the sky, and Troy said a quick prayer that it would be spotted soon.

A swell of optimism filled him. Maybe they’d be rescued in a few days! Sure, they were a needle in a haystack, but the sky was so clear someone would see the smoke. They could have a nice shower and hot meal, sleep in comfy beds. He watched the smoke and daydreamed.

Then his stomach growled.

Right. Not rescued yet. They needed to try fishing. And maybe… Troy gazed at the brown lumps scattered near the tree line and went to grab one, turning it over in his hands, the husk dry and rough on his skin. “Hungry?” he asked Brian.

Brian glanced up, poking the fire with a stick. “Oh, good. You know how to open one?”

“
No clue. You?”

“
Uh-uh. I’ve drunk coconut milk and eaten macaroons, but I’ve never bought an actual coconut.”

“
Me either. I’ve never really cooked. I can heat stuff and make toast or whatever. But my mom still brings us a ton of food when we’re home, and on the road we have catering for…well, for everything.” He’d wanted to take control of his life, and here was his chance. He would feed himself, damn it.

The good thing about coconuts was that they appeared to be plentiful on the island. The bad thing about coconuts was getting the freaking things open. Even with the knife, Troy had a feeling he was more likely to lose a finger than get inside to the milk and juicy flesh.

He hefted the coconut and shook it. There was definitely liquid sloshing around inside, which he assumed was a good sign. On one end of the coconut, there were three little indentations. “I guess this is the top? Or the bottom.”

Turning the fruit, he found a natural seam around the middle and poked at it. He gently dug in the knife and tried to cut. No dice. The knife sawed through a bit of the husk, but he had to use all his strength just to make a tiny bit of progress. “Man. This is hard. Maybe I should try to peel the brown stuff off?”

“
Can’t hurt.” Brian shifted logs around. “I think you can crack coconuts? In half.”

“
Like, with a rock or something?”

“
Worth a try.”

Troy peeled off as much as the husk as he could. The coconut was a pale brown now, with the three distinctive dents on one end, presumably from where it had been attached to the tree. He found a good-sized rock just inside the jungle. After propping up the coconut in the sand, he raised the rock. “Here goes nothing.” He slammed it down, aiming for the seam.

Nothing.

Grunting, he tried again.

Nothing.

Just when he was ready to accept defeat a few minutes later, the coconut gave way an inch. “I think I’m getting somewhere,” he muttered. Yes, there was definitely a opened crack. He turned the coconut a bit and hit it again. Using the knife, he tried to pry it open. “Jesus, this thing is tough.” He cracked it again and pried. “Holy shit!” The coconut split neatly in half, splashing his hands with pale liquid. Quickly, he held up both sides so no more would spill.

“
Nicely done!” Brian grinned.

It didn’t smell particularly inviting. Not sweet, like he’d expected. “I guess this is coconut milk? Looks more like water. Oh, that’s a thing too, isn’t it? Coconut water.”

“
I guess we should try it.” Brian took half the coconut and sipped. He screwed up his nose. “Ugh. Kind of tastes like… I don’t know what.”

Troy sipped from his half shell, grimacing. “Dirty water?”

Brian laughed, a low rumble that somehow eased the sharp edges of tension in Troy’s chest. Troy found himself smiling, wanting to hear that laugh again.

“
Well, we know it’s locally sourced,” Troy said. “Totally organic. Could probably make a fortune selling these at Whole Foods.”

Brian did laugh again, his shoulders rising and falling and a smile tugging his lips. “Sounds about right. They probably add a shit ton of sugar to the bottled coconut water. But the meat inside doesn’t look rotten, and it smells okay. I think it’s fine. There are nutrients, so we should drink it.”

Troy took another mouthful, grateful most of it had splashed out. Using the knife, he awkwardly carved out some of the white meat and passed that side of the coconut to Brian, taking Brian’s half and carving it up too.

Brian waited until he was finished to put a chunk into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “It tastes like…”

After chewing his own piece, Troy said, “Soap?”

That low, deep laughter was music to Troy’s ears. Brian took another bite. “It’s not terrible, though. Maybe if we cook some later, it’ll taste better.”

“
At least it’s fattening. Lots of calories in coconut. It’s on my trainer’s list of fruits I’m not even allowed to look at.” Troy ate a bit more and read the instructions on the signaling mirror. “Hopefully we’ll only be here a few days, and then we can have our coconut with sugar again.”

“
Yeah.” Brian bent his head and ate more, the laughter gone.

Troy gazed out to sea, shielding his eyes with his hand. All he could see was a world of blue, broken only by the distant horizon.

Pushing up the wide brim of his fisherman’s hat, Brian tipped his head back and squinted. The cliff wasn’t quite a sheer face where it rose out of the jungle, but it was close. The dull throb of a headache that wouldn’t go away spiked behind his eyes. His sunglasses had been in the cockpit, lost now.

At least he was out of his dank uniform and into cargo shorts and a fresh shirt. He wore a white tank top the Aussies would call a singlet and Americans an undershirt. The other black tank top he’d packed stretched across Troy’s broad chest. He’d only been planning to spend a day in LA, but always packed a few extra clothes in case.

Troy was a little shorter than Brian, but muscular and more defined. The navy board shorts Brian had given him were a tight fit, but they’d do.
He’ll lose weight soon enough
, he thought grimly.

He’d volunteered for search and rescues a few times since he’d moved to Australia, and he knew how hard it was to actually spot anything from a search plane. The ocean was a frighteningly big place, especially when you were lost in it. At least they were on land and not a life raft. That was a huge advantage.

“
There’s no way, man.” Troy shook his head, the bandanna almost blinding in its orangeness. “No way.”

“
I did some abseiling in the Blue Mountains, but this is way out of my league. Also, we don’t have any ropes.”

“
Some what?”

“
It’s another word for rappelling. That’s what they called it.”

Brian scanned the rock for hand and foot holds. After failing in a quest to find a fresh water supply in the area near the beach, Brian had napped while Troy kept an eye on the fire. Despite his headache and the glare, Brian was feeling better, so they decided to see if it was possible to get on top of the cliff and light a fire up there.

Chirps and rustles and the odd squawk filled the silence, the jungle a living, breathing thing, smelling of earth and sweet moisture. From the corner of his eye, Brian could see Troy anxiously looking left, right, and behind them regularly.

Brian gazed up again. They didn’t want to stray too far from the beach, and there seemed to be no end to the steepness of the cliff. No sloping hill that led to the top. It was as though the rock had exploded violently from the earth, jutting up stubbornly. From what he knew about the formation of volcanic islands, it probably had.

“
What was that?” Troy asked sharply. “There’s something on the ground.” He lifted his feet, left and then right, repeating the little standing dance as he stared at the fallen leaves and twigs and jerked his head around. He wore Brian’s flip-flops, the only other shoes Brian had packed. They were good quality at least, not cheap plastic. Still, he had to admit he felt more secure in his leather shoes, which had been a size too tight for Troy.

Brian peered down. “I don’t see anything. Just walk carefully.” He winced. “Sorry, I know that’s terrible advice.”

Troy snorted. “Thanks for these, though. Much better than being barefoot and wearing my smelly stuff.”

“
Of course.”

“
Good thing we got your suitcase off the plane.” He smiled teasingly. “And you’ve got that stylish hat.”

Brian grinned. “I sure do. My grandfather’s Tilley. This thing is damn near indestructible.” He took off the worn khaki hat and spun it in his hands. “A good hat is a must in the tropics.”

“
Your grandfather’s? That’s cool.”

“
Yeah.” Brian suddenly thought of their last camping trip. He could almost taste the s’mores all these years later; smell the campfire and hear the old songs he could never sing well, but still knew by heart. Shaking it off, he plopped the hat back on his head. “We’ve gone pretty far. I don’t think this cliff is climbable. We should get back to the beach to check the fire and use the signaling mirror.”

Troy gazed around again nervously. “Good idea. I like the beach better.”

Brian led, pushing back the leaves and generally making a racket he hoped would send anything scurrying out of their way.

“
Hey, should we write something in the sand? Like, SOS or whatever?”

“
Absolutely. Great idea. We can search for rocks.” At the very least, it would keep them busy. Brian wanted to curl up in the shade and sleep until his headache subsided, but the early hours and days of a search and rescue were vital. They had to do everything they could to attract attention if they were lucky enough to have search planes in their quadrant.

His stomach churned. They were so far away. The odds of being found were astronomical. He tried to shake the thought loose.
We’re alive. Take it one day at a time.

At the beach, they added more wood and leaves to the fire, creating as much smoke as possible. Brian eyed their meager collection of worldly items. “We need something to catch rain. I guess my carry-on is the biggest container we have.”

Troy peered at the clear blue sky. “Doesn’t look like there’ll be rain today.”

“
I think it usually comes in short bursts this time of year. I guess we’ll see.”

“
Hopefully they’ll find us soon and we won’t have to worry about it.”

It was good Troy was so optimistic, even if Brian didn’t share the feeling. “I’ll get the suitcase emptied out just in case.” They still had several plastic bottles of water that he’d grabbed from the plane, but he really hoped it rained soon. Drinking rainwater was far preferable to straining and purifying river water if they were lucky enough to find any.

Since his suitcase had been soaked, the contents were still damp. The tanks and shorts he and Troy wore had dried quickly in the heat after they’d put them on, but now he looked for somewhere to hang the sodden flannel blankets he’d grabbed. The listing palm trees along the edge of the jungle of course had no branches, but he used the orange rope as a clothesline, tying it between two trees.

“
I’m going to find some rocks.”

“
I’ll help you. I—” Brian straightened from where he’d been bending over and stumbled, his head spinning.

“
Whoa!” Troy was there, gripping his shoulders. “I think you’ve done enough. Sit. You can do the mirror.”

Brian wanted to argue—he shouldn’t let his passenger do the hard work—but the headache pulsed behind his eyes. “Okay. Be really careful with rocks. Might be spiders or something living underneath them. Don’t go far into the jungle. I really should come with you. I’m—”

“
You’re sitting down.” Troy pushed gently, but there was iron underlying his grasp. “Come on. Not too close to the fire.”