Horizons (5 page)

“In your dreams,
hombre.”

With Roberts secured to the tree, they located enough dry driftwood to start a fire. In the course of their search
they discovered a banana palm, and several coconuts which they cracked open on a nearby rock. The milk tasted like nectar to their parched pallets.

Sufficiently revived, at least temporarily, Zach announced, “I’m going to walk down the beach and see if I can find a road, or a house, or any indication of civilization.” He pointed toward the south. “I’ll go this way. Daniels, you try north. We’ll meet back here. Benson, you watch over the others until we get back. Keep a particularly sharp eye on our prisoner.”

“Won’t you need light? A torch or something?” Kelly asked.

Zach looked skyward. “We should be able to see fairly well if we stay out in the open. The clouds have passed over, and there’s supposed to be a full moon tonight.”

Blair grimaced. “I should have known better than to fly during a full moon. Nothing good ever happens to me during a full moon.”

“I love a full moon,” Alita intoned with a smirk. “It makes everything so
romantico,
so much more exciting.”

“The better to ride your broom, my dear?” Benson inquired mockingly.

Alita rounded on him. “You shut up, you little wimp!’ She threw the remnants of one shoe at him, narrowly missing his head. “In truth, you are probably just jealous. But I am used to that. Everyone is envious of me.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “You’re really going to have to work on that inferiority complex of yours.”

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Zach said with a parting wave. “Hopefully, with help.”

“And food.”

“And water.”

“Wait!” Alita hopped to her feet, flinging her other shoe aside. “I’m coming with you.”

Zach was already several paces away. “You’d do better
g
o stay with the others,” he tossed back over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around. “This isn’t an evening stroll. I’m not going to slow my pace for you.”

“I’ll keep up,” Alita assured him, huffing to catch up.

“Probably afraid she’ll miss happy hour,” Blair grumbled.

On hearing this, Roberts called out
. “Hey! Send a six-
pack back for me!”

“All they’re gonna send for you is the local constable, or whatever passes for the law around here, to arrest you again. I know I will,” Daniels said as he set off down the beach in the opposite direction.

“Now, where’s the Ku Klux Klan, when ya really need ’em?” Roberts shot back.

“Under the sheets?” The words just popped out of Kelly’s mouth before she could help it.

Roberts glared at her for a moment. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he started to chuckle. Blair joined in. Soon all of them were laughing, except Wynne. After all that had happened to them, the laughter, even intermingled with fear and anger and anguish, felt so good.

I
t seemed indecent, after such tremendous disaster, that the sunset over the ocean that evening should be so spectacularly beautiful, painting the tropical landscape in bright hues of orange and crimson. The sun, a huge red ball, seemed literally to sink into the sea—and as suddenly as if someone had lowered a curtain on a stage, it was as dark as midnight.

Fortunately, they had the fire and the fruit, though they had yet to locate any source of fresh water nearby. The baby was fussing again, though she’d been extremely good most of the day. Blair was holding the toddler, trying to get her to eat a banana.

“Poor tyke, she’s almost too tired to eat,” Blair commented. She glanced toward the tree where Roberts was tied and whispered to Kelly, “Has it occurred to you that our fearless leader has left us alone here with a murderer, with only Mr. Benson and his broken leg to protect us? What if that maniac manages to break loose and attack us?”

“Right now, I’m too tired and too busy to care,” Kelly admitted. “In fact, if someone offered to strangle me this minute, I’d almost be grateful.”

“Yes, but he could beat us, or rape us, or anything!” Blair went on, her eyes wide with worry.

“If he’s got enough energy left for that, more power to him,” Kelly replied grumpily. “Personally, I’m too pooped to pop. Don’t work yourself up over it. The man is effectively out of commission.”

Kelly was currently more concerned about her “patients” than any threat from Roberts. She squatted down beside the unconscious woman, who was laboring with every breath she drew. Every now and then, the woman would go into a spasm of coughing, spewing fresh blood. “I know she must have internal injuries, maybe a pierced lung. I wish Zach would hurry back with some help, preferably an entire medical team. I feel so helpless, just sitting here un
able to do anything for her…
for them.”

She adjusted the blanket over the shivering woman and crawled to the teenager. “This kid will be lucky if he makes it. He took a real whollop to the head, and hasn’t shown any sign of regaining consciousness all day. And if the needle marks on his arms are any indication, he’s either into drugs or diabetic.”

“
Have you checked for a wallet? Or a medical alert tag?
”
Wynne inquired in another rare burst of lucid speech.

“Good idea.” There was no tag, but among other I.D. in his wallet, Kelly found a medical alert card. “Damn! He
is diabetic! God only knows when he had his last shot of insulin! No wonder he’s in shock. For all I know, he could already be in a coma.”

“Probably better off that way than awake and in agony,” Frazer Benson remarked, not without sympathy. He handed Kelly another portion of coconut, advising her, “Do what you can for yourself. Eat. Drink. You need the fluid.”

The coconut milk was delicious and thirst-quenching. But getting the meat out was another matter. “Do you have a pocket knife, Frazer?” Kelly inquired.

He nodded. “Over there, tied to that stick we were using to hack weeds with,” he reminded her. He started to struggle to his feet, but Kelly gestured for him to stay put. “I’ll get it. You rest that leg.”

She got the knife, and began stabbing the coconut meat. “Let me get mine sliced up, and I’ll pass the ‘cutlery’ on.”

“You could check the boy’s pocket for another one,” Frazer suggested.

Kelly grimaced, but taking the steward’s advice, she did so as quickly and gently as she could. “God! I hate this! I feel like a blasted grave-robber!”

Without disturbing him unduly, she came up with another small pen knife. She tossed it to Blair, and kept the other. “You share with Wynne. I’ll take turns with Frazer.”

“What about me?” Roberts called out. “You just gonna let me sit here and starve?”

“You had some earlier, so don’t play on my sympathy,” Kelly responded callously.
“
You can have more when Zach and Gavin get back, because I’m not about to get that close to you, buster. Besides, you’re not going to starve. You could live for a week on the fat stored in that beer gut of yours.”

After she’d finished eating, Kelly offered to rebind
Blair’s ankle and Wynne’s ribs. Blair had previously; removed her tennis shoes, and was feeling some relief already. Wynne, modest as she was, was reluctant to unbutton her blouse in front of the men.

Roberts was now asleep, or f
eigning it. Either way, it was
only a matter of shifting out of his limited field of view. Frazer was another concern entirely, at least to Wynne’s mind.

“I’ll close my eyes,” he promised.

“
How do I know you won’t peek?” the elderly lady countered warily.

Benson grinned. “No offense ma’am, but you’re not at all my type.”

“Look, you young whippersnapper!” she shot back, showing her first real display of animation. “Just because there’s snow on the roof, doesn't mean there’s no fire in the furnace! Nonetheless, in fifty years of marriage, I’ve never wanted anyone but my James. So there! You’re not my type either, sonny!”

Kelly bit back a laugh. Unless she missed her guess, Frazer Benson was gay. Evidently, Wynne hadn’t caught those subtle signals, however. She’d bet a month’s income Alita had, though. And most everyone else in their small party.

She bound Wynne’s ribs, then turned to Benson. “You’re next. Let’s have a look at that leg.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s okay. It’ll wait until I can get to a hospital.”

“The least I can do is replace that dirty cloth you’ve wound around it, so you don’t risk infection any more than you have already.” She reached forward. “I know it hurts. I’ll be as gentle as possible. I promise.”

“I said no!” Benson shouted, scooting hastily backward. “Don’t touch it! If anything needs done to it outside an emergency room, I’ll tend to it myself.”

His scowl reminded Kelly of a wounded animal, one which could turn on her at any time. She held her hands up in a gesture of compliance. “Okay. Okay. Have it your way.”

He seemed to wilt in relief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
snap at you. It’s just that…
well, I can’t let you do
t
hat.”

Now Kelly was reading something else in his expression. Something beyond pain. More like a woeful warning. Suddenly it came to her. “Oh, no! Frazer, no!” she murmured.

She saw him swallow hard, and nod. “This was going to be my last flight. I was going to ground myself and take a desk job, where there was less contact with other people.”

Kelly dredged up a wan smile, and replied just as quietly. “Hey! Magic Johnson is HIV positive, and he’s still doing all right. Maybe it won’t escalate any further. Maybe with the right diet and medication it won’t become a full-blown case.”

“And maybe it will.” He held her gaze steadily, sadly.

“You’ve got to think positively,” she rebutted.

“And you, and everyone without rubber gloves, have got to keep their hands to themselves,” he stated firmly. “I don’t want that on my conscience. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to take anyone else with me.” He paused, then gave a rueful laugh. “So many perfectly healthy people died in that crash today, yet I lived. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Kelly just stared back at him, her face full of pity, not knowing what to say.

Chapter 5

G
avin Daniels returned to camp a short time later. Blair, the baby, and Wynne had fallen asleep. Only Kelly and Frazer were awake to welcome him with tense expressions. “No,” he said to their unvoiced question. He flopped onto the sand by the fire. “Not a soul, not a sound, no lights, cottages, or paths, or boats. Nothing. It was like walking on the moon, it was so deserted out there.”

“How far did you go?” Frazer asked.

“Three, maybe four miles I’d guess. As far as I could before I ran into a barricade of rocks where the mountain seems to jut right out into the sea. I couldn’t skirt around it, and I didn’t want to chance climbing over it in the dark.
If I’d fallen, the surf is pounding so hard on those rocks I’d have been hammered to a pulp.”
He glanced around. “I suppose Zach and Alita are still out there?”

“Yes.”

There was little else to say, and they fell into contemplative silence, listening to the crackle of the flames, the waves slapping rhythmically on the shore. Watching. Waiting. Wondering where Zach and Alita were, and if they were having better success. Trying not to think about the crash, but thinking about it anyway. Wondering if anyone besides themselves knew the plane had gone down—if their loved ones had been informed, if they were anxiously awaiting news, just as these few survivors were anxiously awaiting rescue.

They heard Alita long before she came into view. She was alternately cursing in Spanish and singing a song about washing some man out of her hair. She staggered the last few feet, and dropped to the ground like a limp doll.

“So, where’s Zach?” Gavin prompted when Alita didn’t volunteer any information.

“In hell, I hope,” Alita rasped irritably. “Caramba! I sound like a frog! I need something to drink.”

Kelly passed her a section of coconut.

Alita made a face. “I hate coconut! Give me some water.”

“The only water available is right behind you,” Kelly told her. “A whole ocean full of it. This isn’t the Hilton. It’s either coconut milk or nothing. Unless you’d prefer to suck on a banana.”

“Suck one yourself,” Alita retorted smartly. “Better yet, go suck a rotten egg.” Despite her aversion for it, Alita accepted the coconut. “Agh! This is awful!”

“Try pretending it’s a pina colada,” Frazer suggested.

“Try pretending you’re an invisible mime,” she snapped back.

“Look, snipe all you want, but tell us what happened. Did you and Zach find anything? Is he coming back?” This from Gavin, whose patience was at its end.

“He’ll be here when he gets damn good and ready, I suppose. And no, we didn’t find anything but sand and rocks and trees. That is why he went on, and I turned back.
That man! He doesn’t walk. He trots. He jogs. He just keeps going and going and going, like that stupid bunny in those commercials. I told him
to slow down. I told him I was ti
red, and hungry and dying of thirst. And what does he say? He tells me he warned me not to come along with him. And he just keeps walking!”

“How far did you go before you started back?”

“Clear to the end of the island, I think. The shoreline took a big curve to the left, and I couldn’t see any more land straight ahead.”

“How many miles?” Gavin pressed.

Alita scowled at him. “How the devil should I know?” She shook her wrist at him. It was adorned with a gold, diamond-encrusted watch. “Does this look like one of those things people wear when they run? No. I
t is a watch, not a… a…
”

“Odometer,” he supplied.

“Whatever. It tells time, not kilometers.”

“You didn’t see any lights? Any utility poles or wires? No footprints? Nothing?” Kelly asked despondently.

“Nada,
”
Alita repeated succinctly. “Not a blasted, blessed thing.”

“Did you and Zach find any fresh water anywhere?” Frazer wanted to know.

Alita shook her head, setting her long earrings jangling against her tangled raven hair. “If we had, I would still be there, drowning my thirst and soaking my poor, aching body.”

A
t first, Kelly wasn’t sure what had awakened her. As she looked around, nothing seemed different, except that the fire had burned down and could use another piece of wood. She rose quietly, not wanting to disturb the others, suppressing a groan as her sore muscles protested the
movement. She was reaching for a chunk of driftwood when it occurred to her that it was too quiet. Even with the waves s
ti
ll hissing onto the shore, Earl mumbling in his sleep, and Gavin snoring ligh
tl
y, there was something missing. Some essential sound.

Then it hit her. The woman. She wasn’t gasping anymore. The wheezing and rattling she’d made with every breath was gone. With trepidation, Kelly went to her and knelt at her side. The woman’s face was peaceful, not longer twisted with pain. Even as she took hold of her wrist to feel for a pulse, Kelly knew what she would find. She was dead.

“If you’re considering CPR, don’t bother, dearie. She passed on about half an hour ago.”

Startled, Kelly spun around to find Wynne propped up on one elbo
w, watching her. “Did she…? Was it…
?”

Wynne offered a gentle smile. “No, she didn’t wake. She went in her sleep, the way we’d all prefer to go, if that’s any comfort. I said a prayer for her.”

Kelly swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I didn’t even know her. It’s just so sad. We
…
we don’t even know her name. At least the man and the boy have their wallets on them, but there’s nothing to tell us who she was—if she was someone’s wife or mother. She died alone.”

“Not at all. We were here with her. God was here.”

“Was He?” Kelly countered caustically. “Was He there when the plane crashed and killed so many unsuspecting, innocent people?”

“Now, Kelly,” Wynne admonished softly. “Don’t be bitter. You know He was there, watching over you, making sure you and I and the others got out.”

“Why us? Why them?” Kelly held her hands out, palms up, in a gesture of confusion.

“It’s not for us to question the Lord’s decisions, my girl.
He alone knows who and why and when.” Wynne’s eyes clouded. “He took my James. I realize that now, though my mind has tried to deny it all day. I, too, want to question God’s authority, but what good would that serve? No, better to accept the Lord’s will as gracefully as possible and wait for him to call us in turn.”

Kelly heaved a sodden sigh. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Wynne concurred softly. “Just now, I’m feeling very sorry for myself, with James gone. We’ve been together for so long. I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to live without him. I hope our Heavenly Father, in His mercy, lets me join James soon. Somehow, I feel certain He will.”

Kelly crawled over to the older woman, took her wrinkled hand, and tenderly stroked the paper-thin skin. “I’m sorry, Wynne. If there is anything I can do to make it easier for you, all you have to do is ask.”

“Thank you, dearie, but
I
think only God can help me now.”

D
awn was tinting the sky in shades of pink and pearl gray as Zach limped down the final stretch of beach toward the camp. He felt like warmed-over death, and knew he must look the part, too. He’d walked most of the night, allowing himself only brief rest periods and one short nap. His ankle throbbed, his ribs and shoulder ached. His head felt as if an army of c
ontractors were holding a nail-
hammering contest on his skull. His eyes were scratchy with grit and lack of sleep. And every muscle and tendon in his body was in revolt. He could barely place one foot in front of the other.

Worst of all, he was returning with bad news. In the course of his all-night marathon, he had traversed the entire circumference of the island, with the exception of
one section on the north side, where the rocks had formed an impassible barrier. Of necessity, he’d had to turn back the way he’d come, and walk the whole perimeter in reverse, thus doubling the distance. Roughly, he estimated he’d walked more than thirty miles, fifteen-plus miles each way. His best calculation was that the island was eight miles long, north to south, and about four miles wide, west to east, with a shape similar to an irregularly curved, knobby kidney bean.

And for all his searching, his efforts had been for naught. He hadn’t met one other person, hadn’t come across a single building, abandoned or otherwise, let alone a town or village. Not even a rotting boat dock or an old campfire. The only sign of life he’d encountered, other than a few birds he’d disturbed from their slumber in the trees, had been a sand crab that had tried to nip his toe.

Unless there was a village nestled further inland, it appeared the island was totally uninhabited. Deserted. And Zach didn’t have to think very hard to determine why. He hadn’t discovered any water, either. Again, unless there was a stream or pond concealed in the interior, beyond sight of the beach, there didn’t appear to be a source of fresh water—which meant he and his fellow survivors were in extremely desperate straits.

His only remaining hope was that Daniels had had better luck locating help, that rescue was already underway. They had to get off this island quickly.
He
had to, as soon as possible, for a number of personal reasons that had nothing at all to do with his next building contract. It was a toss-up as to whom he was most worried about—his daughter or his father. Knowing his family, they would all take the news of the crash hard. They would surely assume the worst. After losing her mother at such a young age, Becky would be devastated. His mother would wail and pray and cling to the slimmest thread of hope. His sisters would pester
the airline officials to no end for the smallest details. But it was his father, and his reaction, that Zach feared for most.

Ike Goldstein was a lovable,
stubborn old goat, and lately
he’d been displaying that last trait distressingly well, driving his entire family to distraction. Recently, he’d been having recurring chest pains, shortness of breath, and dizzy spells—and adamantly refusing to see a doctor, despite pleas from everyone. Zach’s mother, Sarah, had tried everything from nagging to outright threats, employing every guilt tactic known to Jewish wives and mothers the world over, and all to no avail. Ike insisted it was only indigestion, or maybe a touch of angina, nothing serious enough to necessitate a visit to that “quack,” who knew next to nothing and charged the earth for a lot of worthless advice.

It had taken a two-hour phone conversation/argument with Zach to get the elder Goldstein to finally relent, under certain staunch conditions. Ike would only consent to tests, which, the doctor had already recommended simply on the strength of Sarah’s description of his symptoms, if Zach would go with him. Zach had agreed with alacrity, instructing his parents to set up an appointment for the first Monday after his arrival back in the U.S. This would give Zach a few days to get his construction team lined up and put someone reliable in temporary charge of the hotel project.

Zach intended to fly from Las Vegas to Seattle, to stay for as long as it took, to direct construction via fax, or to commute back and forth if necessary—anything to get his father those tests, to determine what ailed him, and to implement proper treatment. Whether it entailed medication for high blood pressure or something as complicated as heart surgery, Zach needed to be there. His father, his brave beloved idol, not only hated hospitals, he held a deep-seated fear of them, feeling that once a person went
in they were more likely to come out feet first, especially if surgery was required.

“I watch television. I’ve heard all the stories,” Ike had said time and time again. “They give you tainted blood, they use instruments that aren’t sterile, they leave sponges inside when they sew you back up. You’re at the mercy of incompetent fools. Once they cut you open, odds are you’re a dead man.”

To add to this lop-sided equation, Ike had a rare blood type, and Zach was the only member of the family whose blood type matched. Naturally, Zach had already promised to donate as much as need be, if such a demand arose. Ike was adamant about not being infused with a stranger’s blood. And if his mother’s dire predictions, in addition to the doctor’s peripheral assessment, was accurate, there was every chance Zach would be required to do just that.

Zach, too, had a bad feeling about his father’s symptoms. He could only hope news of the crash hadn’t sent his dad straight into a heart attack or stroke. He had to get home. It was imperative that he reach Seattle as soon as humanly possible. But as things stood now, he was stranded on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, helpless to do anything but wait to be rescued.

A
s he finally came within sight of the camp, Zach’s heart sank to his toes. There they were, his hapless companions, just as he’d left them—a ragged band of unwitting, undelivered castaways. It looked as if they were all still asleep. “The Devil’s Dozen, minus one,” he thought irreverently, including himself in their number. “The Luckless Wonders.”

If he’d had ten more steps to go, Zach wouldn’t have made it. Not under his own steam. He fell to his knees and sat, head down, panting heavily, hoping he wouldn’t
wake the others. He didn’t want to have to give them the bad tidings yet. To see the fear and disappointment on their faces. In fact, he wished he could put it off forever. But this wasn’t something he could hide, like a child who’d broken a toy and didn’t want to confess. This was a matter of life and death.