Page 64 of Wild Tempest

I smiled at her. “That was fun, don’t you think?”

Teagan shook her head, unamused.

“How come you didn’t see that coming?” I teased.

She sneered at me. “How exactly are we going to get off this island?”

I checked my phone. There was no cell service out here.

Teagan and I marched around the beach, holding our phones in the air, trying to get a signal.

No luck.

“I guess we’re camping on the beach tonight,” I said.

She groaned. “While that sounds romantic, I think the reality of it might be a little different.”

“It will be fun,” I said, putting on an optimistic smile. “We’ll make a campfire, tell ghost stories.”

“It could be days or weeks before someone finds us.”

“Stay positive. Somebody’s got to come out here before too long.” I tried to keep it upbeat, but our situation could turn dire. There weren’t any freshwater sources out here and little edible vegetation. Survival on an island like this could be brutal.

I’d left a note in the galley for Jack before we left. He’d come looking for us eventually. I hoped.

Teagan and I scavenged the beach, looking for construction materials to build a lean-to or some kind of simple structure.

We collected driftwood, branches, and palm fronds and stumbled across a blue tarp. It would come in handy for a rain catch if need be. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

We found a piece of a fiberglass hull that would make a nice roof for a lean-to for the time being. We dragged all the stuff back to the campsite. I built a small structure while Teagan searched for dry pieces of wood to make a fire with.

She returned with a handful of branches and kindling. With the help of a lighter, I got a fire started. The wood popped and hissed, not totally dry. The smoke would help keep the bugs away. Maybe someone would see the flames flickering on the beach and investigate, but I wasn't holding my breath.

In the morning, I would make a spear and try my luck fishing in some of the tidal flats. I prepared myself mentally for the long haul.

We'd gotten off of the Almaz Morya—a situation where our odds of survival were a lot worse. This was a cakewalk, or so I hoped. I remained optimistic.

39

"It's too bad we don't have marshmallows," Teagan said.

"It's too bad we don't have a lot of things," I replied.

"Roasting marshmallows over an open flame would make it feel more like camping than surviving."

"So just pretend," I said.

"Pretend what? That we’re roasting marshmallows?"

"That we’re camping.” I smiled. "When was the last time you slept under the stars?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's been a while.”

"It's probably good to do that every now and then. Reconnect with nature.”

"Ah, yes. We are certainly reconnecting with nature," she said, slapping a bug that landed on her arm.

In the distance, a faint hum got my attention. "You hear that?"