Unseen Messages(113)

By the time the moon kicked the blazing sun from its throne, lack of sleep from the night before with turtle watching, and the stress of upsetting Estelle, I fell into a restless sleep on my side of the partition wall.

All night she didn’t come to me. She didn’t crawl around the flax barrier or cuddle into my side.

The next day was just as bad.

Strained and unnatural smiles. Sugary words and polite conversation painted over the truth of what we needed to say.

It was God-awful.

The worst day of my damn life.

But with the magic of hindsight, it wasn’t the worst.

Not really.

I’d thought the crash was bad. Being stranded. The fear of survival and never being found.

Turned out, it could get worse.

And it was coming for us.

We just didn’t know it.





Chapter Forty-Three


...............................................

E S T E L L E

......

Fortune favours the fortunate. Bad luck favours the deserving.

The world has its favourites, just like every man, woman, and child has theirs. We have our favourite person, our favourite food, our favourite memory.

And unfortunately, the universe has its favourites, too. And for those who don’t play by its rules, misfortune and bad luck reigns.

I thought I was one of the favourites.

Turns out, I was wrong.

Taken from the notepad of E.E.

...

BAD LUCK COMES in threes (or, at least, that was how the expression went). Our luck—what with crashing and being left to our own devices for four months—might be slightly skewed. However, it felt as if the universe didn’t like us very much with the week that followed after I slept with Galloway.

First, there was Conner.

The day after my disastrous tryst, Conner collected his fishing spear like every other day and went to spend the morning chasing breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He’d become so proficient, I no longer worried about him swimming out of his depth or stabbing himself accidentally. The reef around our island protected us from crashing waves and the calm atoll was as safe as a chlorinated pool for a seasoned hunter.

For a few hours, I weaved another blanket with Pippa to replace my first attempts and restocked our firewood. I smoked some more coconut shards on a flat rock in the fire, set a cauldron of water to boil for a clam salad lunch, and even managed to find ten minutes to scribble a phrase or two in my notebook while no one was looking.

But then...

Calamity happened.

Turned out the reef wasn’t as safe as a pee-filled paddling pool. Not as secure as a pool with pretty mosaic tiles on the walls.

A pool didn’t house enemies.

Pippa saw him first.

Dropping the thin vine she’d been decorating with fish skeletons, she squealed and charged down the beach to her limping, gasping brother.

Oh, my God.

Galloway, who’d returned from the crash site to salvage an extra piece of fuselage, threw the axe into the sand and took off after her. Limping/jogging, he only wore his board-shorts, ignoring screams from his own body to focus on the boy who’d become our son.

Please...no...

“Conner!” I charged after them.

My feet flew in the soft sand, hurtling me to all fours just as Connor collapsed into Galloway’s arms.

“I’ve got you.” Galloway lowered him to the beach, cushioning Conner’s back on his chest.

My eyes zeroed in on Conner’s right leg as it splayed out. His normal brown skin was puckered and white with a wickedly red puncture on his instep.

“No! Conner. No!” Pippa tried to grab him, but Galloway pushed her back. “Pip, don’t. Let me deal with it.”

Conner moaned, smiling weakly at Pippa. “I’m okay, Pippi. Don’t—” Agony cut him off; he buried his face in Galloway’s chest. “Make it stop. God, make the pain stop.”

I shook as if a magnitude ten earthquake replaced my heart. Grabbing Pippa, I stopped her clutching Conner and wiped at her tears. “Shush, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Her wails lifted until the sound echoed off the palm trees. “Conner...please.” She cracked in half, turning in my arms and sobbing on my shoulder.

I rubbed her back, doing my best to soothe her while terror tore at my soul.

“What happened, mate?” Galloway cuddled Conner close, wiping away his sand-filled hair. “What’s up? Tell me what hurts.”

Conner opened his mouth to speak, but he retched instead. Galloway repositioned him so he could vomit on the beach. He never stopped murmuring comforting things while Conner gave into the nausea and toxins coursing through his blood.

Pippa’s tears turned into rivers; she squirmed from my arms and grabbed Conner’s hand. “Don’t go to sleep, Co. Please don’t go to sleep.”

I wanted to calm her—she’d put herself into hiccupping shock soon—but my panic for Conner turned me ruthlessly focused.

I nudged her away. “Pippa...I need to look at him, okay? I’m going to make sure he doesn’t go to sleep.”

Don’t promise something you can’t deliver.

My teeth clacked together.

Pippa fought, but she didn’t match my strength. In the back of my mind, I hated myself for treating her so cruelly, but she was alive.