Unseen Messages(59)

My mouth tried to water at the thought of quenching my unquenchable thirst. But saliva was non-existent. The thought of drinking tree-created water when we returned to the beach was the only thing keeping me going for the past two hours.

The first thing Conner and I had done was scrounge for any remaining edibles. We’d been stupid with how quickly we’d consumed our rations. And probably even more stupid by wasting the last dregs of energy on stripping a helicopter that wouldn’t replenish the nutrients it took to demolish.

But there was another reason why I was eager to get as many pieces as possible. Yes, we needed the metal to somehow turn into water catchments (if and when a raincloud arrived) but if we arranged the fuselage into S.O.S on the beach, we might attract a plane.

Not that any have been close since we arrived.

“Yes!” With a final yank, the screw I’d been working on popped off. “Got it.”

Conner squatted, picking up the fallen fixing, and adding it to my pile. I’d meticulously kept hold of the ones we’d undone, just in case they could be used for something.

Like what, exactly? You plan on building a home on a deserted island?

I ignored my snide thoughts.

Last week, I would’ve scoffed at the mere mention of saving such things, but now...everything was an asset, even if it didn’t seem that way.

Conner placed the metal on top of the others and disappeared back into the cabin. He returned with a coarse piece of rope, no doubt used as bracing for packages.

I tucked the leaf-parcel I’d wrapped around my screws into my shorts pocket. I didn’t ask what he was doing, giving him free rein to think outside the box.

With intense concentration, he secured the rope around the jagged edges of the metal and tugged.

The entire pile slid toward him.

He looked up. “What do you think? I don’t know about you, but the thought of carrying all this stuff to the beach? I don’t have the energy.”

My shoulders rolled in relief.

Thank God.

I’d been dreading that part. “I know exactly what you mean.”

His face whitened with concern. “I feel strange. My eyesight’s wonky, and I struggle to concentrate. Is that normal?”

“It is when you’re severely dehydrated and hungry.”

He looked off into the distance. “We need more food.”

I nodded, swallowing at the mammoth task of such a thing.

We need to be rescued.

Stepping away from the wreckage, something cracked beneath my flip-flops. I looked down, expecting a snapped twig but something glinted beneath the dirt. “What on earth—”

Conner watched me as I bent over and picked up the item.

My heart instantly hammered. “They’re Galloway’s.”

“He wears glasses?”

Unobservant teenager.

My fingers trembled as I smudged the broken eyewear with my thumb. “Yes. Not that he can wear these anymore.” The black frame that’d cradled his celestial blue eyes had been demolished. One lens had shattered but the other had survived intact (although extremely dirty).

“So he’s blind without them?” Conner asked. “He seems to see okay.”

“It’s not like that. He can see. He can do everything a normal person can; it’s just slightly out of focus.”

Conner wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, that would suck.”

“Yep.” I turned the glasses over, seeing if there was any way I could mend them. Unfortunately, with the bridge broken and one lens unusable, he’d have to use the glasses as a monocle.

Or...they can be used for something else.

Hope exploded inside.

Hope linked entirely to survival. Hope that could attract attention. Hope that would make our evenings beneath the star-peppered sky more bearable.

Why didn’t we think about it before?

“Fire.”

“What?” Conner frowned.

“We don’t need a lighter. We have something that will work just as well.” I smiled at the burning sunshine.

Conner didn’t speak as I marched past him, heading in the direction of the camp. “Come on. I want to get back. I want to try before it’s too late.”

Silently, he followed, pulling his newly fashioned sleigh, leaving the pungent whiff of death behind us.





Chapter Twenty-Two


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G A L L O W A Y

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I COULDN’T DO it.

Yes, I was in pain. Yes, I could barely move. Yes, I had no energy what-so-bloody-ever. But Estelle was working, trying, doing her best to keep us alive.

She thought I’d obey and rest while she worked?

Fat chance.

She didn’t know me at all.

There was no way in hell I would be a lazy slob while she killed herself doing things I should be doing.

My thoughts smashed into one another like a nasty pile-up. I’d sorted the water issue. We had enough to stay breathing—not enough to quench our thirst—but enough.

Shelter wasn’t something I could manage at the moment, no matter how much I hated admitting that.

So, that left hunting.

I couldn’t swim, so I couldn’t fish. I didn’t have a net or any way of trawling the shallows for smaller sea life. I didn’t have a spear because Estelle had run off with the only knife and I couldn’t make a sharp point without one.