Unseen Messages(69)

The beach on this side was rockier than on ours. A steeper slope to the water with sparse undergrowth. By weighting the bodies down, they would sink and be dragged along the ocean floor as the tide took them farther out to sea.

There was a risk they would eventually make their way to our side of the island. However, the teeming sea life would help with that. Crabs and fishes, sharks and crustaceans, the creatures would live another day by the grace of one of our dead.

I wanted so much to sit. To lie down. To close my eyes and slip into sleep with Estelle in my arms.

But we’d made an unspoken agreement to be there until the end.

So we stood as the night gave up its cloak of black and the sea slowly devoured the dead. When we could no longer see them through the water’s surface, Estelle raised her head from my shoulder.

Her voice was haunting in the dawn. “Rest in peace knowing we’ll look after your children. We’ll love them. Care for them. Make sure they grow and eventually find rescue off this island. Akin, we promise to let your family know your final resting place. Goodbye.”

Silence fell.

Should I say something?

But what?

I didn’t know the first thing about eulogies. I hadn’t given one at my mother’s funeral because I hadn’t attended. I didn’t know how to say goodbye.

Estelle saved me from the task by turning and clambering up the beach. She turned to look back. “Are you coming?”

Every part of me shook but I nodded. Slowly, I hauled myself up the sand, crutch and hop, crutch and hop. One lumbering step at a time, following the woman who made me a better person just by smiling at me.

Together, we returned to our furnitureless home.

Together, we stripped off our clothes and waded into the fresh ocean and washed away the remnants of the night—washed away the smell, the memories, our old life.

Together, we looked forward to the future.





Chapter Twenty-Five


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

E S T E L L E

......

I’ll die on this island.

I’ll survive on this island.

I’m afraid.

I’m no longer afraid.

I’m alone.

I’ve found someone worth fighting for.

Taken from the notepad of E.E.

...

DAY FOUR

THE CHILDREN KNEW.

After our swim, Galloway and I set up the driftwood memorial at the base of our umbrella tree. The pen and bracelet taken from their parents were placed by their respective heads for when they woke, and the wedding rings glinted in the sunshine, clinking together in the muggy breeze.

When the children woke, their melancholy blanketed the campsite. They didn’t speak, merely hugged their tokens and sat in vigil to say goodbye.

No one mentioned what we’d done. An unspoken bond that their parents were gone and all that mattered was their memory.

The day followed much like the last.

Water collected over the course of the day, the leaves graciously donating liquid the hotter the sun became. After a brief nap in the shade, Galloway mentioned he would go clam gathering. But when he went to stand, he couldn’t.

He’d done as much as he could.

His body had reached an impasse.

The self-hatred and curses he layered upon himself broke my heart. He needed to be kinder to his body and mind if he was ever to find true happiness.

I brought him water and kissed his brow with sweet sincerity. He held my hand, whispered his thumb over my knuckles, and looked at me as if I was an angel, begging for salvation.

I wanted to fall into his eyes and forget. I wanted to curl in his arms and remind him that he wasn’t alone.

But there was too much to do. Too many tasks to complete in order to stay alive.

Leaving him to heal, I organised the day even though I hurt all over. My ribs hadn’t let up their torture and my back ached from dragging corpses all night. I never, ever, ever wanted to do something like that again.

Galloway was right.

Some things, you should never have to do.

No one had the energy to arrange S.O.S out of logs and fuselage; we subconsciously agreed the fire would be our signal.

And as much as we wanted to rest...we couldn’t.

If we didn’t forage, we didn’t eat. And I was more able than Galloway was today. Tomorrow, I might have to lean on him. I didn’t mind sharing duties. If only he could understand that.

Pippa and Conner came with me when I announced a scavenging trip. Together, we found twice as many clams as the day before. Galloway’s messenger bag groaned beneath the salty weight.

I was careful not to lead them too close to the other side of the island, and once we’d collected all we could carry, we returned to the beach and gathered more firewood and fresh coconuts.

Once our chores were complete, we rested around the fire, and ate a simple fare washed down with evergreen water.

We said goodnight to yet another day in deserted paradise.

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DAY EIGHT

The sun seemed intent on chargrilling us from the moment it crested on the horizon to long after it fell into the sea. The children were lethargic and suffered borderline heatstroke.

We spent most of the day bobbing in the tide, trying to stay cool.

If anyone noticed us, swimming in a mismatch of t-shirts and slovenly clothing, they would’ve laughed at our ingenious ways of staying free from sunburn.