Who was I? Snow White?
Shaking violently, I lifted my hands in front of my eyes and stared at my fingers. They looked okay. Burned and cracked, but okay. My flesh wasn't melting from my body or anything. The waves crashed around me, soaking the hem of my T-shirt and the dress underneath, but for a long moment I didn't move. I took a deep breath and allowed my pulse to calm.
I was okay. Still stranded, still starving, but okay.
Slowly, I stood up and turned around. A thought ever so languidly formed itself in the back of my addled mind. Maybe I couldn't eat the apples, but that didn't mean I couldn't use them.
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I walked back up the beach and slipped the bandana off my head. Tying the two free corners together, I fashioned a little sack. Then I untied my blindfold from my wrist and used it to protect my hand as I picked as many apples as I could load into the sack. I grabbed my water bottle up from the sand as I walked by and headed back for my little stretch of beach.
If those guys did come back, I was going to be ready.
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SAVE MYSELF
The sun was starting to go down. I sat atop the rock jetty, the one that was home to the barnacles I had used to fray the twine from my wrists that first day, and watched as hundreds of brilliant colors lit the horizon. I ran my fingers over the six lines in my piece of drift. I had so hoped there would never be a seventh, but if I made it through this night, it seemed as though there would be.
Pulling my knees up under my chin, I yanked the hem of the T - shirt down over my legs to my ankles, affording myself the slightest bit of warmth. Next to me on the rocks was my bottle of water, still almost full, my pile of manchineel apples, my purse, and my one shoe. I don't know why I felt the need to keep these things near me at all times, but I did. Having them near me made me feel more secure.
As the sun dipped toward the ocean, painting the sky with bright pinks, purples, peaches, and yellows, I took a deep breath and tried to fend off a niggling feeling of fear and desperation. Another day was
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ending. Another night about to begin. How long could I make it without food? I wanted to survive. Wanted so badly to get off this island and see my family and my friends again. But just wanting it
wasn't going to make it happen.
Behind me, the palm trees danced in the wind, their fronds click-clacking against one another. It sounded like a thousand mini-stilettos crossing a marble floor. I closed my eyes and pretended I was at a fancy Billings function. That I could hear the sound of my friends' laughter and conversation. The sounds of champagne corks popping and glasses clinking and cell phones trilling. A smile twitched at my lips. What were London and Vienna doing right now? Were Kiki and Constance still hanging out in New York? I bet Astrid was going balls-out crazy in London, doing whatever she could to piss off her parents. I rested my cheek on my folded arms and sighed, wishing I was with them. Any of them. All of them. Wishing I was anywhere but here.
The wind died, and for a moment there was silence. But I kept my eyes closed, clinging to the happy, warm images of my friends. And that's when I heard it.
A motor. A boat engine. Far off, but getting closer. Undoubtedly getting closer. My heart slammed into my rib cage like a rock off a slingshot and my head popped up, eyes wide. It had been so long since I'd heard anything other than the sounds of nature, I thought my brain was playing tricks on me. I scanned the water anyway. It was already much darker than it had been just moments before, but I saw the shadow of something moving out there on the ocean. Saw the
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white foam of wake made by a vessel cutting through the water. My heart leapt and I was on my feet.
It was Upton. It had to be. He was coming to save me. I lifted my arms over my head and waved them around like a crazy person. Which, of course, I was. A few hours ago I'd been talking to a dead guy.
The boat drew closer. Soon I was able to make out its shape. It was a small speedboat, nothing fancy, and there were two people at the helm. Not one, but two. And neither of them was Upton. I would have recognized his shadow. The line of his shoulders. The lift of his chin.
No. It was the kidnappers. They were back. My hope fizzled like a fourth of July sparkler being shoved into sand. If they were back, they were here to kill me. I looked down at my pile of apples and my jaw clenched with grim determination. It was up to me. I was the only one who could save me now. Using my handy bandana sack, I gathered up the apples and jumped down to the sand to greet my executioners. I had promised myself I would be ready when they returned, and I was. But knowing that didn't stop nervous bile from rising up in my throat.
My plan had to work. It just had to.
They beached their boat and hopped out into the shallow water. Their faces were still obscured by wiry beards and dark sunglasses. As they slowly approached, I reached into my sack of apples with my bandaged hand and drew one out, clutching it behind my back.
"Well, well. Look who's a little survivor," Red Beard said.
They were both smiling. Had Upton doubled their money? Were they here to bring me back? My heart pounded with adrenaline, hope,
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and exhaustion. I gripped the apple as tightly as I could, holding on to it for dear life. As if it could save me. I hoped it could save me.
"Where's Upton?" I asked, trying to remain positive.