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Thank god.
And those sharks are still there, still coming. I can see their shadows for a moment, before they either dive deeper or are obscured by the growing waves.
I can’t think about that. About the fact that at any moment, in this limited visibility, any of them could mistake my legs for a goat.
It’s that feeling when you have a target on your back.
I’m prepared to feel their mouths closing over my calf, teeth slicing into me.
But I keep going, then suddenly it’s easier for me to walk. With all my strength, I run the last few yards out of the lagoon, the goat in my arms, and then pretty much collapse to the ground, Wilson leaping out of my grasp and stumbling a few feet away.
“Wilson!” Fred yells, running over to the goat. He’s bawling, wrapping his arms around the goat, crying with relief.
Daisy is doing the same to me.
“You asshole!” she hits me on the arm. “You stupid asshole, you could have been killed!”
Then she throws herself on me, crying, and holding me tight.
I pat her on the head as I catch my breath, stare up at Lacey and Richard.
“That was a brave thing you did there, captain,” Richard says.
Lacey just nods, wiping her tears away, and looks over at Fred and Wilson.
“Let’s never fight again,” Fred is whispering to Wilson, who is bleating softly. “Never.”
I close my eyes and sigh, wrapping an arm around Daisy.
My work here is done.
* * *
The storm takes two days to fully pass. The night that Wilson almost drowned was the worst. The wind even ripped the roof off one of the bungalows, and we found the dinghy in the east lagoon, despite Fred’s crazy knot.
The next day the wind had calmed but the downpour was torrential. It turned the lagoons a muddy color, and wouldn’t let up. On Fred’s weather system, it looked like the storm just parked itself over the atoll and decided to let it all out. Give us all a bashing, just for the hell of it.
The third day, the sun came out and we emerged from our mess hall and bungalows, blinking at the light like newborns. The air was fresh, the sun was bright, and filled with birds. We survived again.
And yet with the storm, I knew that something else had changed.
Shifted.
I could feel it deep inside my bones.
I asked Daisy to come with me. We took the boat across the lagoon to the barracks, and then headed inland following the stream for a bit, then trekked across to our old campsite.
We arrive on the beach to a sight I expected.
Out there, on the reef…the Atarangi is gone.
I had suspected the second storm would do this, would dislodge her from the reef and take her back out to sea where she would sink, but it still pains me to see.
I fall to my knees in the sand, feeling like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me.
“Where did it go?” Daisy asks, putting her hand on my shoulder.
I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “The ocean took her away. Took her to a watery grave.”
She squeezes my shoulder and then kneels in the sand beside me.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I shake my head no, because I’m not. Because the boat is gone, like my sister is gone.
It’s all so final.
Then I shake my head yes, because I never really got to say goodbye before, and this time I do.
I close my eyes and grab Daisy’s hand.
“We had a tangihanga ceremony for Atarangi,” I whisper to her. “Like a traditional memorial, a chance to mourn. But it wasn’t enough. I never let myself mourn.” I take in a deep, trembling breath. “I think I’m ready now.”
She squeezes my hand. “Then let’s have one now.”
And so I start to pray.
Nineteen
Daisy
Daisy’s Log: Day ?
How do we get through this?
One sunrise at a time.
* * *
Humans can get used to anything. We’re nothing if not adaptable. It’s probably how we’ve survived on this planet for so long. With each wrench the world tries to throw at us, whether it be sabertooth tigers, or famine, or disease, or Facebook, we have found ways to adapt and learn and come out better for it.
We’ve adapted to our new (albeit temporary) life here.
It’s been two weeks since we were told rescue would arrive.
In those two weeks a lot has happened.
And a lot hasn’t.
I think the storm helped, dredging up all of our feelings to the surface and making us confront each other and our mortality once again. When we lived through that, then we were ready to come to terms with what was happening, and we were finally able to move on.
Together.
As a team.
Adapt or perish, as Richard said.
Okay, that was a little bit dramatic since things weren’t that dire for us. We have a fresh water source, we have shelter, we have clothes, we have coffee. We have had enough food to go around, especially with Richard fishing with the line, and Tai taking up spearfishing. Meanwhile, Lacey goes off into the jungles of each little island, pillaging it for fruit and other items, like the leaves of the beach almond tree which she makes into a tonic of sorts. If anyone complains about a headache from being in the sun too long, she’ll come right over to you and stick the leaf up your nose. Richard says it works, but no one else has let her test it out.
