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The worst thing is that after seeing what they are packing, there might be some truth in warning me about the dangers of snakes.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Oz
The chirping wakes me. Why is there chirping in my bedroom? I crack open my eyes and see white. I frown, trying to remember what I drank last night when everything filters back in.
I turn my head and see Salem beside me, her face relaxed in sleep. Her forehead is beaded with sweat from the humidity, making me wonder what time it is. I lift my arm and look at my watch. Nine am. Not too bad considering I’m usually awake at the crack of dawn, even after a bender.
I move to get up, but Salem chooses that moment to sigh and roll into me, her head pressing against my ribs as her hand lays flat on my chest. I look down at her, expecting to see her eyes fluttering open, but she’s still out cold. Taking in her pretty face, I see the things I missed in the panic of yesterday. The dark circles under her eyes, the dried blood in her hairline, the small cut under her eye—she also has a faint bruise on her cheekbone and a bump on her forehead, neither of which looks too bad. I hate seeing her marked up like this when, thanks to her, Zig and I don’t have a scratch on us.
Using the tip of my finger, I gently trace the slope of her nose and over the curve of her cheek. She’s a little bruised and a little battered, but this woman is anything but weak. Given what’s happened, most women would be losing their minds. But not Salem. And it’s not because she isn’t afraid. She’s terrified. I can tell just by looking at her, but she doesn’t let the fear debilitate her. She pushes through it. That’s true strength—facing the things that threaten to cut you off at the knees.
As much as I want to stay here with her, I know we have things to do if we want to make this place safe. I gently separate myself from her and climb to my feet. I shove my boots on and tug a clean T-shirt over my head before checking out the plane. My throat and mouth are as dry as a desert, but I resist diving into the last of our water supply just yet. I jump out of the plane and walk down the tree trunk just as Zig strolls out of the trees with a bundle of logs in his arms.
“She still asleep?”
“Yeah, she’s out cold. Firewood?” I nod to the logs he tosses on the ground.
“Yeah. It’s a bitch because a lot of it is damp, but I figured if we can source some dry stuff now, we can store some for when we need it.”
I look around. The downed plane cleared the area a little, but there is a lot of debris scattered around. “You want me to help, or do you want me to see about storing it?”
“Storage. If you can find a way to cover it and keep it dry, even better.”
“On it.”
I focus on the underside of the plane and find a gap where the plane’s nose is angled down. It’s not enough that everything inside slides everywhere, but enough to leave a somewhat sheltered space. I clear out the area so it’s bare and look around for anything I can use to offer some sort of protection.
I spot bamboo growing not too far away. That will work for now, assuming the wind doesn’t get too out of control. Pulling out my hunting knife, I use it to cut down and shape what I need. One by one, I stab the bamboo stakes into the ground, which is just damp enough to hold them in place. I place them as tightly together as I can and stand back when I’m done to see how it looks.
“Not bad,” Zig says, stepping up behind me with a bottle of water in his hands.
I take the water from him and drink it eagerly, feeling exhausted. That’s the thing about humidity. It’s easy to overdo it without realizing it, especially if you’re not taking in enough fluids to combat dehydration.
“It will do, though I think I’m going to climb up there and grab a few leaves to wedge in the top in case it rains.”
“Alright. I’m going to start a fire.”
“It might draw attention. We’re not exactly sure where we are.”
“We’ll just have to deal with it if it does. I’m going hunting after to see what I can find to eat. I’ll take the flare gun with me, but you’ll need to stick with Salem while I’m gone. I don’t want her alone.”
“Just be careful.” I hand him back the bottle of water and watch as he heads to the small pile of logs he arranged to make a fire.
I walk to the larger, secondary pile and move them into the now enclosed area before standing up and wiping the sweat from my brow. Jesus, it’s fucking hot.
Once Zig is back from hunting, I’ll head out to see if I can find a water source. That’s our most pressing concern now. Though, with the ground feeling as damp as it does, I’m hopeful that the rainy season is upon us and it will rain again soon.
With that thought, I pick a tree with enough handholds and make the climb up. When I reach the canopy, I pull out my knife again and cut a dozen or so large green leaves and let them fall to the ground rather than trying to carry them down.
Once I’m done, I slip my knife back into my pocket and glance around. It’s lush and green as far as the eye can see. It would be a thing of beauty if I were gazing down at it from the plane. But from the belly of it? Not so much. The realities of what we’re facing feel more daunting now than before. But even knowing this is going to be hard as hell, Zig’s right. Here, cut off from the world, might be the safest place for all of us while we figure out what our next step should be.
I climb back down the tree and gather the leaves, using them to fill in the gaps of the wood shelter until I’m happy with it. It’s not perfect, not by a long shot, but it will do.
I walk over to Zig, who has the fire going. It’s not too big, and he circles it with a pile of rocks to help contain it. The last thing we want is to cause a disaster.
“I’m going to grab the flare gun and head out.”
