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“Nah... She’s not crazy.” There was a good reason for his continued stay here.
Right?
How long had he been here? Just a few days.
They have to decide if you’re a threat, he reminded himself.
He recalled some of the villages he and his mother had visited in his youth. Some places welcomed visitors. Others, well, other villages required his mother’s solid negotiation skills.
This was probably one of those instances.
The photo of his mother from his control panel had been lost during the crash. He’d hoped to magically find it lodged somewhere in the plane. Despite several attempts to find it, he hadn’t.
God, he missed her.
“I know, I know. Be patient.”
He stripped off his shirt, tossing it into the open door of the plane.
Jori hated waiting, may as well go for another run to kill the time. He’d be triathlon ready by the time rescue came with all the running, swimming and palm tree climbing lately.
This trip wasn’t supposed to have gone like this.
It should have been an easy flight with smooth skies, friendly villagers, and beautiful photos for his book. Something tangible made from the stories his mother told him over and over throughout his childhood. He had created the persona of a legend hunter for his online show, adventuring to exotic places, meeting cool folks and making lifelong memories. This trip was supposed to be that, dedicated to his mom.
She disappeared. He assumed she was dead. He had to. Or else, why wouldn’t she have ever come back?
He swallowed hard, picking up speed.
She wouldn’t have just left him and his dad. She wouldn’t.
One day she told him she had to take a trip to the Bahamas.
The next day his world fell apart.
The incredible relationship he had with his father withered.
At thirteen, he swallowed his grief.
They didn’t speak of her. He’d tried, but gotten nowhere. His father always changed the subject.
So, he locked it away and got on with living.
His father got on with existing.
Jori was determined not to fade like that. He was going to make something of her memory.
After a time, he no longer noticed the sorrow in his father’s eyes. He went his own way. Like his mother always did. He looked on his father’s life as a small confined world, existing on his little campus, surrounded by transient students and emotionally distant colleagues.
He hated that place. He couldn’t breathe from the time he set foot on campus till he could escape again. The regimented life scraped at his psyche. Confinement, authority, suffocation.
He drew air deeper into his lungs, his feet pounded the hot sand.
“Fuck.”
He needed something to do.
There was too much fucking time to think.
