“You stay here,” he said angrily, feeling for his back where I had hit him. “Please, just stay here and stay out of my way. I’ll be back.”
I shook my head violently and ran after him. He started running too, to get away from me, but I grabbed his arm roughly and pulled on him hard. I hoped he could see the pure panic in my eyes.
“Mary said this would happen, Mary said…,” I stammered.
“Now you’re just babbling,” he admonished me, trying to swat away my arm like I was some sort of fly or pest.
I pulled on him harder. “Please Dex, please don’t do this, we have to forget it, we have to leave now! Right now! Right now! Right now!” I started screaming it. His eyes went wide, unsure of what to do with me, but he quickly composed himself and put my face in his hands. He looked deep in my eyes.
“I’ll be right back. You can’t stop me. We need that film. We are fucked without it. Without it, this whole thing would be for nothing.”
It didn’t matter to me. Nothing else mattered except getting off the island alive. Oh, if only he had seen Mary, seen what I had seen, then he’d know.
I started crying. It was really the only thing I could do. He took his hands off and rolled his eyes.
“Not going to work. Now please let go, or I’m dragging you along with me,” he threatened, the niceness gone from his eyes. He wasn’t going to let up. I began to think about all the things I could do to get him to stay. I could pick up the nearest heavy rock and hit him over the head with it but then what? I couldn’t paddle both of us to the boat.
“Are you shitting me? Are you seriously thinking about bashing me over the head?” he asked incredulously. He had followed my eyeline to a barnacle–covered stone that was just large enough to do the job.
I bit my lip.
“Unbelievable,” he spat out. “You need to get a fucking hold of yourself.”
And at that he flung his arms out of my hands with whip-like ferocity. “Now you can come with me or stay here. Your choice. But those are your only two choices.”
He adjusted the backpack angrily, then turned on his heel and marched off into the woods. I looked at the Zodiac and Mary Contrary and prayed both of them would be there when we returned. If we returned.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
To Dex’s credit, he did know that we were pushing our luck by going back for the God damn film cartridges. Considering the wound on his leg, we jogged all the way back to the campsite, not even stopping once to catch our breath. This time we were aware of the mud pits too, so we were able to sidestep them without getting bogged down.
All the running left my chest wheezing painfully and my stomach doing topsy–turvy things with the Twinkie. By the time we saw the stupid campsite, one more time, I had to head off to use the outhouse. I did not want to. I did not want to leave Dex’s side. But some things can’t be ignored and this was one of them.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I told him as we came to the junction near the campsites.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. Can you come and get me after you find the film?”
“Sure,” he agreed, giving me an uneasy look. Maybe he was afraid I was going to sneak around and club him over the head.
He headed off to the tent and I ran as quickly as I could over to the outhouse. My stomach often gave me trouble. It figured that it would happen at a time like this.
On the way over, as I passed across the mossy, rocky outcrop that the outhouse stood on, I noticed a charred ring around some logs. I saw it before, but it never clicked. It had been a campfire at one point.
It got me thinking. Maybe if we took all the toilet paper out of the outhouse and stuffed it under the logs (turning it over so we got the dry side) and lit it, we could create a signal fire. That might cause some attention. Not that anyone would see it through the fog, but you never know. Dark, thick smoke might stand out against the gauzy fog and a nearby ship that plowed the international shipping lanes that were only two miles off shore, or a low–flying seaplane, might see it and investigate.
I sat down on the outhouse hole and looked at the stack of toilet paper beside it. There were enough rolls to do some sort of damage. It sounded pretty naïve, I know, but in case things didn’t work out, if we could light it and then maybe the flare as well, there was at least a chance of rescue.
After I was done in the bathroom and felt a million times better (well, my insides did), I stepped out, my arms full of the toilet paper rolls. I began lifting up the pieces of burnt firewood and sticking the rolls in at various angles. The only problem was with how damp the logs were.
Then I remembered the fire pits they had up by the other campsites that were further inland. There was coal and stuff like that, I thought anyway. I got excited and started off for them.
I ran to our campsite first and saw Dex sorting frantically through the bags he had laid out on the picnic table.
“Did you find the damn thing?” I asked.
He glared at me and kept looking.
“Anyway,” I continued. “I have an idea. I’m going to light a signal fire, just in case. There’s some coal or kindling up at the other campsite. Can I have your lighter?”
He didn’t say anything. I expected him to applaud me for my idea. But maybe he was still mad that I threw that rock at him. He did reach into his front pocket and pulled out his gold lighter. He thrust it into my hand and went back to searching.