“What the hell are you doing?” Conner inched closer.
“Stay back.” Gritting my teeth, I drove my shoulder into the tree again.
And again.
Ow. Ow. Ow.
By the third shoulder nudge, another coconut crashed to the floor.
“Wow.” Conner dashed forward and scooped it up. “Good work.”
Rubbing my shoulder, I panted, “We’ll need to figure out a better way of doing that.”
“I’d say.”
Taking one of the coconuts, I headed back to camp. “Let’s return to the others. They’ll be wondering where we are.”
.............................
“Where are they?” Conner dumped the coconuts by our supplies, peering along the beach. “Pip?!” His voice hadn’t deepened yet; it cracked with worry.
My heart raced at the immediate leap of something terrible happening.
The thought was too painful to contemplate.
Conner spun in place, his gaze locking onto the see-through plastic we’d found in the helicopter. Unlike before, where it had been scrunched up on the sand, it was now wrapped around a section of our shady tree. Branches and leaves were imprisoned in the plastic while a funnel had been tied with a piece of my singlet that’d been around Galloway’s leg.
What on earth?
I drifted forward, obsessed with its purpose.
Droplets of condensation clung to the inner plastic, rolling hesitantly toward the funnel at the bottom.
Conner poked the plastic with his finger. “What the hell is this?”
“Fresh water, of course.” Galloway hopped, with the aid of his crutch, from the forest edge. His face was tight with pain, and his five o’ clock shadow had grown thicker overnight.
Pippa dashed forward, holding the unwrapped poncho that I’d stuffed into my pockets.
My pockets!
My jacket.
I froze in place. “Oh, my God!”
Everyone jumped.
“What?” Galloway demanded.
I dashed toward Pippa, kidnapping her hands. “Where did you find this?”
“I didn’t steal it. Promise!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m not saying that. But it was in something of mine that I can’t find. Do you know where it is?”
“That puffer thing you wouldn’t let go of?” Galloway’s voice wrenched my head up.
I nodded furiously. “Yes, that. My jacket. Where is my jacket?”
“Why, what’s so important?”
“Doesn’t matter!” I breathed hard, tasting salvation like a sweet, sweet wine.
We could be saved.
This could all be over.
“I lost it in the crash. I couldn’t find it—”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “I’m only messing with you. I hung it on a tree a few metres away to dry.” He pointed into the undergrowth. “It’s not exactly clean—”
I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be back.” My feet flew, my ribs cried, but for once, I didn’t care.
My jacket would send us home.
My jacket held my cell-phone.
Chapter Eighteen
...............................................
G A L L O W A Y
......
DAMN WOMAN TOOK off like a bloody gazelle, leaping into the treeline.
Conner made to chase her, but I grabbed his wrist. “Not this time, little buddy. Let her do whatever’s so important.”
I knew what was important.
I’d found her jacket.
I’d gone through her pockets.
I’d found the cell-phone.
For a second, I’d wanted to cry in relief, but when I tried to turn it on...it was dead.
The crushing blow had been enough to put me in a sour mood even though I’d remembered a survival technique that would, at least, keep us with a small ration of water.
If I’d told Estelle about the flat battery—same as my useless, smashed-to-pieces phone—she wouldn’t have believed me. Something like that (when you have so much hope pinned on it) had to be seen to be believed.
So, I did the only thing I could.
I gingerly lowered myself to the sand and stretched out my broken leg. My hands shook as I placed the crutch beside me. The shaking wasn’t new. I constantly shook. I didn’t know if it was from hunger or pain—the two sensations had plaited together and tormented relentlessly. But I did know I was on the brink of a fever and needed to be smart about conserving my energy as much as possible.
Pippa’s bottom lip wobbled. “Where did she go?”
“She’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.” I patted the ground beside me. “Come on, sit here.”
She shook her head, staring longingly into the forest. Already the kids had latched onto Estelle because she permeated a vibe that said everything would be okay as long as she was around.
With me...they were more likely to get snapped at than hugged.
I told the truth when Estelle asked if the splint had helped. I did feel better. She’d earned my eternal gratitude. But it didn’t matter because there was so much bad to overcome before we found anything good.
Thinking of her must’ve yanked her into manifestation because she exploded from the forest, holding her bronze puffer jacket.
Her face split in the biggest smile. “I found it! We’re saved!”
No...we’re not.
Slamming to her knees in the soft sand, she ripped open the zipper pockets and scooped item after item. Notepads, pens, handheld mirror, small tube of toothpaste, hair-ties...on and on until finally she tore free her cell-phone.