Island of Truth and Consequences Pt. 01

Part One: TRUTH

They had been swimming all day. Soon it would be dark. The island had appeared much closer than it actually was. Three hours earlier he had been nearing exhaustion when his sister stopped swimming. She had a strange expression on her face as she floated in place looking up at the sky.

"I can't swim another stroke," she announced with a finality that was all too apparent.

He threaded water, trying to decide what to do.

"Bluebirds," she cried, pointing up at nothing. "We'll have to wait here for the balloon. The balloon will take us back home."

He realized his sister was delirious. They'd been in the water nearly four days. After floating the better part of that time, they started swimming towards an island that suddenly appeared in the distance.

After hours of effort the island didn't seem any closer, and the two bottles of water he had strung around his neck were nearly empty. Each had only a few swallows left.

His sister began trying to take her life vest off. If she succeeded, he knew she'd sink below the waves and vanish. He could let her have the last of the water, hoping it gave her the strength to swim on, or he could leave her behind and save himself.

He decided to save himself.

It was a dreadful decision, one he was sure to eventually regret, but it wasn't as if there was any love lost between them. Life had never seemed as precious to him as it did at that moment. He turned his back on her, and started to swim off when he heard her voice again, reedy and high pitched.

"It's the rainbow coming down on us, Micheal. Look how pretty it is. There's water there. There's water in the rainbow."

What was he thinking?

He turned around and swam back. She immediately grabbed at him when he came up on her. Twice she managed to shove him under water.

She was babbling about tentacles and motor boats now. He was afraid if she dunked him one more time, he might not make it back to the surface.

He managed to get around behind her, and with as much force as he could muster, slugged her above her right ear. She kept struggling and he had to hit her multiple times before she finally went limp.

He clung to her a few minutes, her vest keeping them both afloat. He looked towards the island, but it was still difficult to judge the distance. With the swelling of the ocean, it kept coming in and out of view. It seemed closer, but it had seemed closer earlier in the day. What if he wasn't making any progress?

His older sister started mumbling, and a serge of adrenaline shot through him. He pulled a single strap loose on her life vest, and not knowing how else to manage, held it with his teeth. Then he began swimming again. He decided if she woke up and started struggling, he would have to abandon her once and for all.

As the next few hours dragged on, he had never known such physical distress. As he swam, each stroke he made in the water burned painfully into the muscles of both arms. He lost most of the feeling in his lower legs, and couldn't be sure if he was still kicking his feet.

He hadn't been thirsty at first. The strap he clenched in his teeth seemed to produce a lot of saliva in his mouth. That didn't last very long. Eventually his mouth became so dry, he had to check several times to be sure he was still clenching the strap.

The sun was setting, and it was quickly getting dark. Soon he'd be swimming blind. He drove himself on and on. It never occured to him to stop and rest. If he was going to die, he was going to die struggling.

He couldn't even be sure his sister was still alive. She hadn't made a sound in quite some time. He had looked back occasionally to make sure her face wasn't in the water, but could only really see the back of her head. For all he knew he could be dragging a dead girl.

One moment blended into another, which turned into the next. This was his life now... Perhaps the end of it.

Had it really been four days since the yacht caught fire, forcing them to jump overboard as flames bore down on them? Four days since his life of comfort and luxury ended? Four days since the rapidly sinking ship exploded into a million pieces?

The concussion from the blast had killed several passengers and crew in the water. The survivors, scattered into small groups, drifted away from one another and disappeared. Two days since he argued with his arrogant, spoiled, sister, about what they should do next.

She had only followed him because the older man floating aimlessly with them had disappeared overnight, and she realized her brother wasn't going to follow her orders to simply stay where they were awaiting rescue.

She followed him, bitching the entire time, because she was frightened of being left alone, and because he refused to give her one of the bottles of water he had strung around his neck. Now he wished he had. It would have been worth it to be rid of her.

Something flashed in the sky, and he realized it was lightning. He had a sudden vision of being struck by it on the suface of the water, his burnt body fuzed together with that of his sister's. A fitting end, he thought madly, fuzed together by burnt bone and flesh to a woman who had never liked him.

They came from a large, wealthy, important family. Only one sibling was younger than the two of them. The other six were older, and already well established.

Seeing as shipping was an important part of the family business, and seeing as the family's 900-Foot "Super" Yacht was making it's maiden voyage, and seeing as the two of them were available, they were chosen to represent the family on part of the ship's round the world voyage. They had actually been scheduled to disembark in a few days and fly home.

He realized he was no longer thinking clearly. He could stop, take a swallow of water, and perhaps die comfortably. Instead he pushed on. Why? What was the point? He should let go of the strap, stop struggling, and allow himself to sink into the ocean.

He could still die young and good looking, he reasoned, even if he did end up devoured by some monsterous sea creature.

Another flash of lightning, followed by a thunderous clap of thunder. He wanted to shout at the sky---

"Do it--Kill me--Get it over with!"

He dully became aware of a sound. Was it surf crashing against a shore? He couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, or if he actually heard it. He was in a state of muddled confusion.

Why hadn't he taken the older man's life vest when he had the chance? The old drunk had been nothing but trouble. He was severely burned, had several gaping wounds, and his bleeding threatened to attract sharks. He kept begging to die.

Micheal had only two bottles of water strung around his neck to keep him afloat. That third night, as his sister dozed, the dying man suddenly removed his life vest and vanished. By the time Micheal realized what had happened, the vest had floated off in the darkness.

His foot pressed down against something, or so he thought. It was hard to feel anything. Was it a shark passing beneath him? Had he pushed off against some agressive fish that was going to circle around and bite him in half?

His other foot pressed down on the creature, which was hovering below him, preparing to attack. Dimly, as if from far away, the thought formed in his mind that it wasn't a creature at all. His feet had touched sand, or mud, or a combination of both.

He had encountered a severely sloping landmass of some sort. His body was being pressed against it forcefully by the ocean. He was helpless at first, but then everything seemed to come into focus.

He realized he was no longer swimming, he was wading. Wading through neck deep water, his head back, struggling to breath, as the heavy, foaming, surf, pushed him on. He stumbled, but found his footing. He was swiftly shoved into chest deep water.

In a moment of clarity, he realized the strap was still in his teeth, working against him, slowing him down. He took it in one of his hands, barely able to hold it, and pulled without looking back.

Waist deep water... Thigh deep... Knee deep... He stumbled on, moving through the darkness, the weight of his sister bouncing around like a cork behind him. Another flash crackled across the sky, and for a moment he saw he was on some sort of a beach.

The island!

Just like that, he had made it to the island. He wanted to whoop and shout. He wanted to laugh out loud. He wanted to check if his ornery sister was still alive so he could wake her up, show her where they were, proving he'd been right to make a swim of it.

He dragged her away from where the surf pounded the beach, glad to be finally dropping the strap as he gasped for air. He felt detached from himself. He knew he still had a body, he just couldn't feel most of it.

He hadn't been eaten by sharks. He hadn't been forced below the waves and drowned. He felt his face. It was so dark he couldn't see his hands. He nearly poked himself in the eye. He knew he was whole, but it seemed his entire body had fallen asleep.

The thing to do now... What he should be doing now...

He felt himself falling. Falling in slow motion through a void of darkness. He hit hard and bounced, his face ending up in the sand. He turned his head slightly, smelling fish and rotten foliage. Another flash of lightning, then thunder, then blackness.

Quiet--Peaceful--Nothingness.

When he woke up it was morning. He must have been asleep for hours. He slowly sat up and looked around. One of the bottles he'd been carrying sat beside him in the sand. He swallowed what was left in it, crazy with thirst. Where was the other bottle? Where was his sister?

He was on a beach, perhaps a city block long. On each end was an outcropping of huge boulders. Had he come ashore in either of those places, he might have been smashed against the rocks and killed.

Directly in front of him, perhaps two hundred yards away, was a forest of greenery. It was made up of tall grass and palm trees. Beyond that, reaching up towards the cloudless sky, was what appeared to be a small, lush, green, mountain, flat on the top, which he guessed to be about five miles away.

Where was his combative sister? Had she been carried back out to sea? And where was the other bottle he'd been holding onto the last four days, containing the last swallow of water? He was going to have to find something to drink.

He realized all the vegetation he saw must have a water source. Was it frequent rain, or something else? He'd have to find out soon. He stood up, trying to get his bearings. Every muscle in his body ached.

It was then he noticed the footprints. They led away from the beach, into the tall grass which led to the palm trees. Obviously his sister's footprints. She hadn't been carried back out to sea after all. She wasn't dead. The bitch had stolen the other bottle of water, and left him to die on the beach.

He realized that was a bit harsh to be thinking. She had planted one of the bottles next to him in the sand, and taken the other with her. Where was she going? Did she have a plan? She wasn't the nicest person in the world, but she was far from stupid. She had probably gone searching for water.

He followed her tracks to where they disappeared into the tall grass. He hesitated. What might be lurking in the lush, green, growth? Poisonous Snakes? Stinging insects? Perhaps a crocodile, waiting patiently to attack.

As he stood there trying to decide if he should plunge ahead or not, he heard something moving towards him. He took a few steps back just as his sister appeared in front of him, carrying what looked like several green bowling balls.

"So, you're finally up," she sneered, pushing her way past him. "I thought you were dead when I woke up."

He realized she was carrying coconuts.

"Where did you find those?"

"About a hundred yards from here. There's a grove of coconut trees. They're all over the ground. There's liquid inside of 'em, if I can figure out how to crack 'em open.

"That was a smart idea," he said, following her back down to the beach.

"I'm surprised I had the energy to gather them up, after pulling you all night to get here."

"You pulled me," he said incredulously. "What are you talking about? We'd still be out there if it wasn't for me."

"Don't talk stupid," she snapped. "I'm the reason we're still alive. If it hadn't been for me, you'd have drowned for sure"

She dropped the coconuts in the sand and sat down next to them.

He stood looking down at her, realizing why it was so hard to get along with this woman who was two years older. Rather than admit she owed her life to her brother, she invented a story where she was the heroic one. Could she possibly believe what she was saying?

"Are you just going to stand there," she asked, irritation creeping into her voice, "or are you going to help me figure out a way to crack these open? In case you haven't noticed, we're all out of water."

He sat down reluctantly, not wanting to argue with her. Of all the people to be shipwrecked with, why did he have to find himself alone with her?

Why couldn't it have been that cute girl Cindy he'd spent so much time with on the yacht? He wondered if she were still alive. Plenty of people had made it into the water. Unfortunately, plenty of people hadn't.

He felt himself getting hard just thinking about Cindy, and half turned away so his sister wouldn't notice.

"Hey, airhead, are you going to help me or not? Maybe we could crack these open on those rocks over there. I don't know about you, but I'm getting pretty thirsty."

He reached into his front pants pocket and pulled out the knife he always carried, removing it from its sheath. It didn't look any worse for wear.

"When were you going to tell me you had that," his sister asked sarcastically.

"I'm telling you now, Michelle."

"Well hand it over, dumb ass."

He pulled it away as she reached for it.

"What's the big idea? Gimme."

"We need to figure this out," he told her. "Maybe if we half bury them in the sand, we can poke holes in the tops and get the liquid out that way. If we smash them against the rocks we'll lose most of the juice. We'll have to be careful, though. This knife is super sharp, and these coconuts are pretty hard."

His plan worked, and his sister actually praised his resourcefulness. They sucked the milk out of the five coconuts, and when both their thirsts were quenched, brought more back from the grove. Working together that first day, they managed to fill both his empty bottles with the life giving, milky looking, fluid.

That first night they slept on the beach, not too far from where the sand met the grass. Their second day on the island started off with an argument. After they'd both relieved themselves, Michelle wanted to make an SOS in the sand. She was convinced a plane would spot it and they'd be rescued.

Micheal pointed out they hadn't heard any planes, and it might take days before any arrived in the area. He knew for a fact the disaster had happened too quickly for a distress signal to be sent.

His stomach was growling, and he insisted food was their first priority. In the end he won the vicious debate, but she followed him away from the beach, griping and complaining.

Micheal's days as an eagle scout, something this particular sister always made fun of him about, were paying off. After two hours of foraging, they had gathered a breakfast of berries, and fiberish shoots of various plants. After cracking open two coconuts into several pieces against rocks, they ate the moist insides of both.

Still exhausted from their long swim, they napped after their breakfast, waking up when the sun was high in the sky. It was then Micheal realized they would have to stay out of the sunlight as much as possible. Already they were becoming deeply sunburned.

They spent the rest of that day in the grove, under the shelter of the trees. They didn't talk much until a falling coconut nearly decapitated Michelle. She responded with a string of obscenities directed at her brother, and started back for the beach just as the sun was setting.

So ended their second day on the island, and they slept again on the beach in the same spot. It became the place where they would sleep each night.

They fell into a routine that first week, foraging in the morning for a meal, and spending their days near the trees. When they scanned the ocean looking for ships, usually at dawn and dusk, they saw no signs of rescue. There were no ships to be seen, and certainly no airplanes overhead. It was as if they were the last two people on earth.

At the end of the week Micheal brought up his sister's SOS idea.

"What's the point," she answered crossly. "It's like you said. We haven't seen any planes. We're probably going to die here." Her voice cracked. "Just my luck, to die on this stinking island with you."

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Surprised by her unusual show of any emotion besides anger, and touched by her genuine sadness, Micheal didn't say anything nasty in return. Instead he said:

"I've been thinking about it. Maybe if we made it big enough, here on the beach using seaweed, a satellite might see it."

"Do satellites pass over here?"

"I'm not sure," he answered truthfully. "They might. It's worth a shot. And if a plane ever shows up, they'll see it for sure."

So they spent the better part of a day and half constructing a distress signal. It turned out being a lot of work, but when they were done, they were both satisfied with the results.

"Gosh I feel gross," Michelle announced when they'd finished. "We've been wearing the same clothes since we got here. We're both starting to smell."

"We could go for a swim," Micheal suggested.

"The water's too rough for that. We could end up in a serious undertow and drown. I'm surprised we even made it to the beach."

Michelle had spent a few years lifeguarding at a resort back home. They had all been forced by their wealthy parents to work blue collar jobs, a way for each of them to learn something about the "real" world.

Consequently, he believed she knew what she was talking about. Wisely she didn't mention anything about who towed whom to the island, as if she realized it would provoke an unproductive argument.

"It's fairly calm near those boulders," she said. "We could wash our clothes there, using the rocks to scrub them, then lay them out to dry."

"Let's try it," he said eagerly.

"Hold on, Buster." His sister was pointing in the opposite direction. "You clean up at that end of the beach, I'll clean up at this end."

"I knew that," Micheal said sheepishly.

Naked in the cove of rocks, Micheal soaked his clothes in the salt water several times, then began wringing them out as best he could. His heart pounded the entire time. The thought of his naked sister at the other end of the beach excited him terribly.

After laying his clothes out to dry, he washed himself off, which only excited him more. He felt he must be seriously deranged, but imagining his sister's hands on his body, helping him wash off the grime, was driving him wild.

As much of a bitch as she often was, twenty year old Michelle was a good looking woman. Her long legs, small waist, flat stomach, and well proportioned breasts, always attracted boyfriends, and she seemed to have a never ending parade of men interested in being around her.

With golden blond hair, and an upturned nose that had a sprinkling of freckles across it, she bordered on beautiful. When she wasn't being mean or short tempered, when she actually smiled, she could be quite stunning.

Micheal was touching himself as he thought about his sister, and then began stroking his erection as he envisioned her perfect smile and deep blue eyes. For the first time in his life, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her.