Chapter Eleven
Gavin
It was our fourth day on the island and our shelter was coming along better than I had hoped it would, which, to be honest, wasn’t really saying much. I hadn’t thought that either of these people were going to be terribly effective at gathering the materials that were available on the island and converting them into any type of structure that was going to actually provide us with any protection. Eleanor had pretty much fallen right into step with what I anticipated, roaming around the island and doing nothing to help us with any of the preparations we were trying to make. In the time that we had been working, however, Hunter had surprised me. The man seemed distinctly more withdrawn than he had since they climbed onto my boat, but he was willingly going along with the project, working harder and with greater strength than I ever would have expected him to have. Though I was grateful for the benefit that the harder work offered the shelter construction, it didn’t escape me that this could make my job all the more difficult when it finally came time to finish it.
I turned my attention back to the shelter and surveyed what we had accomplished. We already had the basic shape of three rooms framed out with the stiff, sturdy stalks from palm trees and bamboo and were now concentrating on adding a roof that could protect us from the storm that seemed to be hovering just on the edge of happening, grumbling on the horizon like a really pissed off woman. As soon as I had noticed the clouds rolling in, I pushed the construction work into high gear, not wanting to get caught in another storm without anything to protect us. I knew that once we started seeing the wisps of black and red along the sky, heavy rain was soon to follow, and just as I had told Eleanor, when severe weather struck, we weren’t going to be able to rely on the boat to provide us with any form of shelter. Its structural integrity wasn’t enough for us to trust it, which meant that it was just us and the island.
I took the knife from between my teeth and started sawing through the thick stalk of bamboo in front of me, trying to decrease its integrity enough that he could snap it. The fibrous plant was giving its survival the old college try, but I wasn’t going to let it defeat me. I had already taken down a few dozen of its brothers, and I was going to get this one, too.
Oh, dear lord, I was starting to snap. I had inhabited the island with anthropomorphized bamboo. I don’t care how much money this job was worth, if the plants started talking back to me, I was leaving Eleanor behind and swimming to the next closest island.
"What are you doing?" Eleanor asked as she walked up behind me.
I turned around and noticed that she was wearing another of my shirts and a pair of running shorts rolled several times at the waist to keep them up. She was going through what little wardrobe I had on the boat with me fast and we hadn’t yet come up with a feasible solution for washing clothing unless we were going to get primal with it and start pounding my polyester blends and well-worn cotton on the rocks at the edge of the tidal pool.
"I'm cutting poles for the shelter,” I told her, not even trying to disguise the disdain I felt for her.
"What shelter?" she asked, her voice annoyingly high and innocent as if she had just wandered out of a five-star resort and really did have no idea what I was talking about.
I let out an exasperated sigh and started cutting through the pole again.
"We already had this discussion. A few times. We have to build a shelter if we’re going to get through our time on this island, however long that might be. That storm is going to be nasty and it’s going to get here soon.”
"I know what you’ve said,” Eleanor said, some of the sweetness gone, “I’m not as stupid as you would like to think that I am. But we haven't even planned anything. We haven't talked about where this shelter is going to be, much less how we should build it."
I was officially at a loss. Where in the living hell was this woman’s mind that she hadn’t noticed the work that Hunter and I had done already? She had spent the last two nights sleeping in the cabin of the boat, despite my greatest efforts at warning her not to because we didn’t know when the storm would hit, but that meant that she crossed onto the beach directly across from the shelter every morning. How could she not have noticed it?
"There doesn't need to be a 'we'," I said, finally snapping the stalk and tossing it aside. "Hunter and I can do it ourselves."
"Why should I listen to you?"
"What?" I asked.
"You're just going to take over everything and we're expected to just go along with it?"
"I was the only one who was doing anything until Hunter joined me, and I seem to be the only one who has any idea what we should do, so if you want to get through this, your only choice is to listen to me."
"That is not my only choice," Eleanor said, his voice raising higher. "I am more than capable of handling things myself.”
She sounded nothing short of indignant, but I could hear the tremble of emotion in her voice. I knew that there was much more to that statement than it held at face-value and my mind immediately flickered to my assignment. Who was this woman and what made her so damn important that I would be hired to come after her?
"Oh, so you've been marooned before? I'm sorry if I don't immediately have the utmost trust in Auntie Mame. I have extensive survivalist training and have spent weeks in the wild on my own."
“You have no idea what I’ve had to survive,” she growled at me. “They don’t make convenient little tools for what I went through.”
I could feel the anger coursing through me, tingling in my fingers and roaring in my ears. This bitch was becoming more trouble than I might be willing to deal with.
“Somehow I doubt that your privileged lily-white world has given you any of the experiences that I’ve had or offered you any of the skills that you’re going to need to get through this. It just so happens that I do have some of those skills, so you have the choice of either actually letting go of your desperate desire to control everyone around you and helping, or you can move your ass out of my way and be on your own. At this point you could tumble down one of the cliffs for all I care.”
Eleanor glared at me with fire in her eyes for a few long seconds before she spoke again.
“It’s going to start raining soon. Why don’t you put your dick away so you can actually get something done around here?"
I was stunned by her words. I wouldn't have expected that from her. Of course, I didn’t know her beyond the simple dossier that I was given when I was hired, but that had been enough to form my image of her. I knew what these wealthy women, women who had never known anything but power and privilege and walking on the backs of people who they saw as beneath them, were really like. It was this perception that made me capable of doing the things that I did. It was difficult for me to truly feel remorse when I felt like the people I was sent after had created this situation for themselves and likely deserved whatever was waiting for them. I didn’t know who Eleanor was or what she had done to cause so much anger toward her, but I wasn’t in the business of judgment. I didn’t have the luxury of assuming that there was good in everyone. In fact, it served me well to believe that people generally got what they had coming to them, and that in the greater scheme of life, the wealthier and more powerful the person, the more room they had in their lives to deserve what I facilitated. I had gone into this job with a picture of a polished, attractive middle-aged woman and the assumption that she was just like every other rich person I had ever encountered. Now that I was seeing her with the gloss of privilege washed away, however, I was seeing strength and edge that took me aback.
Just then, Hunter walked up, looking between us as if he could feel the tension that was still lingering there. Silently calling a truce so that we could do exactly what Eleanor had suggested and actually get something done, Eleanor and I followed him down to the beach where we sat down in the sand to plan out the rest of our shelter. Hunter and I showed her what we had already accomplished and we worked together to plan out the rest of what we would add to it. I had to stop myself from laughing when Eleanor asked in all seriousness if we were going to find a way to create a bathroom in our shelter.
An hour later, I was back to cutting the bamboo stalks, piling them carefully beside me so that Hunter and Eleanor could carry them over to the skeleton of our shelter. We had broken down the nets from the boat so that we could use the ropes to lash together the stalks, and though only a small portion of the shelter was finished, it finally seemed as though they were finally working with some semblance of cooperation.
"Ow! Motherfucker!"
Hunter's voice broke through the concentrated rhythm that I had fallen into over the last several hours of work and I nearly dropped my knife. I turned and rushed toward the direction of the shouts.
"What's going on?" Eleanor asked, running to catch up with me from the site of the shelter where we had been working.
"I don't know," I answered.
I could still hear Hunter muttering and groaning, and grisly thoughts crept into my mind. There were many dangers in the jungle, and I was afraid that we had been pushing ourselves too hard to get the shelter finished, putting us at risk. Finally, we found Hunter leaned against the wall just inside the mouth of a small cave. He was gripping his leg and I could see the faintest tinge of worry creeping over Hunter’s features.
"What is it?" I asked, crouching down beside him.
"Snake," Hunter said through gritted teeth. "I found another little creek a few yards away and was getting some water. Apparently, he didn't appreciate the company."
He groaned again and closed his eyes, arching slightly as if the pain was intensifying with each moment. I reached out and rested my hand on Hunter's to pull it away from the wound. Hunter relinquished his grip on the bite and I looked down at his leg. Narrow rivulets of blood trickled from the deep punctures and the wound was already beginning to swell. All of the conflict that had occurred among the three of us went to the back of my mind and I felt myself going into action.
"Are you going to suck out the venom?" Eleanor asked.
I have expected her to get the vapors. I gave a short, mirthless laugh and shook my head.
"You've been watching too many cowboy movies," I said. "Snake venom moves through the body so quickly it is next to impossible to actually suck it out of a bite. Doing that could actually introduce bacteria into the punctures that would make Hunter more vulnerable to infection."
While I was talking to Eleanor, I hadn't realized that Hunter's eyes had closed again and he was starting to shake. The shivering ramped up in intensity enough that I could feel it, and when I turned my attention back to Hunter, I could see that his face was soaked with sweat. Waves of concern washed over me and I silently cursed myself for not knowing where we were. At least if I had some idea of where the island was located geographically, I would have a better idea as to what species the snake might have been, and how dire the situation truly was. I turned to Eleanor, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could so that the situation didn't become any scarier.
"Eleanor, I need you to go back down to the beach and bring up blankets, clothes, and as many kitchen supplies as you can. Please bring the black case that is in my clothes trunk, too."
Eleanor nodded and started away from us. I patted Hunter’s leg.
"It's going to be alright," I said.
The words seemed to comfort Hunter. His shaking had abated slightly and even though his eyes were still closed, it seemed that he was feeling less afraid. A few minutes later, Eleanor made it back to the cave carrying as much as she could. She laid everything out on the ground and started back toward the shelter to gather what she hadn't been able to bring with her on the first trip.
I took a flask that we had salvaged from the boat's galley and splashed some of the rum onto the snakebite, hoping that it would kill as many germs as possible. I dressed the wound and then created a pallet on the floor of the cave. Before resting him onto the blankets, I held the flask to Hunter's lips. He took a few sips and then lowered himself down, resting his head on the clothes that I had fashioned into a pillow. I busied myself with moving the rest of the supplies into the cave and setting them up as best I could, knowing that Hunter would have to stay put for at least the next twenty-four hours. He wasn’t going to be able to get back to the beach or help with the shelter until he recovered from the bite, and from what I was seeing, there was a lingering worry in my mind that he might not get through it at all.