Chapter 5 | Adam
Every part of Adam hurt.
Salt stung his eyes.
The sensation of floating. Floating in water?
He groaned and tried to sit up, thrown off balance briefly. His hand came down and sank into fine, gritty sand.
He rubbed at his face, which was a mistake. When he touched his forehead, Adam pried his eyes open slowly. At first, all he could see was the bright dazzle of white light through his narrow slits.
Sand so white, the sun glared off it.
Turning around and confused, Adam pushed upright and realized he was sitting waist deep in water. On a beach. Didn’t he just leave the beach?
Adam searched his memory. There was something he was missing… oh! He jerked around. The debris that floated in the water and washed up on the shore came into focus.
The plane. On his way to Miami, the plane went down. He remembered.
Struggling to his feet, Adam staggered and fell to his knees. He felt weak, and the waves lapping at the shore didn’t help with his balance.
Things were hanging from his body. The life vest. Yes, he remembered now. He’d put it on, then helped the man across from him when the plane was going down.
And his backpack? Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble out. He still had his backpack. It still hung from his chest. He remembered that, too. He didn’t want to lose his backpack, so he’d threaded his arms through it backward and hung it close to his chest.
Adam slowly crawled until he was out of the shallow water and onto the beach proper. He turned and sat, shrugging the backpack off along with the life vest so he could catch his breath.
He looked out at the ocean. All ocean and not a cloud in the sky.
As if he’d been plucked from a falling airplane and dropped there.
No sign of the storm, except for the bits of the plane scattered along the beach as far as he could see both to the left and to the right.
And a body.
Oh, God.
Adam struggled to his feet and stumble-ran to the nearest body. The lifeless eyes of the flight attendant stared up at the sky.
He threw himself backward. Panic swirled in a fury through his head. They had crashed. Who else survived?
Getting to his feet again, Adam fought his vertigo and the rising hysteria to stay upright.
Bodies floated in the water. No one moved with any sign of life.
What a cruel fate.
Adam couldn’t wrap his mind around the crash, let alone being the only survivor.
It’s not what happens to you; it’s what you do with it. Grannie’s voice flitted like a soft breeze through his mind.
It’s not what happens. Well, by any measure, this was a pretty big thing to happen. Adam wasn’t sure how to figure out what to do with it. Philosophical musing would have to wait. It seemed more like the right time for panic and hysteria, but Adam remained calm.
With grim resolve, he decided to search for survivors. There had to be someone. After all, he lived.
There were fewer bodies washed up than Adam recalled being on the flight. The body count raised his hopes that others weren't just washed up on other parts of the beach. They may’ve survived.
Food for the sharks? Adam shuddered, took a breath, and moved on.
A pilot, he assumed, judging by the epaulets on the body’s shoulder, was floating face down. No pulse.
The young woman who sat behind him. The same.
He didn't find her boyfriend.
Only one more body within sight. Adam saw the man who sat across from him now sprawled up on the beach. After all the other bodies, Adam didn’t think he’d find him alive either.
He turned the man over to check for a pulse, when the man’s eyes flew open, and he gasped, grabbing Adam’s arm in a tight grip.
“What?” he asked with a raw throat.
“Easy,” Adam said in a soothing voice. He knew that state of panic. It had worried at his heels ever since he woke up. Having something or someone else to focus on gave him the calm reserves to help. “Easy, there.”
The man struggled to sit up with a groan. “What happened?” He leaned forward to hold his head in his hands. “The plane… the plane!”
He flailed out and grabbed Adam in a panic. “The plane was going down!”
With wide eyes, Wade shifted to his knees. He cast a look around them and saw the same carnage Adam did. “Shit. Holy shit.”
Yeah, that about summed it up. Adam managed to prise open the man's fingers, releasing the grip, and pushed him back to sit. “Relax a bit.” He dragged his still-sopping wet backpack close and dug around. A bottle and a half of water. He pulled out the half-filled one first and uncapped it.
“Anyone else? Anyone else alive?”
Adam pressed the bottle into his hands. “Drink this. Slow sips.”
The man took it gratefully with shaking hands. Adam helped him get some water in his mouth. “And no. I haven’t found anyone else alive yet. Just you and me.”
Adam capped the bottle and put it back in his bag. Right now, they needed to get out of the sun. “Think you can stand?”
The man did a body check and then nodded. Adam helped him to his feet. Unsteady, it took him a few moments to find his land legs. Once Adam was confident the man would stay upright, he motioned for the tree line some fifty yards back from the beach. “Let’s get in the shade so we can think.”
“Right.” The man stumbled behind Adam as they slogged across the loose beach sand.
The sand gave way to some vegetation before they were tucked away in the shade of the large tropical trees. Adam thumbed at the familiar large waxy green leaf of the tree. “They had these kinds of trees back on Maona. I think we’re still in the archipelago.”
The man nodded. “Makes sense. I don’t remember being in the air that long before we started losing altitude.” He sank to the ground and braced his arms on his bent knees. “And you don’t think anyone else survived?”
“All the bodies we can see, I’ve checked. We're it.” Adam sat next to the man and mirrored his pose. Despair warred with panic and he closed his eyes to concentrate on his breathing.
“Wade.”
Adam’s eyes fluttered open. “I’m sorry?”
“My name’s Wade,” he said, through his palms pressed to his face. Wade smoothed his hands over his hair, then looked at the sand that coated them. “And you’re Adam.”
Adam smiled. “I’m flattered you remembered.” For a moment it felt like flirting. Normal behavior. Not normal circumstances.
“I’m surprised I did.” Wade traced a finger along his shoe sole. “Think they’ll come looking for us?”
“I know they will. I think the bigger question is, will they find us?” Adam shaded his eyes and looked up at the sky. “There’s no telling how far off course we drifted.” Either in the air or on the ocean.
“Right.” Wade brushed the sand from his hands. “I think we should probably count on being here a few nights.”
“Water and shelter. Maybe a way to build a fire. Those should be our two priorities right now. I have a little over one bottle of water. That won't last long. It’ll last us until tomorrow,” he added as he thought about calming his panicked companion. He stood and extended a hand to help Wade to his feet.
Wade took the offered help. “We have some daylight left before we need shelter and fire. Let’s search the beach. We should scavenge the stuff that’s washed up and see if there’s anything we can use.”
Now that the initial shock had worn off, Wade appeared much more clear-headed. A no-nonsense guy. A small thing to be grateful for. Adam’s own reserves of calm were going to fray under this stress. If he had to keep someone else pieced together, too, it would tax him pretty hard.
They split up, each heading in opposite directions. Searching for more survivors further out and looking for anything useful that may’ve washed up on land were their two objectives. In crisis mode, Adam’s mind worked overtime, wishing he’d paid closer attention to all those survival shows his grannie used to watch. That knowledge would’ve come in handy right about now.
One thing was abundantly clear to Adam as he walked: They were utterly alone.
There was no sign of habitation. No signs of tourist activity. No sign of fishing trawls working the sea.
Just Adam, the sand, the water and the silence, except for the breeze and the breaking waves on the shore.
At least he wasn't completely alone. He stopped to offer a silent thank you to the universe for bringing him Wade. Adam liked his solitude at the best of times, no doubt. He loved being alone with his thoughts most days, just him and the quiet as he grappled with all the issues of the modern world and its politics.
Here on this deserted island, the debate over which political party controlled the House and Senate was the last thing that Adam worried about. If Wade’s standoffishness on the plane was any indication, they might have a little trouble getting along.
But, then again, surviving had become the top priority.
Pieces of the wreckage were strewn along the shore as he walked. Battered suitcases and water-drenched clothing drifted lazily along the water line.
While not sure whether they'd be useful, Adam still took the time to pull them from the water and get them onto dry land. Once they were settled, he’d come back for the bodies, unless predators got to them first. With a deep breath, Adam pushed that thought away.
He found some of the metal from the craft, a large piece with jagged edges measuring about two feet square. Steadied into a stable position, it might be suitable to collect rainwater. Adam hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he knew they had to prepare for a long stay.
They were on a tropical island. It was going to rain. Most likely daily, depending on where they were in the Caribbean. And if not, they would still look for a source of fresh water they could boil and drink. In any case, metal equaled usable.
At the agreed-upon position of the sun in the sky, Adam gathered up several items that he felt might be immediately useful and started the long walk back to their origination point.
Already back from his scouting mission, Wade was tucked away in the safety of the tree line. When Adam approached, Wade waved him over. “I found a flat area further back there,” he pointed with a knife, “that will be a good place for setting up shelter.”
Adam’s attention followed the knife. “Where did you get that?”
Wade thumbed over his shoulder. “Someone’s luggage.” He held it up.
A big freaking knife. Sweet. A knife big enough to hack through stuff. “I wonder how they got that past security.”
“Really, Adam?” Wade gave him an incredulous look. “You haven’t forgotten what podunk island we flew out of, have you? It wasn’t like security was on their mind. Although I’m pretty sure Miami would’ve caught it and confiscated it.”
Adam snorted. “You have more faith in their abilities than I do at this point.”
Wade pointed at the metal in Adam’s hand. “What’s that?”
“I figured as soon as I find a big enough rock, I could beat this into a bowl-like thing. Collect water. Boil water. Stuff like that.” Adam turned it over in his hands carefully. It needed some cleaning up, but it would do the trick.
“Sounds good.” Wade pulled some of the clothing out of a pile. He slit the edge, then ripped off a strip. “These would make good bindings to tie our shelter together. I have some experience in making lean-tos from my Boy Scout days. I just need to remember. Memory is a bit rusty.”
“You’re further ahead than I am. So while you do that,” Adam said, putting his metal square to the side, “I’ll go see if I can find some tree limbs to make the supports.”
Adam paused just inside the tree line and watched Wade shrug his suit jacket off. Once more he felt thankful. Of anyone to be stranded on an island with, at least it was with someone who could keep their cool. And with Boy Scout skills, no less.
Here was hoping for the best until they were rescued.