See? You’re being ridiculous for nothing.

Food and shelter—ha! I would be off this island (if it even were an island) by lunchtime.

Striding forward with renewed purpose, I kept to the trails between tightly growing plants. I didn’t know the names. I was clueless what undergrowth I brushed against and what shade covered me.

Time lost all meaning as I kept moving. The air temperature increased until my tank top hung wetly with sweat as much as rainwater. Splices of sunshine kissed the forest floor, stealing the raindrops, reminding me that soon...there would be no water.

Drink. Before there’s nothing left.

I hated the instinctual reversion of my thoughts. Where had the sudden drive to store rainwater come from? Was I being overly pessimistic or cautiously smart?

In the end, it didn’t matter because I was thirsty again and found a few more leaves with fresh puddles. Cupping the greenery, I managed to scoop them from the forest floor and create a funnel so I didn’t lose the precious water, tipping mouthfuls down my throat.

Store it.

The thought came again, only more persistent. I would’ve willingly given in to my dominating mind but how? Store it in what? I hadn’t come equipped with bottles, decanters, and crystal glasses. I didn’t know how to weave a waterproof container from leaves.

I’m not a naturalist or botanist or survivalist.

I’m a lyricist and occasional singer.

Swiping away a pitiful tear, I moved onward. The longer I walked, the less dense the forest became. It took longer than I remembered to return to the crash and worry crept that I’d bypassed or taken a wrong turn.

The thinning undergrowth kept me going, however, encouraging me to follow the beckoning sunshine and soft crash of waves.

Waves.

A beach!

My walk became a painful jog. I burst from the trees and onto the soft sugar sand of a perfect bay.

Shielding my eyes from the sun’s glare, I made my way to the water’s edge and looked back. The lap of warm tide licked my ankles, filling my ballet shoes as my gaze landed on the storm-ravaged island.

All around me, the beach was littered with flotsam and jetsam of the tropics. A plastic bottle, smoothed and beaten flat by the waves, nestled in a vortex of seaweed.

The trees I’d just appeared from soared high but tentative, as if afraid the sky would slap them for being so prideful and riddle them with rain-bullets again.

Tropical colours sparkled, white sand glittered, and beauty existed in every inch of this wild, savage place.

Looking to my left, the beach disappeared around a bend, leading off to unknown territory. Looking to my right, the bay continued with sandy welcome until the same thing happened and the shoreline vanished. There was no inlet, no sandbank, no hint this island connected to a larger one or civilisation.

No sun-loungers or happy holidaymakers.

My heart did its best to reassure me. There was still more territory to explore, another coast to traipse, hope still lingering in the trees.

But for now, I had nothing left.

My worst fears suffocated me.

I’m alone.

On an island.

Turning to face the sea, my hope shattered and tears sprang to my eyes.

The island held no salvation but perhaps the ocean would.

A boat?

A plane?

My gaze bounced from whitecap to reef, searching.

But nothing.

Just pristine, perfect, periwinkle blue water.

Chapter Twelve

...............................................

G A L L O W A Y

......

DIZZINESS STOLE MY eyesight as I tried yet again to stand.

Come on. Get to your bloody feet!

I’d burned all the energy I had, ignored every minor cut and scrape, and done my best to stand on a severely broken ankle and leg.

I’d tried over and over again. I’d clung to the tree behind me. I’d crawled sideways, back-ways, front-ways (all which damn-near killed me) all in the name of getting off my ass.

But I couldn’t do it.

I was still ground-locked, reclining against the palm tree, doing my best not to focus on the resonating throb now that shock and adrenaline had left my system.

One more try.

Gathering everything I had left, I planted my hands into the mulch and pushed upward. My good leg bent, ready to hurl me upright, but the minute my broken one shifted with pressure, I collapsed with a shard of blistering agony.

“Goddammit!”

Balling my hands, I sucked in lungfuls of air. Frustration and fear sat in equal measures on my thoughts. The storm had passed, the sun had risen, and still, no one had come to investigate.

The fact that no one had appeared to rubberneck or call authorities gave me all the answers I needed.

This wasn’t an island with resorts and humans. This was an island that could very quickly become my grave if I didn’t get to my feet.

All my life, I’d been so confident, acting immortal in my younger years. I’d been arrogant with no thought to the consequences. After what happened with my mum, I’d learned a hard lesson: I was nothing.

And this...

This simple task of climbing to my feet taught me another lesson. I was useless. Completely utterly useless.

I punched the ground, adding bruised knuckles to my list of injuries.

A crash in the bushes wrenched my head up.

“Hello?”

The thought of company (even if they turned out to be cannibals) was a damn sight better than being on my own.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

The noise came again, followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.