Beyond the Sea (12 page)

When he was finally full, Troy picked up the stick and poked the fire. “I’ll get some more wood on here.”

“
I think I’m going to turn in. We should really work on a shelter tomorrow.” Brian unfurled the mosquito net and one of the other flannel blankets several feet away, then unfolded the two silver emergency blankets. “I can sleep through anything, so don’t feel like you need to sleep right away too. It’s still early.” The face of his waterproof watch lit up. “Not even eight p.m.”

“
It’s okay. I’m beat. And yeah, a shelter.” Maybe they wouldn’t even need one. Yes, they’d be rescued soon, and sleeping under the stars wasn’t bad at all. The sky was clear for miles.

Brian unzipped a toiletry bag. “Good thing I didn’t bring my electric toothbrush.” He shot Troy a guilty look. “I don’t have an extra, though.”

“
Don’t worry about it.” Troy waved his hand dismissively. Truthfully, his teeth were coated with a layer of grossness, but they’d had so much else to deal with that he hadn’t given it much thought.

“
You can just use mine when I’m done. I don’t mind.” Brian squeezed a tiny blob of toothpaste onto his brush and took a swig of water from a bottle.

“
You sure?”

Brushing and pacing around, Brian nodded. When he was finished spitting into the scrub edging the jungle, he rinsed the bristles and put on another blob of paste before handing it to Troy.

Sweet Jesus.

Troy moaned softly, possibly never so glad to brush his teeth in his entire life as he was in that moment. The mint tasted incredible, and his mouth felt so fresh and alive. It was kind of weird using another guy’s toothbrush, but they were on a desert island and he’d take what he could get. Troy was sure to rinse it as well as he could without wasting too much water when he was done. He passed it back.

“
Thanks, man.”

“
No problem.” Brian poked through the rest of his bag and pulled out a washcloth. “We’ve got one little towel, at least.” He sighed. “Definitely no soap in there. Sorry.” He put his things away and got settled under his blanket, which crinkled as Brian fidgeted.

After slipping under the netting, Troy curled up with his blanket a foot away. “Well…good night.”

“
Night,” Brian murmured.

Brian soon snored softly, but it didn’t bother Troy. He’d always liked the sound of someone sleeping nearby, the heat of a body next to him. It was one of the best things about being in the band—he never lacked for company. He thought of Savannah with a sigh. What was she thinking now? Did she hate him?

Flicking through memories like the pages of a book, he thought of his old girlfriends. They’d all been fun, nice girls. He’d had good times with them, and the breakups had been made easier by Next Up’s endless touring. Probably made easier too on his part because he’d never loved them. He’d come closest with Savannah, but when he imagined his life and the person who would fill his heart and make him complete, it wasn’t her.

He snorted to himself. He’d been singing sappy ballads for too many years. Did love really fill anyone’s heart or make them complete? His parents had loved each other, but it hadn’t stopped his father from self-destructing. Troy wasn’t sure the kind of love he imagined—passionate, strong, and peaceful too—actually existed.

Brian rolled toward him, mumbling in his sleep. His silver blanket had slipped down, and Troy eased it up over his shoulders again. Brian’s mouth was slack, and the furrows in his brow were smoothed out. Troy hoped the headache would dissipate soon. The bruise on Brian’s forehead was still an angry purple shadow in the darkness. He said a quick prayer that it would heal soon.

Flattening out on his back as Brian breathed deeply beside him, Troy watched the stars, giving the unfamiliar constellations new names.

“
What?” Troy rolled over and opened his eyes, kicking the blanket. Wet splotches hit him, and he blinked at the sky. The stars had vanished. “Shit. Shit!”

As the sudden rain intensified, Brian bolted up. “Water. Quick, the bottles.” He tugged off the net.

Troy shook the cobwebs from his mind, made easier by the surprisingly cold rain now pouring down. Brian had left the suitcase lid open, and water splashed into it. They’d also collected all their empty plastic bottles, and now burrowed them upright in the wet sand.

“
What time is it?” Troy asked.

“
Just after eleven.”

“
Is that all?” It felt as if it should have almost been morning.

“
Afraid so. You want your poncho?”

“
A little late now.”

“
Indeed. We definitely need to work on a shelter.”

“
Maybe they’ll come in the morning.” Troy wiped water from his face, shivering.

A minute or so later, the rain stopped as if a giant faucet had been turned off. They screwed the caps back on all the bottles, and Brian zipped the suitcase, which was almost full. With the fire extinguished and the stars and moon blotted out, it was dark when they crawled back under the dripping net.

Shivering, they huddled closer together, only a few inches separating them. As the night wore on, Troy wished the stars would return.

“
You know how to make a teepee?” Brian looked up at Troy from the slender, downed trees they’d dragged from the mouth of the jungle. After a few moments, he pushed up his hat and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“
Oh, that wasn’t rhetorical? No, dude, I don’t know how to make a teepee. You were the Boy Scout, remember? I was too busy taking tap lessons.” Troy swatted away a fly and scratched his bare, mostly smooth chest, yawning widely.

They’d walked the length of the island at dawn after being rudely awoken by the honking, squawking parrots. It was about two miles or so long and half the width. Squinting into the distance, the other side of the island had appeared virtually identical and just as deserted.

To sea, there was nothing on that side either—not even a blip in the line of the horizon as the sun rose in the cloudless sky. Not wanting to exert themselves too much with a limited food and water supply, they’d returned, hauling any wood that looked useful. They’d swim around the cliff end of the island and walk down the other side another day. First, they needed to spend their energy on shelter and food.

And before that, Brian needed to sit for a minute. He rubbed the back of his neck, stretching his head left and then right. The headache had eased, although dull pressure still throbbed against his eyes. The sun’s glare was merciless.

“
Tap dancing? Really?”

Troy smirked. “Yep. Tap, jazz, ballet, hip-hop. Not to mention voice and acting lessons. Mom and Dad were obviously total stage parents. Dad had a vision.”

“
Did you want to do it?” Brian asked.

“
Sure. I liked it. But it wasn’t as if I had a choice. It was just what we did. It was our normal. Especially once Ty got started and they saw his potential. He was such a little ham.” Troy smiled fondly, his gaze going distant. “I was pretty good—worked hard and followed instructions. But Ty had that spark. Star quality, even back then.”

“
Did the other kids at school give you a hard time?”

Troy scoffed. “In LA? They were jealous, especially when Ty and I got the TV show. Then we got tutored on set anyway, so it didn’t matter what anyone thought.”

Brian couldn’t imagine it. His upbringing with his grandparents in Western New York was positively quaint in comparison. The most exciting thing he did was an annual Buffalo Bills game with his grandmother. He smiled softly. Grandpa hadn’t cared for sports one way or the other, but Gran had been a football fanatic.

“
A teepee’s a triangle, right?” Troy asked. “Are these trees tall enough?”

“
As long as we have enough room to sit up comfortably, it doesn’t need to be super tall. Probably better if it isn’t. Less liable to blow over.” Brian sized up the trees. They were four or five inches in diameter, so should be sturdy.

They collected armfuls of palm fronds and spread them out far enough from the tree line that falling coconuts wouldn’t be an issue. A ton of fronds had ripped off during the storm, which was fortunate, since Brian didn’t enjoy the idea of climbing up a palm tree to cut some down.

“
Sure you’re feeling up to this?” Troy asked.

“
Yes, but thanks. Better today.” The pain
was
better, that was true. His head didn’t feel normal, but he kept that to himself as he reached up to take off his hat and poke at his forehead. “How’s the bruise?”

“
Turning into a sick-looking yellow. Getting better.”

Brian hesitated after putting his hat back on. “Sick as in cool, or sick as in sickly? Not sure what the kids are saying these days.”

Troy laughed. “The second one. Although it is pretty badass. Looks like you punched someone with your face.”

“
Thanks.” With a smile, Brian checked his watch and took out the mirror to do a sweep of the horizon. The sky was clear, perfect blue again. Not a cloud—or a plane. But he told himself it was only the second day the searchers would be out. There was still hope.

Faint, faint hope.

The silver emergency blankets were orange on one side, and they’d spread them out farther down the beach beyond the SOS, which they needed to finish. They put smaller rocks on the corners of the blankets. There was hardly any breeze to speak of, but they couldn’t afford to lose any of their supplies.

“
Okay, now what?” Troy asked. “You’re the teepee expert. If you need me to do a little soft shoe, I’ll be right here.”

“
Well,
expert
is overstating it greatly, but it’s a pretty basic principle. Stand the logs up in a circle and lean the tops together in a sort of triangle. Tie them with part of the rope, then cut off the rest so we still have a clothesline to hang wet stuff.”

“
Right. And how do we stop from getting wet ourselves?”

“
I’m thinking once we have enough wood for a solid base, we put the big orange blanket over the top. Use duct tape to secure it to the sides of the teepee. And we need to keep a space empty for a doorway. Won’t be perfect, but should keep the worst of the rain off.”

“
Sounds good. Worth a try.” Troy scanned the heavens, his hand shielding his eyes as he turned in a slow circle. He refocused on Brian. “Let’s do it. Doesn’t sound too hard.”

Half an hour later, Brian wiped sweat from his eyes and peeled off his tank top. “You jinxed it,” he grumbled.

They stood on the fronds, trying to get the logs to stay put and lean against each other. Brian’s arms shook as he struggled to hold two of them. “Okay, lower—right there.”

Of course as soon as they let go, the logs tumbled over. They sighed in unison. It was going to be a long day.

After much cursing and sweating, they assembled their teepee frame and lashed together the tops of the wood with duct tape and the cut piece of nylon rope. They draped the orange blanket over it, and of course it wasn’t even on all sides. But it would have to do, and they adjusted it as best they could before going around and taping down the edges to the frame.

Troy passed Brian the knife after cutting off another length of tape. “Did you always want to fly?”

Brian rolled his neck to ease the sudden tension. “I suppose.” He cringed internally at the lie and cleared his throat. “Yes, actually. Ever since I can remember. I loved model planes and anything to do with flying. When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut, but I wasn’t smart enough.”

“
Really? But you must have to be smart to be a pilot.”

He shrugged, slicing off more tape. “Smart enough. I got my degree in aeronautical engineering, then went to flight school. Started off with a regional airline and worked my way up.”

“
Have you ever flown the big jets?”

Brian inhaled and exhaled. “I have.”

“
Really? Cool! What’s that like?”

Images of blackened metal and white foam flashed into his mind. He wiped his forehead beneath his hat, sure that it had suddenly just gotten hotter. His skin prickled. “It was fine.”

“
How’d you end up in Australia doing private planes? You didn’t like working for a big airline anymore?”