Island
"What's with all the coconuts?" Shawn shouted across the narrow strip of beach to Emily.
"It is a deserted island, Shawn." She bent to pick up a palm branch that had fallen to the ground in last night's storm. They had been on the island for nearly two weeks and had already built a small shelter, found drinkable water, and a food source. If you can call coconuts a food source.
"All I am saying is that I would have imagined more fruit. A wild pig maybe. Even a pestering monkey I could skewer with a handmade spear! Kaa chow!" Shawn thrust the thick stick in his hand forward in a stabbing motion.
The storm also smashed their small hut. It had not been much more than a lean-to, but it did provide some shelter in the hottest part of the day. With nowhere to retreat from the sun this afternoon, and nowhere to sleep tonight, Emily had declared this a Work Day.
As they continued to work their way down the beach they gathered materials and spoke about life on the mainland. Both wondered aloud how long a rescue would take. And each one gave hopeful estimates. Another week. Not more than a month, certainly.
As they reached the coral outcrop which signaled the northernmost point of the island, Emily stopped dead in her tracks. Shawn continued on and stepped over the coral which protruded from the beach sand. "Shawn, look!"
First, he glanced back at Emily. Then he followed the invisible line from her fingertip to the object bobbing in the lagoon. From this distance, it was hard to discern what was floating there. But they both took off in a jog to retrieve the item.
Hauling the long crate to the shade of a coconut palm, they sat to catch their breath. Shawn bashed the seam of the box with a large stone, and it cracked. As the lid opened, their hopes of food and survival gear drifted away on the cloud of putrid stench that billowed out of the trunk.
"How in the world did he..." Emily stopped Shawn mid-sentence with a hand on his shoulder. She reached into the open container and removed a sheet of instructions with her shaking hand.
"It was a jettison pod. I think it must have malfunctioned." She looked down at the corpse's feet to find discarded wrappers and empty cans. "Otherwise, the instructions say, he could live off the freeze-dried provisions while he floated around waiting for the beacon to signal a rescue vessel." She dropped the thick plastic instruction sheet to the ground. An ocean breeze tumbled it into the lagoon. "How do you like that?"
"Sometimes you are the windshield. Sometimes you are the bug..." said Shawn.
THE END