Castaways, page 2
He lowered his face down my abdomen, delicately grazing my body with his breath.
“You have to sssstop.” I pushed against him, still managing to be the voice of reason but slurring.
“Lizzie, just relax.” His words massaged my nether regions.
“Please, stop!” I pushed harder, but he didn't move, except to kiss my stomach again.
I took a last second to process everything in my foggy brain that was about to happen if I couldn't get him to listen. Did I have it in me to fight him off?
Austen’s fingers spidered their way up my thighs to my underwear, looping a finger on either side and dragging them off. They landed softly on the floor, amid an awkward moment of wide-eyed silence.
“Uhhhhhhh, for real”—I tapped his broad shoulders—”I'm saying no. Please stop.” My breath left my lips with a soft burst, made up of fear and a bit of nausea when I realized I might have to actually fight him on this.
“Lizzie, you want this too. You flirt with me all the time.” He tried to persuade me but everything changed before I could answer.
The bed shifted, rolling and landing us in a heap on the floor.
“What was that?” I shook my head, trying to rattle my brain back into position as pain shot through my entire body.
“Holy shit!” He pulled me into him and paused. “What was that?” He repeated my question as if he hadn’t heard me at all.
“I don’t know.” The room jerked and we slid across the floor. My back hit the wall, forcing another grunt from my lips as more pain seared up my spine. “Austen!” I wheezed out into the dark as I struggled to inhale. My drunken state stopped me from moving properly so the rolling boat controlled me.
“Something’s wrong. Come to my voice.” Nearly naked and scared, we crawled to each other, gripping in the dark, though seconds ago I had wanted nothing but to be away from him and to suffer with my drunkenness alone.
Screams in the distance joined what I assumed was maybe some part of the boat being torn apart as we jerked and flew across the room again.
Emergency lights flickered on, creating a reddish glow in the night, illuminating me grasping the dresser I was next to.
“Holy shit! I think we just—I think we just hit something.” He jumped up, lifting me with him. “We gotta get up top. Now!”
“What did we hit?” My voice trembled as I became lost in the weird emergency lighting and drunken half-naked mess I was.
“I don't know,” he shouted back over the noise that became louder as we were nearly thrown once more.
My legs struggled against the force of the boat, but my grip was strong, mostly driven by the terror that threatened to sober me up.
“Lizzie!” he hollered into a percussion of loud bangs, making me wonder if the boat had smashed into something. “We gotta go, now.” He grabbed at me, but I stumbled to the bed as the yacht jerked and groaned, grinding and crunching.
Shaking, I snatched clothes from the end of my bed, accidentally yanking up sheets as well and panicking to separate them from my pajamas. I managed to pull my tank top on before Austen clutched my hands and dragged me to the door.
“Wait!” I hollered in a struggle to get into my shorts and pull another tee shirt on.
“We don't have time for you to get dressed!” he yelled above the noise. “Stay together, don't let go!” In the background it sounded as if a monster was ripping the boat apart.
It had to be a monster on set in the green room.
It couldn't be real.
I was dreaming or hallucinating.
The groaning and creaking turned into growling rage and thundering explosions. I waited for the countdown to start before the action began but instead, Austen shouted, “Come on!”
“Where are we gonna go?” I yelled back while we made our way for the door, sliding with the boat and stumbling into furniture and walls.
“I don’t know. Up top.”
The hallway was empty apart from water gushing down the stairs at us, filling the space up to our ankles, with more coming in fast.
The boat did another roll to the side, smashing us into the wall as we tumbled down the hallway.
Salt water splashed into my mouth, making me gag again.
A thousand feelings, all made up of panic and fear, overwhelmed me.
Drunk or not, I understood what was happening.
It wasn't a green room or a hallucination.
We were taking on water and the boat was groaning and grinding against something.
“We need off this boat now!” Austen didn't let me go. His hands gripped so tightly I could barely stand the pain of them, but I didn't let go either.
We staggered and stumbled along the hallway, surrounded by the chaos of the vessel being torn apart. As we got to the staircase where the water cascaded down, the noise was too much.
My feet ceased to move.
My heart was racing too fast.
My breath grew ragged.
My eyes burned from the cold water mixing with my makeup.
Austen jerked to a halt when I didn't move with him.
He stared back at me. Maybe he saw it, the dead fear I suspected was on my face. I was drowning in it. “Lizzie, you okay?” He lost the urgency in his tone, speaking to me as one might a wild animal they were trying to calm.
When I didn't answer, he scooped me into his arms and carried me, taking the stairs two at a time as he shouted to someone else. Someone I couldn't see.
Through the noise and the water and the panic, I heard them—other people screaming.
I closed my eyes and told myself it was a ride.
A movie.
Fun.
None of this was real.
It was a green room and CGI, and any second the director would shout and end this.
I wasn't sure if it was raining or if the ocean was so rough the waves were pouring down on us, but I was already soaked in Austen’s arms.
When I opened my eyes again, he gave me a frightened stare before he spoke softly, “Hold your breath, Lizzie.” His whispered voice carried with it all the dread I was already sinking in. He swallowed hard and as something burst behind us, he jumped.
It took an eternity for us to land.
When the cool ocean hit, my eyes were still open.
The salt water crashed on me, pushing me down.
As I sank, the dark ocean filled with lights and thrashing movements.
The waves above churned and frothed but down here, in the rays of light from what must be fire and emergency lighting, it was calm. I was calm. I blinked, gradually moving with the objects around me—downward.
Everything sank slowly in the silence.
My arms lifted above my head and I realized I was alone. It was just me and debris. The thrashing was gone and the lights were becoming smaller. The water was colder. It was peaceful here. Slow and peaceful.
The peacefulness lasted but a moment before objects started to dance around me again. Something swirled in the water above, maybe someone was panicking.
But I was not.
I was numb, descending slowly and watching the lights dance, a show of ballerinas made of stars.
I blinked again when my hand was grabbed and I was jerked upward. As I broke the surface, sound switched on and the chaos I left a moment ago ripped through the air around me.
I was tossed about, twisting and turning.
Austen screaming my name from somewhere in the water was the last thing I heard before something hit me in the face and the lights went out.
Chapter Two
Morning, sunshine
Where am I?
What happened?
My hands dug in but there was no bed.
It was something else.
Something I couldn't place.
I dug my fingers in more, to figure it out or at least get my bearings.
Lying there, I shuddered while the worst hangover I’d ever had hit me with a crashing wave of throbbing pain.
I’d never felt this way before.
Alarmingly, it was what I thought a piece of two by four to the face or maybe a drug overdose might feel like. Maybe I was dead.
Since it was unlikely I’d been hit in the face by lumber or was dead, it had to be drugs.
Nancy, my PR person, was going to fire me.
Shit!
Why would I do drugs?
What did I do last night?
Even the questions hurt my brain as I struggled to recover the lost data.
Heat, shivers, and a strong desire to vomit overtook me every time I tried to move.
I attempted to open my eyes, but there was something in them. It scratched, making me hold my lids shut.
Pain seared from every inch of my body while I clung with sinking fingers to whatever I was on.
Maybe I was in a hospital.
Maybe I was genuinely sick.
Maybe I hadn’t done drugs at all.
I listened but there was no sound, just a dull ringing in my ears.
Fluttering my eyes again, I attempted to peek through one set of grainy lashes, but it burned so I sealed them shut again, too exhausted to panic but desperately wanting to do so.
Groaning, I forced a hand up to brush away what reminded me of a dried sugar scrub from one side of my face. My weak and trembling fingers weren’t as useful as they needed to be, and my face was covered in it. I wiped harder, realizing the grainy scrub covered my hands as well. I was adding to the problem.
Eventually, with exhausting amounts of effort, I managed to dust my hands off and got my face cleaned enough to open one eye, but all I saw was beige.
Blurry beige.
With confusion, I tried to take in my surroundings to solve the mystery of where I was, but what I saw made no sense.
It got worse as small grains of sand came into focus.
Sand?
Weird.
What kind of party ended this way?
Did we go to the beach?
Who was I with?
Clearly, I wasn't at the hospital.
I blinked as the sand bothered my eyes enough to make tears form. The burning tears flushed my eyes enough to clear my vision and brought a view I never expected into focus.
As far as I could see to the right, a long sandy beach with blue sky—the brightest blue sky ever—and a softly rolling ocean stretched out alongside me.
Why am I at the beach?
Is this Malibu?
In a haze of flashes, my brain attempted to piece together what I recalled.
Yacht.
Drunken me in the mirror.
Austen carrying me.
Weird noises.
Water flooding.
Screaming.
Cold sparkling water.
Fire.
It took seconds for the rest of the memories to filter back in, likely my mind was straining to rewind further than the bursts of detail.
Finally, the haze cleared and I recalled the last few days.
We were on vacation.
The yacht had been my idea.
We’d partied for days on our way to Bermuda from New York.
I accidentally made out with Jesse in a closet before dinner. Again. I really needed to stop doing that.
We ate sushi and I drank too much rum.
Correction.
I had drunk too much rum and then ate sushi.
There was the explanation for the hangover.
Stupid, Lizzie.
Before bed I’d drunk a ton of water to try to sober up so I could surprise Jesse in his room, but I didn't sober up. I felt worse.
I had staggered back to my room to find someone in my bed.
Austen.
My stomach tightened at the thought of that.
Everything went downhill from there, ending when we jumped into the ocean.
Lights danced around me.
Austen had saved me.
We were shipwreck—Austen?
Where is he?
Where is everyone else?
None of it felt real but my body ached in a way that scared me into thinking it was.
Trying to find all the answers to the questions racing through my mind, I stopped, realizing I was too drunk to remember all the details. And now I was too stunned to comprehend them.
Lifting my head away from the ocean was an experiment in pain, but I forced it, finding a forest of palms and huge bushes.
What the hell?
The ringing in my ears worsened, making me cringe in pain until it peaked and ended with a pop.
Sound clicked on as if my hearing was linked to my ability to move. Instead of ringing, the noise I heard could have been the soundtrack to a yoga meditation with the rolling of the waves over the sand, the wind in the trees, and the odd bird singing.
But this was no meditation.
This was something else.
It took me a moment to realize there was no boat on the beach.
No people.
No screaming.
No one but me.
Where’s everyone else?
Wincing again, I placed a sandy hand to the side of my face where my cheek throbbed to the same beat as my heart. I shivered in the warmth of the bright sunlight beating down on me. In the sand next to my other hand I noticed tiny footprints that resembled a mini super highway.
I followed the trail up the beach and forced my head to turn left, finding something surprising in my peripheral.
A body rested on the side of a small sand dune.
He lay facedown in only shorts, turned away from me.
He was motionless and I couldn’t tell if he was breathing.
What if he’s dead?
I tried to inhale deeply to shout to him, but my chest was tight as if a rope were wrapped around me, or one of those god-awful corsets from some of the movies I'd made.
I would have to go to him, but I couldn't muster the strength to get up.
Nearly every part of me wanted to remain still until it didn't hurt anymore, but my brain screamed for me to go to him.
What if he needs help?
What if he’s the only other person here?
Panic attempted to take over, but I didn't have the energy for it. I forced myself to my knees and took a breath while fighting the urge to throw up, something I suspected I’d already done a bit of. My throat hurt and my pasty mouth tasted funny.
I took an account of every inch of me, checking for damage.
There was no clicking or locking as I swayed, just aching and agony. I doubted anything was broken, maybe bruised and strained and battered.
My hands hurt as I moved, dragging myself to him.
I recognized him when I got closer. Austen Whitwicky. The guy who saved my life and compromised my reputation all in one night.
For a brief moment I blamed everything on him.
Had he not come to my room, maybe the boat wouldn't have sunk. It was irrational and fleeting, gone when I saw the slice on his arm. The sand under him was red. It looked fake.
But it wasn't.
“Austen! Can you hear me?” My voice was gravelly and my throat raw. When I got close enough, I shoved him. “Austen, wake up. Please, wake up.” I rocked him, making myself shudder with queasiness again.
Fears played part to panic when he didn’t move, but I lacked the energy to freak out.
Defeated, I leaned against him, noticing the warmth of his skin and wondering if it was the sun or if he was alive. My answer came the moment he jerked back to life, moaning, “Mom, I don't wanna get up.”
“Austen.” I gripped him, selfishly grateful not to be alone. “You’re alive.”
“Mom?” He twitched a bit before he turned his head and opened one eye, staring at me in silence.
“Hi.” I smiled.
“Lizzie?” he asked after a moment.
“Yeah.” My voice cracked more.
“Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” I said softly, holding back tears of relief, not because I was embarrassed to cry but because I suspected the tears would burn my throat and eyes more than they already were.
“The boat—oh my God, the boat. Holy shit, we made it?” His voice was raspy and his eyes bloodshot. The cut on his lip tore open again, oozing a little when he spoke, “I can't believe we made it. I can’t believe we crashed.”
“I know.”
“No really, I can’t believe we lived. I lost you in the water. I thought for sure you were gone and then you just floated to me. I saw your hand and I grabbed it.” He coughed and began moving other parts of his body as though he might try to get up. “Where’s everyone else?”
“No one’s here.” My lower lip quivered. “Maybe we’re all that survived.”
“Hey, don’t think like that.” He tried to smile. “We made it. I didn't think we would. It was so dark and the storm came out of nowhere. There was no storm in the weather report. This is not what I imagined would happen. Anyway”—his croaked words made it hard not to worry—”Pete's an incredible swimmer. So is Logan. Did you see anything from the boat—wreckage?”
“No. Sand and trees. We’re on a beach somewhere.” I scanned the beach, turning my head slowly, but there was no one. “We’re alone and the boat’s gone. Was anyone else alive when we jumped?” I recalled hearing screaming and shouting but it might have been my own.
“Yeah. I think so. I heard them when we were jumping. Everyone was panicking. We’ll find them.”
“I can’t believe this is real.”
“Being on a beach isn’t so bad. At least we aren’t at the bottom of the ocean. What a night.” He sighed as he blinked his eyes a few times, rubbing them to get the sand out.
“I guess.” I was freaking out on the inside. “How will rescuers find us if the boat sank? I don't have a cell phone on me or anything. Everything was on board.”
“They’ll find us. They’re probably already looking.” He hugged me, making me want to recoil after last night’s weird encounter, but I didn't. I needed the human contact and the hope he was full of. “Maybe there’s a town nearby. Something we can walk to. I don't know the coastline or islands near the Baham—I mean Bermuda. We might need to do some touring around to find our bearings. But we’ll be all right.” He pulled back and wiped my tears. “Oh wow, Lizzie. That's a good bruise right there.” He brushed his fingertips delicately over my sore cheek.
