Savage (3 page)

W
hen I woke back up later
that morning, I found a full bowl of fresh water and a plate of fruit and fish waiting for me. Beside it rested one of the worn, water-damaged books I’d noticed yesterday morning, though I hadn’t read any of the titles. The one he’d set out for me was
Tarzan of the Apes
, which made me smile. He understood more than he let on, plus he had a sense of humor.

As I feasted on my breakfast and skimmed through the first chapter in the book, I made sure to finish the water before setting out for the day’s adventures. I hadn’t seen my Tarzan since early this morning—after riding his leg like a sex-crazed deviant—but I guessed he was out catching fish or foraging fruit or weaving something together. I didn’t know much of anything about surviving in a place like this, but he clearly did, so I needed to learn and contribute. Survival was a daily fight here, and it was a battle I wanted to take part in.

After lowering down from the hut, I scanned the beach and ocean for any sign of him, but he was nowhere to be found. After what had happened between us this morning, maybe I should have felt embarrassed or ashamed or awkward about confronting him again, but I felt the opposite. I felt empowered and strong, confident and capable. What had happened in that hut was nothing to be embarrassed about. It was special, and while I was looking forward to learning more about this person I’d been stranded on an island with, I was eager to keep exploring the chemistry I felt binding us closer together.

Today, I wandered down the opposite stretch of beach until I came to a rocky jetty that meant I’d either need to turn around and head back, or explore the forest behind me. Chewing on my lip as I approached the trees, I found they weren’t nearly as foreboding as they’d seemed from the ocean’s edge. The forest was thick with trees and webbed with a tangle of branches and leaves, but it was beautiful.

The ocean had claimed my shoes, so I made sure to study the ground as I moved through the trees. In time my feet would toughen up, but right now they felt every last poke of a twig or sliver of bark.

I didn’t want to wander too deep into the jungle for fear of getting lost, so I made sure to stay just close enough to the edge that I could still see the ocean. Until I figured out how large this island was, I didn’t want to risk moving much beyond home base. At least on my own. I guessed Tarzan knew every last rock and tree that made up this island, and I was hoping he’d eventually show me around.

About a half hour into my exploration, I heard some noises up ahead. Instead of turning around, I kept going, fairly confident it wasn’t some wild animal that would charge toward me.

As I followed the sounds through the trees, I saw him—hanging from a tall, leafy tree and hacking at big green things that looked like papayas. I rolled to a stop to watch Tarzan at the top of the tree, seeming perfectly at ease hanging twenty feet in the air, chopping down large pieces of fruit with a sharp rock. And how had he gotten up that thing in the first place? There weren’t any ladders out here, and this kind of tree didn’t have branches one could climb.

Swallowing, I realized he’d somehow managed to climb that thing unassisted, using nothing more than his body and the strength it possessed. I was in trouble. I wanted to be able to help, but I’d be lucky to make it up the first foot of that tree on my own. Forget about hanging from the top while I hacked down fruit.

Okay, so fruit gathering might not be the best thing for me to start out with, but there were other things.

Like fishing . . . with a spear.

Yeah, right. I’d barely managed to catch a fish when I had a pole, a worm hanging from the end of it, and a freshly stocked lake of trout. Spear fishing was out of the question unless we wanted to starve.

So gathering water. I could do that. Walk to the water source, fill up whatever water containers we had, and walk back. I could manage that . . . at least once I figured out where the water source was.

Leaning into a tree, I gave a frustrated sigh. I wasn’t used to feeling so helpless and dependent on someone else for my survival. I was used to taking care of myself and depending on no one. Had I made it to shore on my own, I would be rapping on death’s door. If it hadn’t been for him taking care of me, I wouldn’t be here much longer. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be here at all.

Even though having to rely on someone else was a foreign feeling, and a slightly uncomfortable one, I also accepted it wasn’t so bad either. We humans were created for companionship and connection, to lean on others when we needed to and to be strong for those who needed to lean on us. We were created for relationships, and even though this one redefined unique, it was special. I needed him to survive, at least until I could figure it out on my own, and even then, I’d still need him for my soul’s survival. And even though he’d clearly made it out here on his own for god knew how many years, I noticed something in his eyes when he looked at me that told me he needed me too.

Once he’d finished chopping papayas from the tree, I started gathering as many as I could carry. If he noticed me as he made his climb down the tree, he didn’t acknowledge me. Instead, once his feet touched the ground, he collected the remaining papayas, plucked a few out of my hold to lighten my load, then started back toward the beach.

Despite what had happened in the hut earlier this morning, neither one of us seemed to harbor any awkwardness as we moved side-by-side down the beach. In any other situation, there would have been weirdness. Lots of it. But something about this island and my experience on it thus far shifted all prior held notions. Life here was stripped of all the unnecessary clutter, the extraneous fluff, and the incessant bullshit. Life was in its rawest state out here.

Maybe that was why, for the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt calm instead of confusion.

As we continued down the beach, the journey started to take its toll on me. Especially with the added weight of the papayas. I didn’t say anything—I didn’t so much as grunt once in exhaustion—but after coming to an abrupt stop, Tarzan collected papayas from me, leaving only a couple for me to manage the rest of the way back.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting I had to get a hell of a lot stronger if I wanted to keep up out here. The world had made me soft, but this island would change that. Realizing that made the journey back to the hut go quickly. I could already feel myself getting stronger, not just in physicality but in my mind as well.

Once we stopped by the big palm tree in front of the hut, he took the papayas from me and set them down. Then he took that sharp rock and hacked into one of the riper-looking pieces of fruit. He cut through it faster than I could have with a sharp kitchen knife, then he held out the larger half.

“Mine,” he said, lifting the fruit closer when I took a moment too long to take it.

My eyebrows knitted with confusion. If that was his, why was he holding it out for me?

“Mine,” he repeated, practically dropping it into my hands when I stayed frozen.

Still trying to figure out what he was saying, I managed to grab the fruit before it fell to the sand. Was this his way of stating that this was his fruit he’d gathered and prepared so that I’d realize I was somehow in his debt? Was it his way of letting me know that I owed him and when the time came, he expected me to pay up? Or was
mine
some word he’d latched onto and substituted it for every other word in the English language? For all I knew,
mine
could have been a word in a different language that meant something else entirely.

I didn’t know. But as he stood there, holding his lesser half of the fruit and waiting for me to take the first bite, I accepted that I didn’t need to know. Wherever this journey led, wherever I wound up as a result, I’d found a measure of peace I hadn’t expected to ever really find in this lifetime. Whatever came next was an afterthought because, for the first time in my life, my soul felt at rest.

Taking a bite, I smiled at him as I savored the juicy sweetness of the fruit. “Good.” I took another bite, feeling juice run down my chin. “Thank you.”

Tarzan watched me eat, his light eyes softening just enough for me to notice. He gently drew my hand to his chest. Holding it there, he pressed my palm into it. His eyes never broke contact once.

“Mine.”

A
fter the first
few days went by, I lost track of time. I didn’t worry about keeping track of the days that passed because they didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know if it was Thursday or Friday or how many days I’d been missing. I didn’t need to worry about appointments or showing up on time or anything like that. I didn’t need to know the exact time, at least not past what the sun’s position in the sky could tell me. Sunrises bled into sunsets, days drifted into weeks, until my life before the island felt almost like a dream.

In the time I’d been on the island, I’d gotten stronger. Not only had I learned where the fresh water sources were so I could make water runs, I’d figured out how to climb a papaya tree all on my own. I kept to the shorter ones still, but it wouldn’t be long before I’d be scaling the tall ones Tarzan did. He’d managed to teach me everything through demonstration, as he remained silent, other than throwing out his favorite one-syllable word every so often.

I’d managed to learn from him everything I needed to know in order to survive, without him speaking a single word of instruction. Our connection had deepened, almost to the point I felt as though I could read his thoughts at times and I knew that there’d been times he’d read mine. It was odd how silence could be so telling. How quiet could be so revealing.

I still didn’t know his name or his story or his history, but I didn’t need to know any of that to feel like I knew him. I think he felt the same way about me.

We settled into a routine that didn’t change much on any given day. Every night we fell asleep the way we had that first night after the storm, our bodies fitted together, his strong arms sheltering me. Every morning we woke up together, his body giving mine the same kind of pleasure. He held me close until I stopped quivering in his arms, then he headed out to catch our breakfast. He never allowed me to repay the favor, despite my regular attempts. I knew he was just as aroused as I was—I could feel it every morning straining against my body—but he wouldn’t allow reciprocation. He gave me mine, then he carried on with the day.

No matter how insistent I was or how many attempts I made, he wouldn’t allow it. After holding my wrists behind my back until I stopped struggling, he’d move his mouth outside of my ear and whisper that one word before leaving.

It was exhausting and confounding all at once, but it never stopped me from letting his leg nudge between mine every morning. It never stopped me from throwing my head back against him and crying out as I came undone.

I guessed he had a reason for not letting me give him the same kind of pleasure, but I didn’t have to first clue as to why.

It was late in the afternoon, and like most of my days on the island, I hadn’t seen Tarzan since this morning. Every once in a while I’d catch him watching me from some perch in a tree, but we both had our chores to get done. Unlike back home where life wouldn’t cease to exist if the laundry didn’t get done, life here really could cease to exist if we didn’t see to our daily tasks.

I’d spent most of the day gathering breadfruit and hauling it back to camp, and I was taking a brief break in the shade of our palm tree, staring out at the ocean. It looked so calm, so gentle right now—I knew how quickly that could change.

Fishing with a spear continued to be my nemesis, no matter how many times Tarzan had demonstrated his technique for spearing fish. I had yet to spear a fish on my own, though I’d come close several times.

He always made sure to be there whenever I attempted it—probably worried I was going to spear my foot instead—but determination flooded my gut the longer I stared at the ocean. I felt as though it were taunting me. I could take care of our water needs, I could collect fruit, and I was learning how to weave different kinds of organic materials to fashion rope, but I couldn’t successfully fish. Yet.

This was the day to change that.

Rising from the sand, I grabbed one of Tarzan’s spears he had propped against the tree, then I started toward the water. I was still wearing the lab coat, but it had ripped and frayed to the point of it nearing its expiration date. I might as well have just traipsed about mostly naked like Tarzan, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to it. The sun had darkened my skin to a nice caramel brown, so I didn’t burn anymore, and my eyes had finally gotten used to the bright glare that was ever present during the day. The bottoms of my feet had toughened up, and thanks to the sun, my light hair had bleached out to the point it was almost white.

It was odd how I already felt adapted to the island in the weeks, or months, since I’d arrived, yet I’d never felt like I’d adapted to my life before.

The ocean water was warm but refreshing against the heat of the late afternoon sun. I made sure to watch my steps as I moved farther out, careful not to step on a jellyfish or any other breed of creature Tarzan had pointed out that could be deadly if stepped on just right.

I waded out until I was almost up to my hips in water. This same level of water only came up to Tarzan’s knees, but that was one of the perks to being a giant. Once I found a spot where I had good footing, I waited. Patience was just as important in the skill of fishing as the actual spearing was. Depending on the day, it might take up to a half an hour for the fish to swim their way back into the disturbed water. On a good day, it only took a few minutes, but that was rare.

Today was a rare day, I noticed with a smile as a couple of brightly colored fish swam into view. I held my spear in striking position, just as I’d been taught, trying not to move a single muscle. Any movement, and the fish would disappear in a flash.

A few more shot into view, swimming more erratically than I was used to. Generally they seemed to glide along the ocean floor in a steady pace, but today, they were bolting, then slowing, then bolting again.

Strange. It was going to make catching one of those suckers that much harder. I could feel sweat running down my neck, my arms starting to burn from holding the spear the way I was, but I didn’t move. I was going to do it. Today I was going to catch my first fish.

When a decent-sized yellow fish swam so close it brushed my ankle with its tailfin, I went into motion. Driving the spear through the water with all of the force and precision I’d been taught, I felt my spear connect with something other than sand. Blinking salt water out of my eyes, I felt my mouth open when I looked into the water and found the yellow fish on the end of my spear.

I’d done it. I’d passed all island survivalist skills at last. Just as I was opening my mouth to let out a little hoot of excitement, I felt something else brush past my ankles. This wasn’t so small though.

Instead of a shout of excitement, one of fear rose out of my throat as the large gray body of a shark came into view. The shark must have been the reason for the fish acting so erratically. It must have been near and drawn even closer by the blood I’d just spilled into the water from my fresh catch. Another scream spilled from my mouth.

Run, Jane
.
The beach is only a few meters back. Just run.

The words cycled through my head, but I couldn’t move. Fear struck me frozen as the sight of the shark’s fin cut through the surface.

A crash of water sounded behind me right before I caught sight of something breaking into view beside me. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t have time to process what he’d just said before he threw himself in front of me, wound his arms around my body, and rushed me up to the beach. Water surged around his body, my heart pounded in my eardrums, and every second that passed seemed to span an entire lifetime. We were halfway to shore when he cried out, his eyes squeezing shut in pain, but he kept rushing me out of the water and didn’t stop until I was on dry sand.

“Stay here,” he ordered. After taking the spear from my shaking hand, he kicked the fish off the spearhead and turned back toward the water.

He wasn’t moving right. His steps were uneven. Right before he charged back into the water with his spear in hand, I noticed his calf. Tiny rivers of blood were winding down it, swirling into the water before his leg disappeared beneath it. He’d been bitten. By a shark.

The same shark he was swimming back into the water with.