JOSH
I floated in and out of awareness, my body heavy, my mind sluggish. Voices reached me as if from underwater–muffled, distant. I cracked an eye open, and the sunlight stabbing through the trees made me wince.
Sarah’s face swam into view, her brows furrowed, her lips moving as she pressed something cool to my forehead. “Josh?” she said, her voice trembling. “Stay with me, okay? Just hang on.”
I tried to answer, but my throat felt like sandpaper, and all I managed was a groan. My leg throbbed, sending sharp, relentless pain shooting up my body.
“Is he okay?” a familiar voice asked–Luke. His voice was rough, worried.
Sarah shook her head. “I think he has sepsis from the leg,” she said, her voice cracking. “His body isn’t winning the fight. We need to get him off this island. Soon.”
Sepsis. That word sliced through my foggy mind, triggering a wave of panic. I wasn’t ready to die. Not like this.
Luke went quiet, and for a moment, all I could hear was the sound of my ragged breathing and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Then he said, “Well, let’s get the fuck off this island then. I found the boat. We just need to get him there.”
Boat. That word pulled me further into consciousness. Had I
heard him right? Had Luke actually found a way off this forsaken place?
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Sarah’s face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. “You–you found a boat?”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “It’s anchored in a cove on the other side of the cliffs. You saved us, man, you and those journals.”
Her relief was palpable, but she didn’t waste time celebrating. She looked down at me, her eyes scanning my face. “We’re going to have to carry him,” she said, her tone firm. “There’s no way he can walk, and slinging him over your shoulder isn’t an option. His leg can’t handle it.”
Luke muttered something, but Sarah ignored him. She was already looking around, her mind clearly racing. Then she snapped her fingers. “The hammock,” she said. “We can use it as a stretcher. Tie the ends to some branches, and we can drag or carry him without jostling him too much.”
“Smart,” Luke said, his voice quieter now. “Really smart.”
I wanted to tell her she was brilliant, but my body refused to cooperate. Instead, I let my head roll to the side, silently praying they could pull this off.
The journey through the jungle was grueling. I drifted in and out, catching snippets of conversation and the sound of their labored breathing.
“Hold on, Josh,” Luke said at one point, his voice strained. “We‘ re almost there.”
The hammock swayed as they moved, and the uneven ground
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made every step a challenge. With every jolt, my leg screamed in protest, but I clenched my teeth, refusing to cry out.
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Branches scratched against my arms, and the smell of damp earth filled my nose. The jungle was alive with the sound of birds and insects, but all I could focus on was the pain and the faint voices of Sarah and Luke as they argued over the best way to maneuver around a fallen tree.
When we finally reached the cliffs, I cracked an eye open. The towering rock face loomed ahead, jagged and imposing.
“Here,” Sarah said, her voice breathless. “This way.”
They carried me along a narrow path that snaked down the side of the cliff, the ocean crashing against the rocks below. Every step felt precarious, and I held my breath, praying the hammock wouldn’t slip..
Luke’s voice broke through my haze.
“Almost there, man. Just hang on.”
I wanted to laugh at his optimism, but even that felt like too much effort.
The beach came into view at last, and relief washed over me like a wave. The sand was golden in the late afternoon sun, and the cove was calm, the water lapping gently at the shore.
“There it is,” Sarah said, her voice tight with emotion.
I turned my head just enough to see the boat anchored in the cove. It was small, weathered, but it looked like salvation.
“We made it,” Luke said, his voice soft.
Joal
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They set me down on the sand, and I sucked in a shaky breath, grateful to be off the hammock. Sarah knelt beside me, checking my pulse and murmuring words I couldn’t quite make out.
Luke stood a few feet away, staring at the boat. His shoulders were tense, his fists clenched at his sides. Then he turned to us, determination written all over his face.
“We’re getting off this island,” he said. “Today.”
I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. But as I lay there; staring up at the cliffs we’d just descended, a part of me wondered if it was already too late.
