Lost Paradise (The Savages of the Blue Lagoon)

20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

After listening to Eve and Byron’s adventures with the cannibals, I decided to fuck off to the beach, using the excuse that I would be catching today's dinner with Astro. But I just needed to get away from them four. The way the three address Eve like some loved-up imbeciles makes me want to hurl.

There’s nothing wrong with Eve; she’s a lovely girl who is interesting to observe. When her lovers aren’t suffocating her, I’ll stare at her from afar.

Some might call it stalking.

I call it admiring.

Now, with Byron, they’re having a lovely foursome, although I doubt they’d tolerate any kind of menage with her because of the type of possessiveness those three blokes have. I bet Byron’s already planning a rota about who gets to sleep with Eve.

I, on the other hand, am comfortable in my own skin. I like to watch as much as be watched.

Enough said on that topic.

I search the beach and there’s so sign of Astro. Bastard’s running on thin ice with everyone here, and now that the Fantastic Four has become a force, I expect The Teacher will give him some ultimatum to sort his attitude out or send him packing to his own side of the island.

Astro isn’t as bad as he comes off. They haven’t yet seen his worth. He pulled his weight in muscle to get the sleeping hut ready for us. Didn’t complain once. He does his tasks with due diligence and delivers what is expected.

His fault is his bloody mouth and confident as fuck attitude.

And he fancies Eve so much that he can’t stand her. He would never admit it to anyone, so he fights it to subdue his attraction and ends up the arsehole he comes out as to everyone.

They should just fuck and get this tension over and done with because I’m pretty sure Eve is capable of taking my knife and stabbing Astro with it if he keeps taunting her as he does.

I brush my hand through my hair and search the empty beach area void of that arrogant chav.

“Oi! Astro!” I bellow out, my voice carried out to the ocean by the light sea breeze.

He is not at the tide pools, and I swear if this geezer is trying any more of his games, they’ll kick him off camp for sure this time.

And I’ll be the only one who’ll care enough to visit the bastard.

I rub my hand against my cheek. Damn it, I’ve got several days of hair growth, and it itches like hell. I heard the other blokes saying the same thing. Except for Byron, but he’s part Asian, and his genetics are too perfect for a human.

As I head back to camp, I look down and find a cowrie shell. Picking it up, I inspect its perfect shape and color, decide it’s a keeper, and pocket it inside my leather jacket.

“Hey, Jack,” I look up to find Mr. Coldwell approaching me. “Have you seen Astro? I’m putting together a small group to go check the markers Byron laid out.”

“I was just looking for him,” I explain.

He looks around as if half magically expecting the bloke to appear.

Eve joins us, looking all enchanting and surreal, holding two of the fishing spikes as she walks along the shore with her harem duo trailing behind her. She reminds me of Homer’s Illiad, Athena, radiant with her golden tresses cascading like sunlight, holding her spears with the grace of a warrior and the allure of a goddess, embodying beauty and boldness in every stride she makes in the light-colored sand.

“Here,” she holds both rods out to me, and rather than take them, I let her hold them out and stare at her. “I’m collecting fruit for dinner. I thought that’s why you’re here to catch some fish.” She looks at me, waiting for me to respond, but I can't help but be mesmerized by the tiny freckles scattered across her sunburnt nose.

“Astro’s gone AWOL; perhaps he’s gone to the lagoon,” Mr. Coldwell remarks to me as he observes Eve. I’m pretty sure her presence makes his knob hard. Not only is she the only female stranded with us, but she has to be beautiful, which makes the masculine pain in our lower regions harder to control.

“We were just there,” Eve says. “He’s not there.”

“Maybe he dropped down a large hole,” Byron mutters.

“Or even better, found some cave and decided it’s better there,” Zane chimes in.

“Hmm…I like the cave,” Eve muses. “Quite fitting for the caveman he is.”

I cock my head at her thoughtfully. Seems like all three have joined some hate bandwagon on Astro. Not blaming them, he’s been an arse to everyone but me. But that’s because I don’t join his attention-seeking triggers to rattle everyone. I could have been pissed off at him for trying to get me away from our house so he could have his party back at college, but then anger would consume me, and I wouldn’t have half the fun watching him and them battle it out.

Mr. Coldwell breathes out a sigh of frustration. He still thinks he’s responsible for all of us, but that ship sailed the moment he nailed Eve on the shore the first time. There’s no doubt he’s got my respect, and I’m smart enough to know not to mess with the lad who has the skills to kill a person within seconds. We’re all smart enough not to challenge the geezer, even Astro, who probably has the darkest history among us, but I’d take on any of the four, even Zane. He might be an all-star athlete, but he doesn’t have the skills to win a street fight.

Not yet, anyway.

But I doubt Mr. Coldwell plans to teach Zane the skills I know he picked up training with Takeda Shingen for a year in Japan. Shingen, a descendant of the famous samurai Sakamoto Ryoma, is mainly known as a Japanese Che Guevara.

He’s not aware of it, but our lives crossed when I was ten and he was fifteen. In one of my parents’ multiple separations they constantly have with each other, my mother fled to Okinawa Island. Chasing some summer fling, she met in the Canary Islands and dragged me with her. It wasn’t because of some maternal instinct that she couldn’t live without me; I was her showcase puppy dog to garner sympathy from people as a single mom. Her lover of the time was a general in the US Armed Forces stationed on the island, and Shingen was a visiting martial arts instructor at the bases. His prodigy, Mr. Coldwell, hung around the base where I lived, waiting for him .

From a kid's perspective, I thought he was the most incredible person since cartoons started having epic battles and Batman became gothic and darker. He was living with a real-life samurai warrior. Little did I know back then that such fighters no longer exist.

I also know Mr. Coldwell’s first name, but I’m playing along with the others because it’s fun to watch The Teacher all worked up and flustered.

“Let’s continue as planned to visit the area you marked,” he says to Byron and turns to Eve, “Can you arrange the dinner?”

Oh boy.

“Not a chance,” she says firmly. “I’m coming with you.”

I’m surprised she hasn’t blown a fuse with what he’s suggested.

“Someone has to prep dinner. You can’t fish in the dark.”

“Then you stay and prep it, and I’ll go with the others to the border.”

“Eve,” Mr. Coldwell rubs his temple, knowing anything he says now puts him in the dog house. “If something were to happen…”

“I don’t need you puffing your chest around me like some buffoon. I survived a plane crash, drowning, and being eaten by cannibals, and don’t get me started that none of you want my pussy going on strike on this stranded island, where I will parade naked all fucking day just to make your balls blue and painful.”

Fuck me.

I’ve always liked a woman with a bit of fire in her. Eve’s precisely the kind of plot twist that sets my soul blazing from a Manhattan society girl to a fierce Valkyrie.

I’d like her to use one of those spears she holds and have her carve her name on my chest.

If Mr. Coldwell continues his misogynistic attempts to keep Eve like his prized little mouse, I bet she will transform into a ruthless mythological warrioress.

“Maybe when Astro returns from whatever hole he’s crashed into, he can prep dinner,” I suggest, trying to keep the peace. I rarely intervene, but I’m eager to check out this magical border that Byron and Eve were on about earlier.

“Guaranteed he’ll be skipping back like a happy sailor to feed his Greek belly as soon as he smells the fish cooking over the fire,” Byron says with a snigger.

"Each of you grab a spear," Mr. Coldwell instructs, then addresses me, "Stick close to Eve. If there's trouble, you get her out of harm's way. Even if you need to toss her over the shoulder, your priority is to get her to safety."

“I heard that, jerk,” Eve snaps, her eyes flashing with defiance at him and then looking at me glaring, "Try tossing me over your shoulder, and this spear will find its way to your balls."

The stern gaze Mr. Coldwell gives me only reinforces the importance of his words. I nod, fully comprehending my role. No one’s going to challenge Eve, but she isn’t just anyone; she's unique, and it's our collective responsibility to shield her from any harm that may come her way.

Knowing there’s an indigenous tribe sharing the island who made it clear they have no intention of inviting us for tea only emphasizes that this island is not safe to go wandering around on your own.

Byron leads the pack to the border, and I remain at the end of the group as we trek our way through the dense undergrowth of the jungle. The further we go, the stifling heat and oppressive humidity weigh heavily upon us, clinging to our skin like a suffocating blanket.

I left my leather jacket behind back at camp, a choice I now appreciate as I trudge through, but the sweltering heat penetrates even the thin fabric of my black t-shirt, causing beads of sweat to trickle relentlessly down my spine.

This jungle is a fucking labyrinth of all sorts, and we push ourselves farther. Mr. Coldwell suddenly jolts and then freezes, holding up his hand for us to halt.

“Shit,” I hear Zane mutter and were suddenly shocked into high alert as a sinewy form slithers into our path.

The snake, sleek and menacing, coils itself defensively, its scales glistening in the speckled sunlight filtering through the dense trees above. Instinctively, a wave of fear ripples through the entire group, and there’s a sharp intake of breath from Eve as soon as she spots it.

But amidst the unease, I find myself strangely drawn to the creature before us. There’s this primal connection that pulses through me, an inexplicable bond that seems to transcend the fear gripping the others. I’m almost sure it’s a python, its powerful body poised for battle .

"Pythons stick close to their eggs. Most likely, that’s why she’s acting hostile; probably laid them recently close by," Byron remarks, his voice cutting through the tension. "But we're on a tropical island; they shouldn't be here.” There’s an edge of disbelief in his voice.

He’s right; the snake has no business on such a tropical island. How the fuck did it get here?

“Stick that fact right up there with the invisible border,” Eve says. “What should we do about the snake?”

“Well, the snake could make a nice meaty dinner,” Mr. Coldwell suggests. “But if she’s just laid eggs, we should leave her be.”

“If she’s laid eggs, there will be more of them,” Eve retorts. “We don’t have the necessary medicines if one of us gets bitten.”

“We are not going to kill her and go looking for the eggs,” he replies firmly. “We’ll just have to learn to live together.”

“You’re very na?ve,” she snaps. “It’s a predator, not a rabbit. It doesn’t just live with humans harmoniously.”

“Eve,” Mr. Coldwell says sharply and gives her a look that begs her to shut up.

“We’ll veer off the path and seek an alternative route that doesn’t interrupt the python,” he says, addressing the entire group and avoiding landing his eyes on Eve.

I think calling him na?ve hit a sensitive spot on his tits.

Regardless, and despite Eve’s frustration regarding Mr. Coldwell’s decision, we press on in silence.

“Do you think the cannibals got Astro? It’s unusual he’d be gone this long,” Eve asks, breaking the silence.

“I say good riddance to the bastard,” Zane snides.

“Hopefully, they eat his arrogant ego too,” Byron says.

“If he’s seen them before, he knows where they are. I doubt he would risk venturing near them alone,” Mr. Coldwell says. “I counted the spears. He didn’t take any. Astro might be a cocky bastard, but he isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t venture into dangerous territory unarmed.”

“We’re here,” Byron says, pointing at the palm leaves on the ground marked as an X style. I see three more rows ahead and some going across each other in rows.

“Past that last row,” Eve explains, “Is cannibal territory. They simply stood on that side, angry and waving their spears at us as if wanting to kill us but couldn’t.”

“So odd,” Zane says, following the border, Byron put down, “Do you think this divides the entire island?”

“But what is it that divides the island?” Mr. Coldwell says, looking eastwards. Then, as if he’s suddenly pulled by something, he begins running.

The others call out to him, but when he doesn’t respond, they start running towards him. This island is weird as fuck, and I’m not following them.

Mr. Coldwell picks up a torn khaki-colored fabric, waves it at us, and I follow over to join them.

“Is this from either of you?” he asks, observing Byron and Eve.

They all check out their clothes, but none are wearing anything matching the piece he holds.

“Astro?” Zane asks.

“It must be,” Byron says, looking around at our surroundings. “But why was here so far from camp?”

“Did you guys get into a fight last night?” Eve asks, and I tilt my head at her because I didn’t miss the concern in her voice.

“You know how it is with Astro. Last night, he took one step too far with everyone and his snarky remarks,” Mr. Coldwell says, putting the jersey strip of fabric in his pocket.

“Maybe he was looking to get back to the side he swam ashore,” Eve says. “I wouldn’t put it past the bastard that some plane stuff ended there, and he’s been keeping it quiet from us.”

It's quite a possibility, and Eve has Astro almost down to a T. She says she isn’t naturally smart, but I beg to disagree with her theory.

“We’ll wait until sundown,” Mr. Coldwell says. “If Astro doesn’t return, then we’ll need to send a search party to locate the natives' main camp to see if we can find any trace that Astro’s been kidnapped.”

“Bastard is probably with them trading arrogance tips,” Byron mutters, causing a little laughter from all of us.

“But where do we search for their camp?” Eve asks skeptically. “They could be anywhere, and maybe they have booby traps set up.

“I know how to get to their camp,” I say, and all four pairs of eyes land on me and remain speechless.