Lost Paradise (The Savages of the Blue Lagoon)

26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

At first glance, it appears to be a body lying face down in the sand. The ocean must have carried it in.

Heart pounding, I take a hesitant step forward, my mind racing with a thousand questions. But the most prominent one plays over and over again.

Is the person alive?

Taking a deep breath, we propel forward with a glimmer of hope that we can save the person.

The four of us sprint across the sun-drenched sand towards the figure. A sense of urgency fueled every step. The grains of light-colored sand shift beneath our feet, the heat of the midday sun beating down relentlessly upon us. With each stride, the distance between us and the fallen figure closes until, finally, we reach our destination.

Kneeling beside the form, my heart sinks as I take in the sight before me. The person's body lay twisted and broken, their uniform tattered and soaked with seawater.

“It was unmistakably one of our pilots,” I say, turning away. The stench of decay hangs heavy in the air, a grim testament to the unforgiving embrace of the ocean’s elements.

“He’s dead,” Jack’s words cut through the solemn silence. "Look at the decomposition state. And... look,” he points, “half his brains are sticking out of his skull.”

“I think I’m going to be fucking sick,” Zane creases his entire face in disgust and looks away.

“It’s a chilling macabre yet captivating,” Jack stares at the body with a startling interest as if looking at a Picasso painting. “Intricate fractures adorn the skull like delicate spiderwebs. There's a haunting allure to it. The exposed brains shimmer with a sheen of memory; they once held everything there was about the man: his faith, his life, and his memories. Despite the gruesomeness, there's a poignant beauty in the fragility and resilience of humanity."

“You’re one sick fuck,” Astro says with amusement. “Strangely enough, I think that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

My jaw tightens at the gruesome description, and a flicker of sorrow passes through my eyes. This could have been any one of us.

"There's no need to recount the gory details," I say to Jack, my voice steady despite the heaviness in my chest. "We can all see it."

I rise to my feet, my gaze fixed on the wreckage around us.

“Zane and Astro, we need something large to fold the body on and carry it over somewhere inland. We’re going to bury this body, at least give him the dignity he deserves. He was our pilot, and now he’s dead, and we’re alive; it’s the decent thing to do. Jack, can you try to find somewhere closer to the jungle where the ground is still soft but not as sandy as the beach?”

The men step up to their tasks, and I look at the wreckage for anything wide enough that we could use as a shovel to dig. I come across some stranded clothes among the debris, a dirty white shirt, and some other tattered items that have almost disintegrated. But when I pull out a dark-colored fabric from under a metal part of the fuselage, I find it’s a pair of shorts that might be salvaged and nearby a metal square box.

Upon opening it, I find a collection of five eyeglasses.

“What is that?” one of the men nearby asks.

“I believe it’s Byron’s jackpot,” I say, and somehow, among all this solemn disaster, a little light breakthrough is always welcome.

“How many bloody pairs does the geezer need?”

“Apparently five,” I say, closing the box and tossing the items of clothing at Astro.

“Whose are these?” he asks.

“No idea, mate,” I reply, picking up a rather sizeable flat metal item, knowing there is still one more task that needs to be done.

“Did you find a spot?” I ask Jack, and he nods.

“Do we tell the others about this?” Zane asks as he lays the last piece of foliage over the shallow unmarked grave .

I swipe my arm across my brow. Not that it does anything to the sweat literally dripping from me. Jack hands me a coconut that he’s punctured a hole in. I take it with appreciation and drink profusely until the fruit gives me no more water.

“I don’t believe Eve needs to know about this,” I decide.

“So typical,” Astro says, picking up the garments I found on the shore earlier. He had rinsed them out in the seawater to get rid of the sand and debris and hung them out to dry on a tree branch.

“Care to elaborate?” I say, picking up my shirt from the same branch and putting it on, wishing I could have at least washed off the sweat from my body with some clean fresh water before doing so.

“You’re coddling her,” he says, putting his arms through the sleeves of the latest shirt I also found for him. It looks snug around his arms but is a general good fit. “Just like everyone in her life does. You can either earn her respect or be another servant who services her. You decide.”

“And why the fuck should anyone take any kind of advice from some fuck ass like yourself,” Zane responds.

“Because I’m the only one not even remotely interested in fucking her.”

I cast him a skeptical eye.

“Sure,” he says, putting on the shorts. “She’s a pretty bird, and maybe at one point, I would have fucked her when she was literally begging me for it. But all I see is a spoilt brat with a rich daddy who will disappear so far off your radars once we’re rescued, leaving you all in the dust.” He looks at each one of us. “Nah, I’m not into being her sex slave.”

“You’re wrong,” Zane insists. “You know nothing about Eve.”

“You’re also wrong,” Jack interjects, “I’m not fucking the wildcat. Yet. But I also think there’s more to Eve that none of you have unlocked about her.”

I’d love to believe what my heart tells me, but my brain has doubts. How much is Eve’s emotional status based on survival mode with five men on the island, and how much is real? She sought me out, the obvious leader of the pack, and convinced me to sleep with her, securing my place within the group and fortifying her protection under my authority.

“Cleopatra,” I blurt out.

“What?” Astro looks at me as if I’m barking mad.

“She’s Cleopatra,” I say, and all three look at me with a puzzled look.

“He’s lost the plot,” chimes Jack, and I huff a laugh at his suggestion.

“Cleopatra recognized the political power of sexual alliances she created with both Marc Antony and Julius Caesar,” I explain. “She wielded the political influence with both men, securing crucial military support and diplomatic protection for Egypt. Manipulating their affections, she safeguarded her kingdom, leveraging relationships to bolster defenses and maintain sovereignty. Cleopatra's unconventional methods cemented her legacy as a cunning leader in history.”

“I don’t see the connection between Cleopatra of Egypt and Eve Winters of New York,” Zanes says.

But I do.

And somehow, I’m not upset because, like Cleopatra, Eve’s moves involved a combination of genuine affection, political calculation, and the pursuit of mutual interests. She’s the perfect partner for me, and I believe her feelings for me are sincere, as they are for Zane and probably Byron. But she’s not a pushover and will walk away if one of us loses their usefulness.

Eve is astute, strategic, and discerning. She plays her game well, and while I don’t know if the other two realize similar about her, I know they recognize her for who she truly is. There is no lie when she shows her affection. She’s pragmatic about who she chooses to show her true nature to.

“Are those my fucking shorts?”

I turn to find Zane staring at Astro, and I cock my head to see how the two men will deal with this; if they will kill each other or find some mutual neutral zone.

“You want it back?” Astro says. “Because, unlike you, I’m happy in my own skin.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Zane sneers. “Keep the damn shorts. No one wants to see that ugly prick of yours.”

“I’ll keep the clothes, but after my near death experience, I’ve changed. I see how confined we’ve all been living. I’ve been set free from the restrictions of life.”

Zane shakes his head, “You’re full of shit. ”

“Come on,” I jump in, “carry only what you can. We should come back to pick up some of these metal parts. If they can float in water, they might be useful.”

“Are we sailing out of here?”

I don’t answer Zane, but I have the feeling that at some point, we may out-welcome our stay on this island and will need some form of a fast escape.

“It’s better to be prepared for anything,” I reply without delving into what I fear most.