Lost Paradise (The Savages of the Blue Lagoon)

30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Time isn’t on our side. Regardless of whatever level of intelligence the savages have, they will realize one of their spawns is missing and will start to entertain the possibility that it ventured to the prohibited side of their island.

We need to figure out what it is that causes the savages to stop at the border and not dare venture past it. I’m a firm believer in science and cannot sit and accept that it’s superstitious beliefs preventing them from attacking us. They look at us with a mix of hatred, venom, desire, and hunger. They hold the kind of contempt that festers deep within like an old wound never allowed to heal. This is more than simple hostility against foreigners on their island. It’s pure, unadulterated hatred.

There is something ancient and primal in their gaze, a loathing that feels as if it’s woven into their very being. It’s not just our presence they despise; it’s our very existence.

This isn't a simple territorial dispute; it’s a deep-seated enmity, a resentment that transcends reason.

The others dismiss my concerns, chalking it up to mere barbarism, but I see something more. There’s a spark in their eyes, a glint of something almost otherworldly. It’s as if they know something we don’t as if they guard a secret that fuels their hatred and binds them behind this invisible wall.

It’s something more profound, something that strikes at the core of who we are and what we represent to them. So many questions haunt me, gnawing at my mind during the long nights. There must be an answer, a truth hidden beneath layers of myth and legend.

I have to find it .

“I want to come with you,” Eve says, and the others object to her offer of joining me on my quest to the border.

“It’s not a good idea, darling,” Foster retorts. “There is no clear indicator where the border is. What if you venture by mistake on the other side? Or fall into another sinkhole like Zane did?”

“I could have said the same about you the other day,” she counters, “but there is the urgency to find out and prevent them from coming here, so I want to pitch in.”

“I agree with Foster,” I chime in.

“Plus, there’s the brat,” Astro says, and we all look at the child playing with some seashells we collected to keep her busy. “You can’t take it with you. What if the cannibals see it?”

“For the last time, asshole,” Eve says red-faced. “It’s a human and a female. It is a she .”

“What about if it doesn’t want to be a she? Why are you forcing a gender on it?” Astro muses, and I know he’s only doing it to rile Eve up. There is no way in Astro’s primitive mind that he gives a flying rat’s arse about gender sensitivities.

“Listen dickwad, on this island, there is only?.”

“And she needs her parents,” Foster butts in, interrupting Eve before she and Astro start another one of their tiffs that seems to be getting more frequent every day. “I’m going to sneak into their camp tonight and drop her in. Astro and Jack, since you both have been moonlighting as drug mules, you will show me how you’ve been getting in and out unnoticed.” He glances at Astro and changes his mind. “Jack, you’re leading this expedition.”

So Foster figured out the two bastards' little arrangement. I knew they were sneaking around behind all our backs but I’m not a snitch.

“How long did you know?” Jack asks Foster, casually leaning against the palm tree trunk. He seems unfazed by the revelation, effortlessly flicking his Zippo open and closed, the metallic click echoing with each precise, practiced motion.

“Not a lot will pass under my radar, Bancroft,” Foster replies, his eyes drifting to Eve and then back at Jack.

Eve and Jack?

Now, that’s a coupling I did not see coming.

“Astro and Jack, make sure the weapons are in order. We will need to split them down into two groups. One for us, and the others to be divided between Zane, Byron, and Eve. ”

I watch Eve’s eyes brighten with appreciation as Foster gazes at her with his decision, but there’s no missing the hesitancy in his eyes. I feel the same way, but Eve isn’t the kind of person to wrap up in wool.

“But—”

“The decision is made,” Foster interrupts Zane’s protest, which for sure would have been about Eve joining us. Foster holds a stern, serious face; he’s not accepting any countering from anyone.

"Jack, give Zane your knife," Foster instructs firmly. "He'll know how to use it effectively in an emergency."

“We’re the ones going into enemy territory,” objects Astro.

Foster’s gaze shifts to him, a silent intensity springing from his eyes, conveying an unspoken warning not to challenge his authority. It’s the kind of look that would send a chill down someone’s spine, a cautionary threat that I would never want to be the recipient of.

“A territory you have been getting in and out with ease. Albeit you got caught, just like you got caught by Hawthornes security, and now we’re all here in the same damn basket with you. So we are doing things based on decisions I make for your own safety. One more fuck-up, and I won’t be able to control what the others decide for you.”

“Are you saying this is my fault?” Astro looks at us incredulously. “Did I crash that bloody flippin’ plane?”

I remain silent because Foster admitted the truth of what we all feel.

The crashing of waves onto the shore fills the silence.

“Well?” Astro waits, but instead I pick up my shirt I had drying on the tree branch and put it on.

Eve and Zane go to the child and sit with her, showing her how to throw seashells into an empty coconut shell. Jack heads to the tools and weapons area while Foster goes back into the hut to grab his boots. Each of us resumes our tasks, leaving the London criminal standing like a bewildered totem pole, rigid and out of place amidst our purposeful activity.

“You’re all arseholes,” Astro mutters, snatching the knife Jack left on the stone we use for cutting our food. With a swift motion, he hurls it at the trunk of a palm tree. His aim is impressive, but no one is willing to give him the attention he craves. Instead, we continue with our chores, letting Astro stew in his own frustrated juices.

“Do you think we’ll find anything about the borders which the others hadn’t yesterday?” Eve asks as we trek through the jungle. I stop momentarily and look at Zane. He shrugs his shoulder at her, but his eye catches mine.

They told me about the pilot they found, but we all decided against telling Eve. I remove my newfound glasses, which the guys found from the plane wreck, swipe the sweat off my brow, and am about to reply, but something else catches my eye.

It can’t be.

Putting on my glasses to see better, I push aside the thick vines and gaze down, confused at the fruit before me.

Approaching the cluster of watermelons with cautious excitement, I crouch down, my muscles protesting from the exertion of our journey, and pluck one of the ripest fruits from the vine, its weight reassuringly heavy in my palms. Its vibrant green hues are a stark contrast to the surrounding foliage.

I hear the others approach either side of me.

“Zane, can I use the knife? If this is truly a watermelon, then it can be a resourceful way to hydrate ourselves other than using the coconuts and the water from the lagoon.”

“What is a watermelon doing growing in the middle of the jungle?” Eve asks.

“I don’t know,” I shake my head. “I’m just as perplexed as you are. There are so many unexplainable bizarre things on this island. This jungle, for example, is humid and damp as if we’re in the African basin, but there is no ocean in the Congo,” I explain, taking the knife Zane hands me.

Eagerly, I slice through the thick rind, releasing a burst of sweet, juicy aroma into the humid air. As the melon splits open, revealing its succulent yellow flesh glistening with moisture, my parched lips curl into a grateful smile.

“It’s yellow,” Zane says, confused.

“I’ve had yellow watermelons before,” Eve confirms. “They’re not as sweet as the red, but still pretty refreshing.

I cut a small piece and pop it in my mouth. Closing my eyes, I savor the cool, revitalizing essence of the fruit, a much-needed oasis in the heart of this hot jungle.

“Is it that good?” Zane asks skeptically.

I cut a large chunk of the fruit and hand it to him. He looks at me uncertainly, but Eve grabs it from my hand and immediately bites into it, her face lighting up as she lets out an exaggerated "ahh" and "ohh," clearly relishing the refreshing fruit.

I grin at Zane, who stares at her with amusement.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims with delight. “This has got to be the best watermelon I’ve ever had!”

“Okay, I’m hooked. I need to orgasm the same as her,” Zane huffs a laugh, and I chuckle as I cut him a slice and hand it over.

“Damn, it’s good,” Zane says, biting into it as he leans against the trunk of a tree.

Eve finds a spot to sit, and I join her on the ground.

We eat the remainder of the melon in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. My mind buzzes with a mix of contemplation and exhaustion.

"I don't know how much longer we can keep this up," I mutter, casting a weary glance at the endless expanse of greenery stretching before us. “We’ve been searching for hours. Yesterday’s expedition didn’t lead to any answers either.”

“Maybe it's just superstitions,” Zane says, referring to the invisible border.

I rub my temple and hand the knife back to him.

“As much as I’d love to leave it to that explanation, my mind will not allow it. I believe in science. I’m not religious. And this problem is metaphysic, not spiritualistic.”

Eve remains quiet, nodding in weary agreement, her face drawn with worry. I hate that I don’t have answers for her. Maybe it's that primal state I’m in with her, that the need to understand this island prevails so I can protect her better.

Suddenly, Zane becomes alive, and there is a sense of urgency in his movements.

“I’ll be right back,” he mutters, disappearing into the foliage with a sense of determination.

Minutes tick by in tense silence as Eve and I wait for Zane’s return.

“Do you want to continue, Firebug?” I ask Eve, and she smiles at my use of her pet name .

This expedition has been exhausting. She hasn’t complained once since we started hours earlier, but even I am fed up with achieving nothing.

“I want answers as much as you do,” she says, her voice tinged with weariness. “But what if we don’t find any? What if there’s something here, and we realize it too late? There’s so much unexplained stuff on this island, and I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe we’re looking too hard,” I say, a sigh of frustration escaping my lips. “It’s like the answers are hiding just out of reach, mocking us.”

Her eyes brighten as if a revelation has struck.

“I know you hate metaphorical theories, but I think you’re onto something with that statement.”

Zane finally emerges from the underbrush; his eyes are wide with excitement and disbelief.

“You won’t believe what I found!” he exclaims breathlessly, his words tumbling over one another in their haste. “I found a building! Like an actual manmade structure!”

My heart pounds with newfound hope.

“It looks abandoned, but it’s definitely a structure the savages didn’t create.”

With anticipation, the three of us set off once more, following Zane’s lead through the tangled wilderness. As we draw closer to the mysterious structure looming amidst the trees, I feel a surge of hope—the promise of answers and perhaps even salvation, beckoning me forward into the unknown.