Lost Paradise (The Savages of the Blue Lagoon)

37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

We trekked through the dense jungle, and Byron’s keen memory from his last visit made our journey to the abandoned Soviet bunker smoother.

In the end, Eve insisted we couldn't afford to be one man short, given the load we had to haul back, particularly the generator and the bottles of diesel we hoped Byron could produce. None of us were willing to leave her behind, especially overnight. It wasn’t about being misogynistic; this island is dangerous, teaming with savages who relish human flesh and stare at us as if we’re pure evil they’d like to have roasting on a rotating spit. So rather than argue her case about being left alone at camp, Eve said she would join us instead.

We’re currently at this dodgy old USSR compound where they conducted unfound tests on natives. A place I’m sure torture and manipulation were involved. I settle the last watermelon we collected along the way?another strange detail about this island. But knowing this island served as a covert mission for Cold War government scientists, things are beginning to make sense.

“That’ll do,” I say to no one in particular, staring at the stack of bright green fruit, and go to help Byron, who’s putting together a self-made stove for the oil cooking outside in the open clearing using different items we collected from inside.

“Do you think you can get this to work?” I ask, taking out my zippo, lighting some dried-out leaves and other dry tinder from one of the bags we brought with us, and tossing them under the makeshift stove.

I’m hoping he manages this because there’s only so much lighter fluid left in this zippo, and I don’t have the patience to start rubbing sticks together. I know it’s possible because I’ve seen Zane doing it, but better him doing such than me. No one’s tending to the fire we’ve left on the beach as our SOS beacon of hope, so it’ll probably be out by the time we return.

“Everything is a possibility,” Byron answers with a sly grin. “It’s all in the mind,” he says indicating his head.

“Well, I hope your mind gets this thing to work,” I say, and he chuckles.

“Dunno mate,” he says, fiddling with the ingredients

He put two pots with different concoctions on the stove to cook. He’s not sure of the exact formula, but he made notes, and hopefully, one of them will eventually convert.

I leave him with his experiments and the notes he’s been studying since yesterday. He claims Russian is like a code, and if he can work through it, he might find some semblance of what exactly they were doing out here, and maybe there’s something that’ll ensure the cannibals remain on their side.

The last thing we want is an all out bloody war on this island.

“I’ll go check what the others are doing,” I say, leaving Byron to his papers and pots. He glances up briefly to acknowledge my words and focuses back on his mission.

I step into the entrance of the facility, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the dirty windows. The others have made a pile of stuff to take back with us, a chaotic jumble of necessities and oddities. My gaze locks onto Eve, as it always does. She's dropping off a first aid kit and some more soap, her movements graceful despite the rough conditions.

Her messy light blonde hair cascades over her shoulders in tangled waves, a stark match to her pale legs, exposed by her frayed makeshift white denim shorts that are ripped and dirty. Her wrinkled white cotton shirt that’s seen better days clings to her frame, a far cry from the society girl she was before we became stranded on this godforsaken island. But somehow, here, she looks more natural, more beautiful.

I watch her casually wipe the sweat from her brow using the sleeve of her shirt, then untie the knot at the hem and slide it off her body. She takes the sleeves and ties them around her waist, leaving her in her white sports bra. Her bare shoulders and midriff are mesmerizing, a testament to her resilience and strength. Her tanned, freckled shoulders and arms catch my eye, glowing with a raw beauty that takes my breath away.

“This first aid kit’s expired, but it’s better than nothing,” Eve says, her voice like music to my ears. She glances at the pile, a wry smile playing on her lips. “The amount of soap they kept in storage here was crazy, but they didn’t leave an ounce of clothing except for this smelly wifebeater. After a good wash, it might be wearable.”

I furrow my brow at the unfamiliar term. “A wifebeater?”

Eve laughs, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine, and she holds up the dirty army green vest. “It’s a sleeveless undershirt, like the ones people wear under their clothes. A tank top for men. The name’s not exactly flattering.”

I chuckle, though my mind is elsewhere. There's a flicker of something deeper in Eve's eyes, a hint of turmoil that she hides well. I know she and Astro hooked up last night. It was bound to happen; the sexual tension between them was a fierce, catastrophic force, disrupting the group. Now, at least, there might be peace. Eve is the link that keeps us from fracturing completely, the bridge between the two factions that have formed—Team Foster and Team Astro.

I step closer to Eve, the scent of her hair intoxicating. “Are you okay?”

She sighs, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just trying to make sense of all this.” She gestures to the pile of supplies.

I reach out, my hand lingering on her shoulder. The contact sends a jolt through me, a reminder of our shared declaration of love. Yet, I can’t help but be fascinated by her, like a moth drawn to a flame.

As we sort through the items, I steal glances at Eve, marveling at her potency and her beauty. Even in this miserable place, she’s a vision. But there’s something else on her mind, something that seems to be on the edge of her tongue, and every time she looks at me wanting to talk about it, she chickens out.

“At some point, you’ll need to get whatever you want to say out,” I say abruptly.

She glances at me in deep thought, but our silence is interrupted by Astro, followed by Foster and Zane.

Astro, of course, makes a beeline for Eve. We all knew right from the start these two were drawn to each other like magnets, their unspoken attraction simmering beneath the surface of hot volcanic lava. The sexual tension was severe, a current that crackled between them, but no one dared question their animosity, veiled as it was in sharp words and clipped tones .

Since they strolled into camp holding hands last night, Astro can't keep his hands off Eve, as if he's the only guy fucking her. But he knows better than to try and claim her solely his. Eve would no sooner set him in place. It seems she enjoys his attention, reveling in the playful defiance that sparkles in her eyes when she swats him away.

Despite the complications, their bond has added a new dynamic to our group. It's a fragile peace, held together by unspoken agreements and shared goals. For now there’s harmony in the group and no one is going to question sleeping arrangements with Eve. She decides and we follow suit.

I don’t mind watching either. In fact, I love watching Eve get off with the others. I have enough spank bank visions of her to last me a lifetime. But I’m not a perv, not like Byron, who watches behind bushes and jerks off. I don’t hide, and I jerk off later. I’ve caught the lad a few times perving, but unlike Astro, who’ll call him out to the others, I retain such information.

“The geezer’s gone bonkers,” Astro says of Foster as Eve shoos him away as she counts the bars of soap she’s collected. “He thinks he can extend the life raft and keep us afloat for a couple of days.”

“Well, it’s our only hope of getting off this island,” Foster explains. “That raft will hold us for maybe a couple of days. We need sails to go far, and Eve and I both have yachting experience.”

“You’re going to build a yacht?” I ask Foster.

“Well, not a yacht but an extension with a sail because even if Byron’s diesel works, it’ll only last so much,” Foster explains. “Plus, I found some old tarp that I think we can use, and I’m good with my hands.”

“I can vouch for that!” Eve jumps in with a playful look, and her cheeks go red, as if we know exactly what she is referring to.

“Just Foster?” Zane asks with a sly grin.

“Hmm,” she says, heading outside without answering. Then, she turns her head at all of us and smiles. “All of you have your special talents,” she calls out.

“Aw, man, that woman…” Zane huffs a sigh.

“Is something else,” Foster finished off.

And while I’m not in the business of checking out other male appendages unless it's warranted, I’m pretty sure the others here are suffering stiffies, just as I am, watching her arse sway as it does as she walks away.

Through the open door, I watch her head outside to where Byron is. He gives her something to sniff and I watch them chat for a bit until my attention is turned to the other three here.

“I’ll need one of you to help me bring the generator outside,” Foster says, bringing our attention back to current issues.

“If Byron gets his experiment to work, I reckon we’ll need to switch between the five of us carrying the generator back to camp,” Astro suggests.

Ever since he got his dick serviced by Eve, he’s proving himself more and more. I nod in agreement.

“Good idea,” Foster says. “You and I, and Zane and Jack pair up. Byron will join in if someone from the pair needs a break.”

“Sound like a bloody orgie,” Astro says, causing us to chuckle.

“About that,” Zane says, launching into something he wants to plan for Eve.

It's past midday when the island begins its hottest time. The air is thick and oppressive, and the sun is a relentless force beating down on us. We've been at it for hours, and the weight of the heat and labor is starting to wear on everyone. The tall trees in the jungle provide good shade over this facility, but the humidity mixed with the heat makes it uncomfortable. Sweat clings to our clothes and skin, making every movement a chore.

Foster wipes his brow and glances at the sky. "We should take a break," he says, his voice carrying over the sounds of our work. "Let's sit outside where Byron and Zane are cooling down the diesel. They've already tested it and think it'll work, but I need to tinker with the machine to get it just right."

Everyone murmurs their agreement, grateful for the chance to rest. Eve and I have been splitting the watermelons we gathered earlier, the juicy flesh a welcome respite from the heat. She flashes me a smile, her eyes bright with the same determination I feel.

"We'll call everyone over to eat," I say, helping her load the chunks of watermelon into a large bowl. The cool, wet fruit is a balm against the day's heat.

We carry the bowl outside, where Byron and Zane are huddled over the makeshift distillation setup. The diesel they've been working on is cooling in a series of improvised containers, and the air is filled with the sharp scent of fuel. Foster moves over to join them, eager to apply his self-proclaimed engine expertise.

"Alright, everyone," Eve calls out, her voice clear and commanding. "Take a break and grab some watermelon."

The group gathers around, drawn by the promise of sweet, refreshing fruit. Astro edges up to Eve, his hand resting possessively on her waist. She swats him away playfully, a gleam of defiance in her eyes, but it's clear she enjoys the attention.

We settle down in the shade, the bowl of watermelon passing from hand to hand. The juicy pieces are a relief, the sweetness a brief escape from our reality. I lean against a tree, watching as the group relax for the first time today. Byron and Zane exchange a few words about the diesel, their expressions hopeful. Foster, already tinkering with the engine components, mutters to himself about the adjustments he plans to make.

Eve comes over and hands me another piece of fruit, her presence a calming force amidst the chaos. I steal glances at her, still captivated by her beauty even in these harsh conditions. Her hair glinting in the harsh sunlight. Her laughter rings out as she jokes with the others, a sound that lightens the oppressive air.

Astro, ever the flirt, nudges Eve with his shoulder. "Think this diesel will get us out of here?"

Eve smirks, taking a bite of watermelon. "If Foster can work his magic fingers, maybe."

Foster looks up from his tinkering, a confident grin spreading across his face. "I'll get it running. You can count on that."

Yet, despite the solidarity among the group, I can't shake the feeling that something is gnawing at Eve. Her eyes, the windows to her soul, reveal a depth of worry that she hasn't voiced.

“There’s a but in your unspoken voice,” I say quietly to Eve as the others talk among themselves.

She looks up at me, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You seem doubtful about Foster’s ability?”

“No. It’s not that.”

I bite into my watermelon as if I’m not expecting her to further elaborate, then toss the remaining skin behind me into the jungle. It’s biodegradable, and no one judges on littering here .

Eve sighs, her gaze distant. “Of course I want to be rescued. But I’m not sure I ever want to go home. Like Astro once said, it’s not really a home.”

Astro looks up, startled. “I never said—”

Eve holds up her hand to stop him. “But you were right about a lot of stuff, and that’s why I was angry. Manhattan is cozy, but it’s empty. I have to make an appointment just to chat with my parents, and even then, they think unless I have a reason, I shouldn’t waste their time. I get super expensive gifts on my birthdays and Christmas, but those gifts aren’t about me. They’re about my parents competing with each other. Sure, I’m popular—Manhattan’s society girl, where every guy wants to date me and every girl wants to be my friend. But again, it’s not about me. It’s what I represent when they’re seen with me. I live a very empty life.”

Her voice trembles slightly, and her eyes glisten with unshed tears. The group falls silent, the weight of her words settling over us.

“Being here has allowed me to see just that. I didn’t need Astro to tell me the truth. Here, I feel needed, wanted—not because of my name and what it means, but because I feel part of something important and I’m valued. My parents are probably already suing Hawthornes for negligence or something. When I go back, they’ll force me to return to Manhattan, marry some guy they choose for me, and breed the next plutocrat billionaire. That isn’t a life, it’s a prison. A prison disguised as a luxury lifestyle for the rich society.”

We all remain quiet, absorbing the depth of her confession. Her words cut through the veneer of our immediate struggles, revealing the profound emotional battles she faces. Eve's honesty creates a moment of raw vulnerability, bonding us in a way that survival alone never could.

Each of us processes her confession in our own way, and I can see the reactions unfold across the faces of the other four men.

Always the pragmatic leader and alpha, Foster looks taken aback. His confident grin falters, replaced by a furrowed brow and a somber expression. The realization of the emotional depth and the struggle Eve is facing hits him hard. He nods slowly, acknowledging her pain, then speaks up, his voice steady and reassuring.

“Eve,” he says, “we’ll get through this. Together. You’re more than what they tried to make of you, and you have us now. We’re not just a team; we’re a family and you’re my girlfriend. ”

Usually composed and stoic, Byron looks visibly moved. His intense eyes soften, and he takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as if the weight of her words has settled on him too.

He reaches out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder, offering silent support. “Eve, you’ve shown incredible strength. Whatever happens, you have us by your side.”

Uncharacteristically quiet, Zane’s usual smirk fades, replaced by a serious, contemplative look. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away for a moment, grappling with the realization of our predicament.

He looks back at Eve, his eyes filled with empathy, and gives her a slight, encouraging nod. “Eve, you’re not alone in this. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Having always had a complicated relationship with Eve, Astro looks conflicted. His initial shock gives way to a mix of guilt and understanding. He shifts uncomfortably, his hand dropping from Eve’s waist. He’s the one who often pushes buttons and thrives on tension, but now he sees the deeper impact of his words and actions.

His eyes meet Eve’s, and for a moment, there’s a silent apology in his gaze. “Eve,” he says softly, his voice stripped of its usual bravado. “We’ll find a way. We’re in this together. There’s not a chance that some fucker will get a chance to marry what’s ours.”

I look at her, captivated by her strength and the raw truth she’s laid bare. It’s a side of her that makes me love her even more. Her vulnerability makes her all the more mesmerizing.

“Wildcat,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “ Astro’s right. You're ours. So, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

She gives me a small, grateful smile.

She brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze thoughtful yet resolute. Her eyes meet each of us in turn, acknowledging our support and understanding.

"Thank you," she says softly, her voice carrying a mix of gratitude and determination. "I know this isn't easy for any of us. But knowing I have all of you here, standing with me—it means more than you know."

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "I want to get off this island, but I also want to find a way to live a life that feels true to who I am. Not the person they expect me to be." Her voice wavers slightly, but her resolve remains strong.

"We'll find a way," she continues, her tone firm. "Together."

Her words hang in the air, a promise and a plea wrapped into one.

But I see her.

I look at her, I see beyond her outward resolve.

I see through her.

She knows that if she returns, we’ll never have what we have here. The six of us come from different walks of life, and back in our civilized world, we’ll never fit or feel whole the way we do here.

I exchange a glance with Astro, and he returns it with a silent understanding that he shares the same sentiment. Zane, Foster, and Byron nod in agreement, each silently acknowledging the unspoken truth. None of us will voice these thoughts to Eve right now because we need her to keep us together, to maintain the delicate balance of our group, and to guide us through this uncertain journey.

We continue eating the watermelon without saying anything further. The guys and I know what we need to do.