Lost Paradise (The Savages of the Blue Lagoon)

43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

The sun hovers low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the island. The makeshift boat, cobbled together from the remnants of the abandoned facility, rests at the edge of the water, bobbing slightly with each gentle wave.

It’s an ungainly thing, a patchwork of metal, wood, and the life raft we found. We’ve done a couple of tests around our side of the island, but the semi-functional engine splutters and chugs with a semblance of reliability.

I tighten the last rope, securing the supplies on board: crates of tools and other essentials scavenged from our surroundings. Straightening up, I wipe the sweat from my brow and survey our work. This boat might just get us off this island if luck is on our side.

Eve stands a few feet away, arms crossed and face set with determination. The argument she’s been having with Foster for the past hour hangs in the air between us, unresolved.

“I’m telling you, it’s too risky for all of us to go,” he says, his voice carrying a note of urgency. “If something happens out there, if the engine fails or we hit rough weather, it’s safer if you and the others stay behind.”

I agree with Foster. Maybe our decision is based on Eve’s safety and that none of us want her to suffer all the negative things we’re predicting might happen while at sea. I volunteered to join Foster on this journey, and Byron will join us as he’s been studying the maps and can direct rescuers back to the island. Zane and Jack will remain with Eve.

Eve shakes her head. “We’ve been over this. If we stay, we’re splitting our chances of survival. We’re stronger together, and if we face trouble, we’ll have a better chance of overcoming it as a team. ”

“That’s the idealistic view,” I counter, frustration evident in my tone. “But we have to be pragmatic. If this boat can’t hold all of us, or if we run out of supplies, it could mean all our deaths.”

“Or it could mean our salvation,” Eve shoots back. “We’ve survived this long by working together, by not giving up on each other. I’m not going to start abandoning people now.”

A few paces away, Jack and Zane listen intently, their faces reflecting the same blend of hope and anxiety. They know the stakes are high, and both arguments carry weight. They exchange a glance, silently weighing their own thoughts and fears.

Foster sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Eve, I get it. I really do. But we have to be smart about this. If the boat sinks or gets stranded, there’s a bigger chance we might be able to return, maybe even try for a second shot. But if we all go and something goes wrong, there’s no backup plan.”

Eve steps closer, her eyes locking with his. “We don’t know if we’ll have a second chance. This might be our only shot, and what happened to we’re all in this together. We’ve come this far together. We’ve faced every challenge together. We should face this one the same way.”

The tension in the air is deep. I glance at the other three, seeing the uncertainty mirrored in their eyes. They’re looking to Foster for leadership, for a decision that could change all our lives.

Finally, Foster exhales and nods. “Alright, we’ll do it your way. All of us go. But we need to be prepared for anything. Everyone needs to be ready to face whatever comes.”

Relief washes over Eve’s face, mingling with resolve. “We will be. We’ve made it this far. We’ll make it further together.”

“One other thing,” Byron interjects, his voice cutting through the tense silence. “All those documents and film recordings from the facility—the tests, the studies. I don’t know why it was abandoned like it was or why they never destroyed or took it with them, but we found them. The last thing the world needs is for the wrong person to stumble across them.”

“You want to destroy them?” I second guess where Byron is going with this.

“For the sake of mankind,” Eve chimes in, her voice steady and resolute.

Byron nods, his expression grim. “Yes. Whatever they did to the natives here could be catastrophic if it was exercised on larger populations as a form of control. It’s too dangerous.”

I take a deep breath, processing the gravity of his words. The thought of the experiments, the cruelty we uncovered, being replicated on a global scale sends a chill down my spine. I look around at the others, seeing the same realization dawning on their faces.

“Then we’ll make one last trip to the facility,” Foster decides, his voice firm. “Astro, Byron, and I will handle it.”

As he speaks, he catches Eve’s eye. There’s something he wants to say, something important, but the words catch in his throat. He bites his lip, holding back the emotions threatening to spill over. She gives him a slight, understanding nod, and I know she senses the weight of what he’s feeling, what we’re all feeling.

We’re taking control of our fate.

“Right then,” Byron says, breaking the odd silence that has settled over the group. “I’ll prepare what I need to take with me so we can destroy everything at once when we get there.”

“Rightly so,” Foster agrees. “We should head out tomorrow morning and return before the sun begins to set. The facility isn’t far, but the journey carries its own risks.” He scratches the back of his neck in thought, then turns and makes his way back towards the camp.

I watch him go, noting the tension in his shoulders. It’s not like Foster to be this flustered. I glance at Eve, who seems to be reading my thoughts.

“What’s got him rattled?” I ask, curiosity and concern mingling in my voice.

“He’s worried about all of us. It’s not just about me,” Eve explains. “He feels responsible for everyone. Whatever decision he makes, it’ll be on him. You can’t change him. It’s how he’s built.”

I nod slowly, digesting her words. Foster’s sense of responsibility is something I’ve come to admire, even if I don’t always understand it. It’s a stark contrast to the leadership I grew up with—the ruthless authority of my father, a boss who ruled with fear and an iron fist.

My father’s idea of responsibility is control. He makes decisions for his own gain, and anyone who gets in his way pays the price. There’s no room for compassion or self-doubt in his world. He sees people as tools, expendable and replaceable. His power comes from intimidation, from making others fear him more than they fear the dangers outside his domain.

I used to think I needed to be more like my father to survive in a ruthless world. Violence needs violence, and danger needs danger—at least, that’s what I believed. Growing up, I was taught that strength came from dominance and control and that the only way to protect yourself was to be the most feared person in the room.

Foster, on the other hand, leads with a heavy heart and a moral compass that’s always pointing toward the greater good. He doesn’t see us as pawns in a game but as individuals whose lives matter. His authority isn’t enforced through fear but through respect and trust. He carries the weight of his decisions because he cares about the consequences they have on us, not just on himself.

When we first got stranded on this island, with danger lurking around every corner and dissent high among us, he had to show his strength and prove his capability as a leader. I know because I challenged him several times. But he didn’t do it the way I expected. He didn’t rely on violence or fear to keep us in line. Instead, he led with a sense of responsibility, with a quiet strength that commanded respect rather than demanded it.

It makes me think of lions, the fiercest creatures in the world. They rule their pride not through sheer brutality but through a combination of strength and responsibility. A lion's roar might be terrifying, but it’s their protective nature and the way they care for their pride that truly defines their leadership. Foster is like that—he has the strength to protect us, but he uses it wisely, with an underlying sense of duty and compassion.

I realized that the world isn’t as black and white as I once thought. Strength doesn’t always mean being the most feared; sometimes, it means being the most dependable.

Foster’s vulnerability is his power. It’s what makes us trust him and what makes us follow him despite the odds. He’s not perfect, but he’s genuine, and that’s something my father could never understand.

Byron moves to gather his things, and the others follow suit, making sure we have everything we need for the trip. The sun hangs low in the sky, a reminder that we don’t have much time.

I grab onto Eve’s wrist and gently tug her back, watching the others walk across the sand towards camp.

“What?” she asks, turning to look at me with a curious expression.

“What do you say you and I christen this boat before it sets sail?” I raise my eyebrows suggestively, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

She lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Astro the perv,” she teases, rolling her eyes. “Can’t keep it in your pants for two seconds, can you?”

She wiggles out of my grip, but I catch a playful glint in her eyes as she turns to head back to camp. I watch the sway of her hips, feeling a surge of desire. That sexy arse of her swings like a freaking pendulum as she steps barefoot through the sand.

Damn. She’s breathtakingly hot.

“Hey!” I call after her, unable to resist. “You’ve upgraded me from criminal to perv! Besides, you know I can never resist a chance to enjoy the elements with my nudist tendencies!”

She turns around, giving me a look that’s a mix of amusement and something deeper. Our eyes meet, and I see a spark of desire flicker in hers before she continues on her way.

She’s something else. I bite my knuckles to keep my thoughts—and my growing stiffie—in check.

By the time we're ready to depart, the sun is at its strongest in the mid-morning sky, casting a brilliant glow over the island. We gather our supplies and double-check everything we’ll need for the hike to the abandoned facility.

"Foster, you sure we're good to go?" I call out, glancing over the provisions one last time.

He nods, his expression focused. "Everything's secure. We should aim to return before sunset, or at least by dusk."

Foster kisses Eve and whispers something private to her that none of us hear. It’s a brief yet tender moment that speaks volumes of their unspoken connection. His touch lingers, a silent promise of return amidst the uncertainty of our mission.

Byron hugs Eve tightly before surprising her with a long, illicit kiss. There's a hint of mischief in his eyes, a silent understanding of the risks we face. There’s always going to be unexpected danger, especially when the group is split up like this.

I step forward with a grin, unable to resist teasing her. With a playful smack on her arse, I add with amusement, "I'll be thinking of you, Princess." It's a lighthearted comment that belies the seriousness of our situation, a reminder that even in the face of danger, we cling to moments of fun and connection.

Eve rolls her eyes with a laugh, a mixture of exasperation and fondness in her expression. Rather than pull away like she usually does, she collides with me and smacks my face with her lips. I hold her tight against me.

“I’m the woman who dreamed of meeting a prince but instead fell in love with the misunderstood villain,” she murmurs into my lips.

Fuck me if that ain’t the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.

“Come back safe and sound,” she adds, her eyes darting around my face almost as if she’s etching me into her brain.

“You know I always will,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside me.

Foster grabs the two bags left for him and swings them over his shoulders. He joins us, his expression resolute but tired. He gives a curt nod, and we set off towards the facility, the jungle closing in around us as we move.

The path is familiar yet treacherous, the overgrown vegetation hiding potential dangers. We move cautiously, each step a reminder of the risks we face.

It’s closer to noon, but by the time we view the facility looming ahead, its metal walls are in stark contrast to the vibrant life of the jungle.

Inside, the air is thick with dust and the lingering scent of decay. The documents, film reels, and VHS tapes are still there, waiting for us. Byron and I set to work, gathering everything into a pile outside the makeshift stove Byron and Jack had constructed to cook the oil.

Foster takes the coconut husks we collected from one of the bags to use as tinder for a fire. Due to the humidity, it’s always challenging to find dried foliage in a tropical environment. He starts shredding the husks and throws them into where we intend to start the fire.

As we prepare to destroy everything gathered, I can’t help but feel a pang of unease.

“These documents hold the secrets of the past, the terrible things done in the name of science. Destroying them is the right thing to do, but it also feels like erasing a part of history,” Byron says, and I’m on the same wavelength as him .

“But there’s no other choice. The risk of these falling into the wrong hands is too great,” Foster says, and we can’t deny the truth about that.

We ignite the pile, watching as the flames consume the papers, turning them to ash. The heat is intense, and the fire is a purging force that brings a strange sense of relief.

We maintain the fire to make sure it doesn’t get out of control. I might hate this motherfucking island and what those cannibals did and almost did to me, but I’m leaving on my own terms. They can have their own stinking island back.

“Let’s get out of here. We only have a couple of hours left,” Foster says, his voice tight with urgency as the fire dies down. He pokes through the ashes with a bamboo shoot, the embers glowing dimly against the encroaching natural shaded darkness created by the tall trees in the jungle.

“Wait,” Byron pulls out two old, tattered envelopes from his bag, his hands trembling slightly. “I’m going to leave these inside.” He dashes toward the structure, and I glance at Foster. He raises an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes, and we both follow inside.

The air is thick and oppressive as we step back into the derelict building. Byron’s footsteps echo off the walls as he makes his way to the room with the leather torture chair, its straps and bindings a haunting reminder of past horrors. He carefully places the letters on the chair, his face a mask of determination mixed with a hint of sorrow.

“Why two?” I ask curiously.

“One is just for amusement. The other is in case someone ventures here in the next thirty years. Letting them know what they need to know and leaving out everything else,” Byron says, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with unspoken emotions.

“You think anyone’s going to stumble upon this island?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, but my voice falters.

“We did,” Byron replies, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “It’s like a flippin’ black hole.”

“Rightly so,” Foster mutters, his impatience clear as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, eager to leave this place behind.

We turn and leave, the facility fading into the shadows behind us. The journey back to camp is silent; the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant crash of waves. Each of us is lost in our thoughts.

When we return, the sun has already set, and the camp is bathed in the soft glow of the fire. We've done what needed to be done, but the weight of our actions lingers. Foster’s gaze meets mine and Byron’s, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens we share. The crackling fire casts flickering shadows, and for a moment, the world feels both vast and confined, as if the night itself is holding its breath.

As we settle in for the night, I can’t shake the feeling that this is only the beginning. Tomorrow is when we set sail, venturing into the unknown with hearts heavy and minds uneasy. The rhythmic sound of the waves against the shore is a constant reminder of the journey ahead, a melody of uncertainty that lulls us into a restless sleep.

In the dim light, we huddle close and take turns cuddling with Eve throughout the night. Her soft breaths are a small beacon of calm amidst the brewing storm. I watch Foster wrap an arm around her, his rugged face softening as he murmurs reassurances.

She’s the pillar of our group.

Of my life.

Eve is the backbone that holds me together. I’m not sure when or how it happened, and I don’t care—just that she is.

The nights ahead will be harsh, a relentless battle for survival on the unforgiving sea in our little dinghy boat. But tonight, in this fleeting moment of solace, we won’t talk about it; instead, we rest and wait until the sun begins to rise above the horizon.