Lost Paradise (The Savages of the Blue Lagoon)

44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

We huddle around the Russian maps, spread out on the narrow deck of our small improvised boat. The sea is a vast, unyielding expanse of blue, and we rely on Byron’s interpretation of the maps to guide us. His finger traces the lines and symbols, and his furrowed brow indicates his intense concentration as he cross-checks his notes.

“We should be heading west,” Byron says, his voice steady despite the uncertainty in the air.

Eve takes the helm, adjusting our course while Foster keeps a watchful eye on the horizon. He stands beside Byron, scanning the distance with hawk-like intensity, searching for any sign of land or danger.

The sun blazes relentlessly overhead, casting harsh shadows and making the deck feel like a furnace, but a cool breeze offers some relief. We’re using the sails for now and conserving the diesel for the motor until we need it.

I secure the supplies with Jack, making sure everything is stowed correctly to withstand the rough waves rocking the boat.

Eve takes a break and sits quietly beside me, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her hands fidget nervously with the frayed edge of her sleeve, betraying the anxious thoughts that must be racing through her mind.

“Do you think we’ll find anything out here?” she asks, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves lapping against the hull.

I turn to her, offering a reassuring smile that feels.

“Hopefully land,” I reply softly, hoping to inject a semblance of optimism into our increasingly dire situation. I wrap my arm around her shoulders as a sign of reassurance and kiss her head .

Two days passed in a blur of endless water and shifting skies. We battled rough waves that tossed our little boat like a toy, each of us gripping the sides to keep from being thrown overboard. The saltwater stung our eyes and coated our skin, but we pressed on, driven by a mixture of hope and desperation.

During a rare moment of calm, we encountered fascinating sights. A pod of dolphins had leaped alongside our boat, their sleek bodies cutting through the water with grace. They seemed to guide us, their presence a welcome distraction from our exhaustion. Eve’s face lit up with childlike wonder at the sight, a rare smile breaking through the tension that gripped us all. For a moment, we forgot the weight of our predicament as we marveled at the ocean’s hidden treasures.

“Look!” Eve exclaims, suddenly dragging me out of my thoughts and pointing to a massive jellyfish, its translucent body pulsating just below the surface. The creature glows with an ethereal light, casting an otherworldly glow around it. We watch in awe as it drifts past, a reminder of the ocean’s mysterious beauty.

When night falls, the sea becomes illuminated by bioluminescent plankton, tiny specks of light swirling in the water. It’s as if the stars have fallen from the sky, creating a magical display that momentarily lifts our spirits.

Byron consults the maps almost every hour of the day, and when he does not, he discusses options with Foster and Eve, who know how to steer this boat better than any of us. But a lot is running on the Brain in our group, and he knows it.

I silently laugh at the nickname Astro gave him a while back.

Regardless, we trust Byron to navigate us as he relies on the maps and his interpretations of them.

The journey is grueling, the constant motion of the boat and the relentless waves testing our endurance. I feel every muscle ache, every joint stiffen from the strain, but as I look out at the horizon, I know we have to keep going.

We have no choice in the matter.

“Here, let me apply it, Firecracker,” I say gently, taking the container of coconut oil and kneeling beside Eve, whose delicate skin glows faintly in the sunlight and is quick to burn despite our best efforts.

Eden's nose, already reddened, bears witness to how swiftly the sun can scorch. Over our time on the island, the rest of us endured initial burns that eventually settled into healthy tans or, in my case, a deeper hue. But for Eve, she’s burned, then burned some more, and the darkest she’s gotten is a light golden.

Carefully, I begin to spread the coconut oil across her neck, hands, and legs, where the sun has left its mark. She’s lowered the sleeves of her shirt to make sure her skin remains hidden. The oil offers soothing relief against the punishing heat. We ration our precious supply of coconut and aloe vera for her sake, knowing her fair skin demands the most protection.

"Put on my hoodie, babe," I suggest, knowing it's hot but hoping the hood will shield her head from the relentless sun.

Before I can fetch it for her, Jack swoops in and plops the hood over her head. "She doesn't need to put it on. She can just wear it like this," he insists with a grin.

I try to stifle my laughter as I look at Eve, now all hunched over with the hood engulfing her head.

"I look terrible, like some homeless person," Eve protests with a pout.

I reach out to adjust the hood, trying to ease her discomfort. "You look cozy," I say gently, hoping to reassure her. "And it's better than getting burnt again."

“A sexy homeless person, Firebug. No one’s judging you on your fashion statement,” Byron chimes in and pushes his eyeglasses back as he looks up and offers her a smile.

“But,” Astro interjects, “I bet if you turned up looking like that at some event in Manhattan, you’d be starting a new trend.”

I chuckle, only imagining such happening.

“Yeah, they might mistake it for some avant-garde designer statement. I've seen crazier things on catwalks," Jack adds.

"Hold on," I say, turning to Jack. "What were you doing near fashion catwalks?"

All eyes focus with amusement on the prince of darkness.

“My mum used to drag me to them as a kid. Until she didn’t. I was her accessory that untrended by the time I hit puberty.”

" Untrended isn't a word," Byron corrects as he reads something from his notebook without looking up. "You'd say 'not trending' to describe something that's not popular."

"Did you have a thing for your English teacher?" Astro teases.

Byron suddenly winces and the face he makes suggests something deeper he’s not letting out. The entire boat goes quiet.

“"You didn' t..." I start, surprised.

"No, I didn't fancy any teachers," Byron replies curtly, burying his head back in his book.

"Hey bruh," I press, "you can't drop something like that and clam up."

He meets my gaze with his usual stoicism. "I did nothing of the sort. Astro made up some nonsense, and I responded."

"Come on, Byron," Eve speaks up, sensing the tension. "You're not fooling anyone with that wince."

"As leader of this rowdy pack," Foster intervenes with a smirk, "let's give Byron some space. But you owe us an explanation, mate. I don’t need dissent in the ranks.”

"Considering we're on the water, the correct naval terminology would be mutiny on deck," Byron says calmly, and while he doesn’t raise his head up, our gaze burns hotter than the blazing sun. Feeling the scorching stare, he looks up as if he hasn’t said anything extraordinary.

“You know, without me navigating us, you’d be lost.”

“Babe,” Eve looks at him sympathetically. “I’d hate to break it to you, but we are.”

“Yeah, and considering Moby Dick might be on his way to make a last meal of us, knowing what went on or didn’t go on with your English teacher will be our dying request. So fess up, mate,” Astro says.

“Moby Dick was a white sperm whale. They are docile creatures that mostly feed on squid, not humans. They would never attack you, but they might decapitate you with their tale by mistake or vibrate your body to death with their most intense vocalizations if they choose to. But judging by your current banter, you might just bore one to death.”

Astro’s fists tighten, “Mate, I’m one-second decapitating you with my mouth if you don’t shut the fuck up with your random facts.”

“I’m not…” Byron’s voice trails off as Eve squeezes his knee.

“Babe, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell anyone about your teacher. No one’s going to judge you here.”

She leans back against the boat and rolls the hood higher to cover her face.

Byron bites his lip hesitantly.

“I got a C in English on my GC’s,” he mutters.

We all turn to him, shocked.

“So? Astro breaks the tension with a grin .

"Yeah, I think we all had our moments of feeling like we struggled with exams," Foster adds.

Astro chuckles. "Except for me, of course. I was too busy causing trouble to worry about grades."

I raise an eyebrow. "And that's supposed to surprise us?"

Laughter ripples through the boat, easing the earlier tension. Byron manages a small smile, grateful that none of us give a damn about his grades or inability to get above average in high school.

“You okay, there, darling?” Foster's concern etches lines on his brow as he glances at Eve.

Eve, nestled under the protection of my hood, responds quietly, “A light headache.”

Jack steps in, handing me a coconut he had just expertly pierced. "Here," he says, a hint of worry in his voice.

Eve lifts the hood slightly, revealing cheeks inflamed and swollen from the relentless sun. A pang of concern shoots through me as I meet Foster's gaze.

"Drink this, Firecracker," I urge Eve, passing her the coconut. "It'll hydrate you and ease the ache."

"Babe, do you feel nauseous?" Foster's voice is gentle, but his expression is full of worry.

"Just a little," Eve admits, tipping the coconut upwards and savoring each drop. It was then that we noticed her fingers—burnt, bright red, and blistered from hours exposed to the unforgiving rays.

"Get the aloe vera," I direct Astro, who responds swiftly, placing the container of gel in my hands.

“You might have a touch of sun poisoning,” Foster says. “Why don’t you rest a bit more, and I’ll take over the sails.”

The atmosphere grows tense as we all observe Eve's condition.

Silence falls over us as we all contemplate Eve's form. She hands the coconut back to me. Jack takes it and proceeds to crack it open so we can use the flesh as a snack or food, considering we have rations to keep to.

“Give me your hands, Eve,” I say softly, opening the container of aloe vera gel.

As I gently apply the soothing gel to her burnt fingers, I can't shake the gravity of our situation. In this remote stretch of ocean, where resources are scarce and dangers abundant, every sunburn and dehydration poses a serious threat to our survival. We’re racing against time, hoping desperately to encounter a passing tanker or cruise boat that can offer aid.

But for now, all we can do is tend to Eve's burns, ration our supplies, and keep our eyes trained on the horizon, searching for any sign of salvation amidst the vast expanse of sea and sky.