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  When the storm cleared they drifted in that little raft for three days, until another squall rolled in and they’d all been thrown to the sea. Andre and Natalie had been taking their turns outside the raft when the storm hit. How in God’s name any of them had survived and made land was nothing short of a miracle.

  Dallas gazed out at the ocean he’d once found so beautiful. Now it was little more to him than a predator. “And the others?” he asked softly.

  “They’re just beyond the rocks. We’ve been here since last night when we made shore.”

  “Is everyone all right?” he asked.

  She held his hands. Tight. “There’s a reef.” Quinn pointed out at the ocean. “There. That’s what we hit last night in the storm, what threw us all from the raft. In the dark we had no idea how close to land we actually were. Murdock’s still blind. His eyes are in terrible shape and he nearly drowned, but he’s alive. Nat hit the rocks coming in pretty hard. She’s hurt.”

  “Badly?”

  Quinn’s tears of joy were replaced with those of sorrow. “It’s not good, Dallas.”

  “Shit,” he said, regaining his feet and pulling her up with him. “Where the hell are we? Does anyone know?”

  “We’re not sure.”

  “Murdoch doesn’t have any idea?”

  “We were hoping he might know but he’s been in and out of consciousness all night. He’s in bad shape too, but it’s Nat I’m worried about. Her arm’s broken. I managed to set the bone, but she’s got internal injuries too.” Quinn’s voice broke. She pulled herself back together quickly. “Nat’s in terrible pain and she’s coughing up blood.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Come on.”

  Arms around each other, they started for the others.

  They crossed the sand together, and the farther they went the stronger Dallas felt. Just knowing Quinn was alive and uninjured was enough to keep him going. She’d be strong—she always was—and he needed to be too.

  Dallas saw Herm watching them as they approached. Sitting a few feet away was Harper, and on the sand between them, Nat lie quietly, Murdoch next to her.

  “Holy shit,” Herm said, wandering closer. He held his fist out, and purely from habit, Dallas bumped it. “You all right, man?”

  “I’m alive. You okay?”

  Of everyone, it was perhaps the most curious that Herm had survived. He was forty-six, which, with the exception of Murdoch, made him the oldest member of the group, and was by far in the worst shape physically. Of average height, he was a bit chubby around the waist and was the only one among them wearing long pants, or what was left of them. His jeans had been ripped and torn along both legs, but he had on a relatively intact short-sleeved white undershirt and a pair of inexpensive sneakers. Having lost his hair in his thirties, Herm wore an awful hairpiece that, although not in the best condition, had somehow managed to stay on his head throughout their ordeal. Even his eyeglasses, the kind with lenses that turned dark in sunlight, bent and scratched, were still intact. A coworker and primarily a friend of Dallas’s, Herm didn’t know the others well, and had been something of an awkward addition to their vacation.

  Dallas looked around. “Where’s Gino?”

  “He went that way,” Herm said, pointing listlessly toward the jungle. “He’s doing his Tarzan routine, I guess. Or whoever the hell he thinks he is.”

  Harper, Gino’s latest girlfriend and the youngest of them at only twenty-three, sat in the sand a few feet away, weeping quietly. Though her heavy makeup and false eyelashes had long since washed away, in sneakers and a little white bikini, she still had the look of a displaced stripper, her peroxide-blonde hair long and tangled to her shoulders, her busty, cartoon-like body barely contained in her skimpy swimsuit. Sitting there crying in the sand she finally looked her age, Dallas thought, even younger somehow, like a child.

  He looked to Quinn. She gave a quick nod indicating Harper was upset but fine.

  Dallas crouched down next to Murdoch and gently touched his wrist.

  “Who’s that?” he asked in a gravelly voice. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Dallas.”

  The captain of the yacht they’d booked for an overnight fishing cruise, John Murdoch, a grizzled man in his fifties, lay on his back, his dashing good looks ruined by damage the sun had caused and the bloody wounds about his eyes. When the first storm that took down the boat had hit, a rogue wave had taken out the bridge, shattering everything and raining glass and debris directly into his face. Though blinded, he’d managed to make it overboard, where the others had saved him and gotten him safely into the raft. Since then he’d been in and out of consciousness, and Quinn had done her best to tend to his wounds, but he’d been able to offer very little information, as even when he was awake, he was rarely coherent.

  “John,” Dallas said, “listen to me, okay, I—I need you to listen to me.”

  The captain turned his head toward Dallas and nodded, his eyes a bloody mess.

  “Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “It’s not possible.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Where we were, where we are, there—there’s no land out here.”

  “You don’t understand. Try to focus if you can, John. We’re on an island.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” he said, his speech slurred. “There are no islands out here. There’s nothing but ocean between the southernmost Cook Islands and Antarctica.”

  “Then where the hell are we?”

  “No land, there’s…no land out here…”

  As Murdoch drifted back into unconsciousness, Dallas glanced at the others, but no one was making eye contact. He crawled over to Natalie, doing his best to not notice her mangled arm. Andre’s girlfriend, he and Quinn and Gino had been friends for years, and he’d never seen her afflicted with anything worse than a head cold. Natalie was the den mother, the one who looked out and cared for everyone else. It seemed impossible for her to be laying there so damaged and broken, but there she was.

  “Careful,” Quinn warned. “Don’t move her.”

  With a nod, Dallas took her limp hands in his. “Nat?”

  She was unconscious, her chest barely rising and falling.

  Quinn put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. When he looked up at her she slowly shook her head in the negative. Natalie was dying. It was only a matter of time.

  He let her hand go, resting it carefully in the sand, then rose to his feet. “No sign of Andre?” he asked quietly.

  “Last I saw him was when the raft overturned,” Quinn said helplessly.

  “Yeah,” Herm added.

  Dallas looked to Harper but she was crying into her hands. “You sure she’s okay?” he asked.

  “No I’m not fucking okay!” she screamed, her head snapping up, blue eyes wild. “This is fucking bullshit! Why haven’t they found us already? I want to go home!”

  The others stood there, unsure of what to do or say.

  As if on cue, Gino Cortese emerged from a nearby section of jungle looking like a rugged outdoorsman straight out of central casting. His skin, tanned a deep brown, was the least damaged by the sun of them all, and in a tank top, shorts and sneakers, his sculpted body looked even more impressive than usual. Gino was strong, agile and confident, and looked it. His short dark hair was mussed, and but for a few scrapes and blisters, he seemed none the worse for wear. He made his way to Dallas and the two old friends embraced. It was a quick hug, and then Gino realized what he was doing and took a quick step back. “Good to see you, bro,” he mumbled.

  “He thought you were dead,” Herm said suddenly.

  Gino glared at him.

  “That is what you said, isn’t it? Dallas and Andre are gone and we need to face that and worry about those of us who are still alive, right?”

  “Herm,” Quinn sighed. “Jesus.”

  “What were you doing in the jungle?” Dallas asked, hoping to di
stract him.

  Gino returned his attention to Dallas. “Little recon. Trying to figure out what we’re dealing with here. I’m gonna need to get up high and check things out, but I think this is a relatively small island. Uninhabited, of course, but we need to assess the situation as best we can as quickly as we can.”

  “It’s 2014,” Herm said, brushing sand from his jeans. “It’s only a matter of time before they find us. Come on, bunch of Americans lost at sea on vacation? I’m sure we’re all over the news back home and I bet they’ve had all kinds of planes and ships out looking for us ever since that first night. They’ll find us.”

  “You’ve been saying that for days,” Quinn reminded him.

  “The question is where are they looking?” Gino said.

  “On the moon,” Herm chuckled, “where do you think?”

  It struck Dallas as obscene that, given the circumstances, Herm could laugh about anything, even cynically.

  “Listen, genius,” Gino said, “when the boat went down Murdoch said he got a mayday out. Meaning they knew where we were. That storm lasted all night, you can be sure it carried us pretty far from there. Then we drifted in the raft for three days after that. No telling how far from the original site we were by the time the second storm hit and blew us even farther away. We could be hundreds of miles from where the yacht went down. I’m sure they’re looking for us too. Problem is they’re probably just not looking anywhere around here.”

  “That’s encouraging,” Quinn mumbled.

  “It’s the truth,” Gino said. “And it’s important that we deal with the truth at this point, and to not lie to ourselves or deal in anything but the reality of what we’re faced with here.”

  “One reality,” Dallas said, “is I need water.”

  “Luckily, that we have.”

  “We do?”

  Gino cocked his head toward the palm trees. “Come on.”

  Dallas followed him across the sand to what he soon realized was a piece of the raft that had been stretched out and secured with vines to two sticks sunk deep into the sand. Nearly three inches of water floated there, cupped by the makeshift rubber tray.

  “Only good thing about the storm last night was it brought rain,” Gino said. “I rigged that up fast as I could so we could at least catch some of it. Gonna have to put together something better soon as we can, but for now, it beats nothing.”

  Dallas dropped to his knees, greedily scooped up two handfuls of water and drank them down. His lips and throat felt better almost immediately, and the water, though warm, was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

  “Easy, it’s not the most secure set up,” Gino told him. “And don’t take too much, that’s all we’ve got. Who knows when it’ll rain again?”

  “Sorry,” he gasped, wiping what remained on his lips and chin into his mouth.

  “Don’t be sorry. We just need to be smart.”

  Dallas nodded. “Never been so thirsty,” he said softly. He’d been wondering how everyone had the strength they’d exhibited. Now he knew. Once again, Gino had come through.

  On the raft, there was bottled water Gino had as part of an emergency kit he’d brought with him on the boat, but Dallas hadn’t had anything to drink since. At the time, everyone made fun of Gino’s paranoia, chalking it up as his typical over-the-top survivalist nonsense. But when things went bad, had it not been for that canvas bag of bottled water and energy bars he’d insisted on bringing along, they may not have survived those three days adrift.

  Together, Dallas and Gino returned to the others. Quinn was kneeling next to Natalie, holding her hand, head bowed and chapped lips moving slowly in prayer. Harper had wandered down by to the water’s edge and was gazing out at the ocean, and Herm stood watching her, absently scratching at his crotch.

  “Hey, perv,” Gino said.

  Herm grinned at him.

  “Thought I told you to go get the raft?”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “Then go get it before it washes back out. We can use it, and that paddle too.”

  Herm looked to Dallas as if for help. “Okay, when did we all elect Gino commandant? Did I miss that meeting?”

  “Just do it, asshole.” Gino stepped toward him. “We need to work together, understand?”

  “That’s your idea of working together? Just do it, asshole? Seriously?” Herm shook his head. “You know I haven’t had a cigarette in four days. I’m about ready to kill somebody as it is, so maybe you should take your Daniel Boone horseshit and stick it right up your ass, how’s that sound?”

  Before Gino could react Dallas stepped between them, took Herm by the shoulder and led him away. “Look, I know everyone’s on edge, okay? We’re all traumatized and exhausted and hungry and thirsty, but Gino’s right, we need to—”

  “He can go fuck himself. He talks to me like I’m a piece of shit, Dal.”

  “I know, I know. He doesn’t mean it like that. It’s just Gino’s way. He’s not exactly the most diplomatic person, you know? Deep down, he’s not a bad guy, and we need him, Herm. You understand? We need him. He’s forgotten more about staying alive in a place like this than we’ll ever know. Just do what he says, okay? He’ll keep us alive, but you got to trust him.”

  “And put up with his bullshit?”

  “Yes, and put up with his bullshit.”

  Herm held his stare a while, then gave a slow nod and sighed heavily. “Okay.”

  “Go get what’s left of the raft.”

  Dallas turned and walked back across the sand to the others. Gino had apparently already moved on to other things, as he was assessing a large rock-faced cliff at the far end of the island.

  “There,” he said, pointing. “I need to get up there.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to be too easy.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “You need to be careful, Gino. Something happens to you, we’re screwed.”

  “We’re already screwed, partner.”

  “I mean it. We need you. We won’t make it without you.”

  “Yeah, well some of us probably won’t make it anyway.” He looked past him to Herm, who was quite a distance away now. “Andre was strong and in shape, smart and a good swimmer. He doesn’t make it, and that bag of shit does. Unbelievable.”

  “Herm’s just—”

  “He’s weak.”

  Dallas looked into Gino’s dark eyes, and for the first time saw something he’d never noticed before. There was coldness there, one of pure instinct guided by a primal need to survive. He’d always been guarded emotionally, and was often hardcore and a very no-nonsense, cut-and-dry sort of guy, but this was something much greater than that. Deeper…deadlier…

  “Guess there’s a slight chance Andre could still be alive out there somewhere,” Gino said. “Or maybe even on some other part of the island. Unlikely, though.”

  Although Gino and Andre had been closer, Dallas had known Andre for years as well, and it seemed impossible he could really be gone. Even now, when Dallas thought of him he saw Andre with that big bright smile and contagious laugh, a tall and good-looking guy over six feet and with a sculpted body from years in the gym. It did seem strange that he’d been lost while someone of Herm’s limited physical capabilities had survived. But nature was not only brutal; it could also be arbitrary.

  “Can’t believe he’s really gone,” Dallas managed, “doesn’t seem possible.”

  “None of this shit does, but it is. Sooner we get our heads around it the better.”

  “Does Nat know?”

  “She doesn’t know anything. She’s been out of it since I dragged her out of the surf.” He drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “She’ll die without having to know about him, so there’s that at least.”

  Just days before they’d all been so happy and carefree, on vacation, so certain their lives were playing out just as they should, and that nothing could go wrong…and now this…

  “Gonna need to set some things straigh
t,” Gino said evenly. “Once asshole gets back with the raft, I’m gonna talk to everyone at once so we’re all on the same page and know what we need to do from here. Need you to have my back on this, got it?”

  “Yeah,” Dallas said with a nod, “of course.”

  Gino gave him a quick playful punch to the shoulder, his way of saying thanks.

  “I need to ask you,” Dallas said, lowering his voice. “What are our chances, man? I mean, I know they’re not good, but, really, what are they?”

  “You want odds?”

  “Just the truth.”

  “You already know the truth.” Gino’s dark eyes shifted to the ocean. “My guess is they’ll search an area of tens of thousands of miles, but it’s hard to know for sure. If we’re hundreds of miles south of the Cook Islands like I think we are, the odds of them finding us are almost zero, though. We may never leave here, not alive, anyway.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “None of us can afford to believe that. But unless we get miracle-level lucky, odds are we’re gonna be on this island for a long time.”

  The white sand, the palm trees and jungle, the enormous blue sky and clear water, it all should’ve been so beautiful—and it was—but it was something else too, something dangerous and deadly, something imprisoning them, holding them hostage from the rest of the world and everyone else in it. In that moment, Dallas thought about home for the first time since those endless hours in the raft, when there was nothing to do but pray for rescue, reflect on your life and wonder if that was where it would all end, floating aimlessly in that horrible little rubber raft.

  “Come on,” Gino said, bringing him back.

  As they returned to the others, Herm appeared, meandering awkwardly across the sand and dragging the remains of the raft behind him. Once closer, he dropped it then began pointing and motioning to it with both hands, like a spokesmodel.

  “Okay, Tonto?” he said to Gino.

  “All right everyone,” he said, ignoring him, “listen up.”