‘Do you see that?’ she called.
A figure was moving around near the tailfin, a silhouette against the backdrop of the fire. It was a man. Straggly blonde shoulder-length hair plastered to his head, thick stubble. He looked like a surfer, board-shorts and flip-flops. He appeared frantic, flipping luggage, one suitcase after another tossed aside, hurled into a pile already discarded.
‘What're you looking for, friend?’ James called out.
When he realised he wasn't alone, the man’s head snapped up in a spray of rain. ‘I know it’s here somewhere!’
James approached wearily and placed a gentle hand on the man’s arm. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked. ‘Do you have any injuries?’
‘I need to find my suitcase,’ the man insisted, pallid and wild-eyed.
‘What’s your name?’
No response, just a passive glance.
‘Hey, can you hear me? What’re you doing out here?’
‘Get away from me, mate!’ the surfer yelled back, his accent heavy east coast Australian.
James took a step back. ‘I think you’re in shock, friend. I just want to help you –’
‘I’m not your friend, dude, and I’ll let you know when I need your help! Shock…Jesus Christ!’
Over his shoulder, James caught a glimpse of Abbey walking back to the shoreline. He was close to abandoning the Australian and joining her. ‘Listen,’ he yelled. ‘I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t know what you’re looking for, but when you’re ready to talk we’ll be around, alright.’
‘The only problem I have is I can’t find my bag!’
‘Like I said…’
‘You’ll be around,' muttered the Australian dismissingly. 'Good to know.’
‘Will you at least tell me your name?’
‘Sol,’ he answered without hesitation. ‘Sol Delaney.’
‘Have you seen any other survivors, Sol, or is it just you?’
Sol shook his head. ‘I was flying alone. You’re the first people I’ve seen since we went down, but you know, I haven’t really been looking.’
‘Why the hell not, Sol?’
‘Forget the bodies, dude,’ he muttered. ‘They’re smoke.’
‘What do you mean smoke?’
‘Look around, mate, the passengers are history. If you want to look, look. Me, I have to find my suitcase.’
‘Yeah, you said. And if you were out there dying?’
Sol glanced away impatiently. ‘Well I'm not, dude!’
‘What kind of attitu –’
‘We done?’
Sol went back to the bags, unhinged.
James backed away. The conversation with Sol had strangely filled him with sadness. Never in his life had he encountered such an apathetic approach to death, such a blankness. As he watched Sol ruthlessly rooting through the luggage, blonde locks lashing in the wind, he felt sorry for the man, a deep sense of pity sitting on a shelf high above Sol’s selfishness.
Turning morosely away, he jogged after Abbey.
12
The next bay lay peppered with debris like the aftermath of a battlefield. From the top of the rocky bay partition, James and Abbey looked across the devastation, the handful of bodies, the slabs of steel and seat rows jutting from the sand amidst leaping campfires.
‘My God,’ James heard his companion whisper. He made his way down the rocks and stepped in amongst the ruin. He sensed Abbey at his heel, her footsteps pressing into his own. They moved between the wreckage like wandering scavengers, one by one flipping the twelve or fifteen bodies onto their backs, probing them for signs of life.
‘Over here!’ Abbey bellowed. ‘I’ve got a live one.’
At her side, James examined the young girl Abbey had discovered; eleven or twelve and at a glance unhurt. Aside from the ill-fitting dress, she wore a small locket around her neck dangling from a thin silver chain.
He leant down and lowered his ear to the girl’s breast, finding the steady thump of a heartbeat. With a little coaxing and relentless rain, the girl came gingerly around. She pushed herself into a sitting position and coughed some water from her throat. Her eyes wandered confusedly.
Brushing the hair away from her face, Abbey asked her if she was in any pain.
A shake of the head.
‘She’s okay,’ Abbey said to James, ‘I’ll stay with her.’
James began moving once again through the few remaining bodies, finding each one stone cold, beaten, life having abused them, death having claimed them.
He made his way back towards Abbey and the girl. In the firelight he could see Abbey’s lips moving, attempting to cajole words from their new companion.
Pausing next to a burning seat, he sat in the sand and let the rain wash over him. Was this shit actually happening, he wondered? It was the twenty-first century for Christ’s sake, wasn’t being stranded on a desert island a couple of hundred years out of date?
The rain finally managed to extinguish the flaming seat in a plume of blue smoke. He faced the heavens, his eyes heavy. So far they were a band of four, if he included Sol Delaney, and four was not enough to begin picking up the pieces here. As he trained his eyes back on the two females, one question leapt to the forefront of his mind: did anybody, on the island or off, have any idea where they were?
Before he had time to contemplate, his head jolted out to sea and to the disappearing mass of aircraft, the scream of a woman ringing out across the bay.
Somebody was alive out there.
*
He scrambled to his feet and ran to the shore, damp shirt trying to free itself from his back.
‘James!’ Abbey bellowed. ‘Don’t be a bloody idiot!’
Abandoning the confused girl, she sprinted to James’s side and snatched his arm, tugging him away from the water.
‘The hell are you doing?’ He jerked
