‘What’s wrong with him?’ Abbey asked. James glanced away casually, but for the briefest moment she caught a fleeting shadow pass over his face.
‘Oli?’ Abbey pressed.
The student didn’t seem to know how to stand. He thrust his hands into his pockets, withdrew them again. Shifting from foot to foot, he couldn’t meet Abbey's eyes. Instead he muttered, ‘I’m going to leave you two lovebirds to it.'
‘Look at me, James,’ she insisted. ‘What’s going on?’
‘The pilot’s in a bad way,’ James said at last. ‘I mean, most of his wounds are superficial, they’ll heal fine.’
‘But?’
‘He has a huge gash on his thigh, opened right up. I’ve wrapped it, stemmed the flow of blood, but I can’t even imagine what’ll happen if we don’t get the man some drugs. If gangrene sets in…well, you do the math.’
Scooping up the abandoned first aid box, she said, ‘What about this?’
‘What about it? It’ll have clean bandages and wraps, but there won’t be any drugs. First aid boxes like this don’t carry them.’
Abbey skimmed through it quickly. There was nothing inside in tablet form, not even painkillers.
‘Tomorrow, we’ll begin a search through the luggage for penicillin, and I’ll dive the wreckage, see what I can find out there. Somebody on that plane will have some antibiotics.’
‘You dealt with anything like this before?’
James shook his head.
Abbey exhaled wearily. Neither had she.
*
Having returned from his walk, Sebastian had quickly smoked a cigarette and disappeared into one of the tents, the soft hum of his snoring spilling out onto the sand.
Anthony had not returned.
Placing stones in a small circle, Teri had built a crude campfire in front of the tents. Now she was loading it with twigs and shredded paper. The night had grown cool, forcing Abbey to throw on an extra layer – a thin pink cardigan she’d found amongst someone’s clothes. James too had pulled on a black v-neck sweater and pushed up the sleeves. Elaine and Eric had still failed to show.
‘I’m starting to get worried,’ said Abbey. ‘They should be back by now.’
Standing by her side at the shoreline, James didn’t respond. Instead he stared out to the darkened horizon, his eyes glazed over.
As Abbey began to stress her point, Elaine walked wearily towards them, arms linked with her son. Eric looked mildly distressed, his enormous figure taking small infantile steps, his arms rigid by his sides.
‘We were about to send out a search party,’ Abbey said as they approached. ‘Did you get lost?’
‘Eric did,’ Elaine replied. ‘In a sense.’
‘Everything okay?’
‘It is now,’ muttered Elaine. ‘Would you mind watching him for a second?’
Not waiting for a reply, Elaine marched up the sand, beeline made out for Teri. The tattooed girl was still loading up her campfire.
From the shoreline Abbey watched the scene unfold like something from a movie. Following the word “Bitch”, spat vehemently from Elaine’s lips, was the most vicious punch to the nose Abbey had ever seen delivered by a woman. Teri went down like a lead balloon, clutching her burst nose, blood spraying down her heavy shirt.
‘The next time you speak to my son that way, God help me I will literally pop your head open! How’s that for stones!’
With that she walked back towards the shore to collect her son. In her wake, Teri writhed on the sand clutching her bloody nose.
‘Jesus, Elaine, what the hell was that?’ Abbey gasped.
‘She had it coming.’ Elaine didn’t smile. ‘I can defend myself, Eric can’t. When someone abuses that fact, I defend him. Which of the tents are free?’
‘On the end.’
Elaine took Eric by the arm and led him away, disappearing into the end tent.
James still hadn't moved, his fixed gaze unbroken. She placed a hand gently on his arm. ‘James, you alright?’
The physical contact seemed to wake him up. ‘Hmm,’ he murmured. ‘Fine. You?’
She tilted her head. ‘Come on, let’s take a walk.’
Sticking close to the shoreline, they moved away from the camp. In one direction they would pass the aircraft, in the other the mass of bodies pressing against the arm of rock. Death would be their companion, whichever way they went. They chose the aircraft.
‘How're you holding up?’ James murmured warily.
‘I’m okay. I’m not worried about me.’
‘Eric?’
‘Everybody. My husband’s going to be going out of his mind.’
‘I didn’t realise you were married,' said James.
Abbey smiled. ‘Why would you?’
‘You’re not wearing a ring.’
She fanned out her fingers. ‘I was on my way to a sales pitch in Auckland. Always take my ring off in case I need to flirt a little to seal the deal. When all else fails…’
He smiled at last. ‘So your husband, he knew which flight you were on?’
‘I usually text him the flight numbers so he can check that I landed safely. He’s going to know by now that the plane went down.’
James didn’t reply.
‘I miss him, James. I’ve been threatening for so long to give up my job and stay home. God knows we can afford it. But I kept putting it off and putting it off. Just one more year…I’ve been saying that for a long time.’
Wrapping an arm gently around her shoulder, he said, ‘We’re going to get off this island, Abbey. You’ll see your husband again, I promise.’
‘You can’t promise something like that, James. The truth is, my husband thinks I’m dead.’
‘You don’t know that. Any guy who can get a girl like you is no fool. All he knows is the plane went down. We haven’t been found so they won’t write us off just like that. If the media haven’t, then I can guarantee your husband hasn’t either.’
She smiled through thinly pursed lips. ‘How’s a guy like you single?’
‘Who says I’m single?’
‘Oh, you’re
