Flash Fiction Friday Prompt 163: Splash of Waves. 910 words.
It was the splash of waves that he first became aware of as consciousness returned to him.
The water gently lapped at his cheek and at first it was gentle, caressing even, and it wasn't helping him to wake up. Then a wave hit just wrong and water shot up his nose.
That was far more effectual at wakening him, and he coughed and spluttered as his nasal passages burned and his eyes watered.
He slipped off whatever it was he'd been laying on and into the water and his wakeup call was complete.
Jeff held on tightly to what turned out to be the wing of the plane he'd been piloting, blinking the water out of his eyes as he looked around to get his bearings. He was treading water in the open ocean, but he was quite close to an island – no, a small chain of islands if his eyes were not deceiving him – and nothing else but a slick of oil where the plane had gone down.
Thankfully his flight suit had a small number of ration bars in his pockets, enough for a couple of days, all he would need to find was liquids, so with that thought in mind he pushed off from the wing and made for the nearest island.
It was further away than he thought, and by the time he had hauled himself up onto a thin strip of sand surrounded by rocky outcrops he was exhausted. He lay there in the hot tropical sun and baked while Jeff waited for his muscles to stop trembling.
Bloody NASA. He'd been warned that there would be survival training as part of his preparation for the mission, but forcing his plane to malfunction and crash had never crossed his mind. He ached all over, but none of that compared to the thought of how Lucy would feel when they told her he had crashed – presuming that they stuck to protocol and informed his next-of-kin. How would she manage with two children under four and a third almost ready to make an appearance? At least she was staying with his parents, so he knew she would have support.
He reached over to his breast pocket and withdrew the snapshot there. Taken just two days before he left them, a very rotund Lucy was sat on the kitchen rocking chair, John curled around her bump with his head resting on the top of it and Scott sitting cross-legged in front, watching his mother avidly as she read to them. He'd surprised them by leaving early and they had not been aware when he had snapped the picture. Jeff traced his fingers gently over them and rolled to his feet.
Time to survive.
There was the faint outline of a trail leading from the beach up through the rocks, skirting what looked like quite an extensive jungle. It had obviously been cut decades before but no one had been on the island for quite some time, and as Jeff climbed – and sweated – he could see other signs of neglected human inhabitation.
Not least the small squat building built into the cliff. The only door was locked but a swift kick soon had it open, and Jeff coughed in the dust as he walked through a huge empty space.
There was a stairwell that led to another door, this one much more secure even after all this time, so Jeff confined himself to exploring the cliff house. Deep etchings showed where equipment had once stood everywhere, and then he stumbled into a kitchen.
He turned the tap and prayed. Horrid rust-looking water poured from it and he let it run for quite some time before it became clear. Jeff rooted around the cupboards for a container and finally stumbled on a couple of metal cups. He filled them both, dropped in a couple of water purification tablets and let them stand while he looked around further.
There were three bedrooms still with bedframes but no mattresses, but there was one chair that didn't look like it was going to collapse any time soon, so Jeff brought the water through, drank one, ate a bar and settled in to sleep.
Jeff slept through the night and woke up stiff and hungry, but with new purpose. He examined each and every nook and cranny he found, and eventually he stumbled across an old radio receiver, rusted with age but this – this was something he could use.
He had the skills and all the equipment he needed, but it still took three days to fix the radio enough to get a signal out. While he worked hard he divided his time between the radio and exploring the building and the surrounding areas.
When a voice he recognised well answered, Jeff tried hard not to swear, but in the end the relief at having been 'found' was enough.
The helo was a godsend. Once inside he was greeted by Lee and the two men hugged tightly. Jeff strapped in and he was handed a pad where a crying Lucy was waiting with his boys and his parents.
It was later he asked.
'Where the hell did you strand me?'
'Some island in the Kermadec chain. There's an old, abandoned USA base.'
'It was some island.'
It may have been rough there, but that island had saved his life, and he found that he would not have minded being there under different circumstances.