Seven Ways to Be Rescued
I: 23 days after the crash
They hear before they see.
Roaring sound, somewhere above the trees. A sound unfamiliar among the various voices of the island, but known to them from another world. It takes a few seconds to register what it means.
Suddenly they are all shouting - at each other, at the rescue helicopter, at the sky. They jump and run, willing with their whole bodies, with their minds to convey the message: We are here! Rescue us!
They have never run that fast, as they run to the beach, following the sweet sound of the copter. Waves crash to warm sand. Blue sky is empty. And suddenly it is there. The silver lines of the machine glimmer in the sun, as it curves towards them. The roaring intensifies until they can hardly hear their own screams. The copter flies over them, so close they can see the grinning pilot.
The relief is so huge there are no words. They hug each other, laugh and cry, and hug again. When the copter starts to lower itself to the beach, they start to jump once more. Their very own tribal dance of joy.
II: 31 days after the crash
It was a stroke of luck, a shooting star, really. I mean, what are the odds that a Japanese billionaire docks his yacht in front of their beach to have a little private picnic with his secretary?
Of all the ways to be rescued, this had never entered their minds. Who could imagine this huge, luxurious boat, calmly gliding towards the island? It was surreal. They admired the yacht for the first few seconds before realising that a boat meant also- PEOPLE!
It was another miracle that the yacht didn't turn around when its crew spotted the crazy natives jumping and screaming on the beach. It didn't take long though for them to realise that something was seriously amiss with the small group, as it didn't take long for the billionaire to realise that his picnic was being seriously hampered.
In spite of them all talking at once, the stranded seven got their story told to the very confused Japanese businessman, with the help of the translation skills of the yacht's captain. Before they knew it, they had been given their very own cabins and a promise of a speedy ride to the nearest port.
They ate the picnic on the deck of the boat, watching their island as it got further and further away.
III: 46 days after the crash
Surviving isn't all about finding food and water and shelter. It is also surviving each other. They bicker and fight, say words they can't take back. Every fault is that much more annoying, every bad habit ten times more disgusting. But they know it would be worse to be alone.
They laugh and talk, sit together around the fire. Sometimes they are silent, and it is comfortable. They have become natural around each other. All their clothes hang mixed in the clothesline.
But as much as they know each other, as much as they talk and yell, there are things that are never said. Emotions that run from one spectrum to the other. Secret looks and wishes and dreams. They go around in circles, knowing that someday they'll have to meet.
And after 46 days, they come together under some palm tree, while taking break from carrying the heavy water canisters. Almost casually, he leans in and kisses her.
This is what rescue must feel like, she thinks.
IV: 52 days after the crash
He can't take it anymore, the waiting. He'll make his own rescue.
The others don't stop him, when he leaves. They don't even bitch about the supplies that are packed in his bag. No one says it, but he has become their only chance of getting of the island. They also know that he isn't doing this for them.
The solemn goodbyes are short and there are no tears. It suits him, for he is eager to leave. For the first time in weeks, he is full of excitement and hope. The unexplored island is full of opportunities, not dangers. He feels confident and strong. He'll show them.
He doesn't look back.
V: 54 days after the crash
They smell the coming parting days before it comes. It hovers over them, slithers into their hearts. They never thought it could be like this.
A slip of foot on the rocks, a balance lost, a fall. Ordinary occurrence enough, although this time it is no scrape or bruise. It's twisted and broken and bleeding, and they don't know how to fix it.
It soon becomes apparent that the wound has been infected. They use everything they have in their first aid kit, but still the infection spreads like a poisonous snake further up, from the calf to the knee. She sobs over her tarnished leg as the others listen. Then she stops and starts to dream about dancing, ice-cream, shopping, rescue, home and falling into darkness and breaking something.
The feverish dreams last four days. They whisper nonsense into her ears, hold her hands, trying to sooth her down. She is deep in her own world and doesn't respond. It seems to go on forever, this slow and painful goodbye. They have even gotten used to the rotten smell of the decaying leg.
And then it is suddenly over. She is cool and still and gone.
VI: 115 days after the crash
They are finally desperate enough, so they set sail.
The raft is as good as they can make it, loaded with food and water. They let the current take them further away from the island, until it is impossible to paddle back. They are on their own now, but that is nothing new; they have just traded the land to the sea. But what a change!
The sea is always moving underneath them, rocking and tossing their new home. The wind is stronger, all around them. There is no shelter from the sun or the rain. Everything is wet, all the time, the waves spilling over the raft, jumping to their skin. They are on this together - literally. There is no place to go. Just the sea.
They pray good weather. They pray ships passing and food lasting. They pray civilization. But most of all, they pray that they are still remembered.
VII: many years after the crash
It is sudden, almost violent, when it happens.
Unfamiliar voices, sounds of people walking through the vegetation. Stopping at their kitchen garden. And he thoughts I hope they don't trot on the plants, and then he stops thinking all together. There are people on their island, strange people that are not part of their diminished group.
He walks back to home and finds her rocking their baby in front of the fire. He can hear the others -those that are part of them- on the beach. Her first question, when he tells her, is not what? but who?. And what they should serve them.
The visitors are soon revealed to be a group of biologists, studying the unique plant life of the island. They are amazed by their latest discovery, a group of plane crash survivors. They study the wreck of the plane, the shelters and huts of the camp, all the while asking question upon question.
Finally the visitors calm down enough to sit by the fire. Their hosts serve them water and fruit. This is not a rescue, but an accident he thoughts and for a small moment feels unbelievably sad, until his baby laughs.