8. Shipwrecked

Consciousness came with the sensation of air being forced into his lungs. But it wasn't enough. He had to breathe, but he couldn't. An overwhelmingly powerful urge to cough seized his entire body and he launched into a coughing, choking, gasping fit. He coughed hard until the muscles in his chest ached. And with each spasm he could feel water being expelled from his lungs. Finally, when he could breathe easily he opened his eyes. Balki's worried face took up most of his blurred vision.

"Are you alright?"

Larry nodded weakly and struggled to sit up.

Balki's eyes closed for a moment and let out a small breath of relief. "Oh, Cousin, I was so worried for you I thought my heart would attack me." Balki put a hand over his chest as if to still the organ in question. "You cough up enough water to drown a house!"

Larry nodded again, still trying to catch his bearings.

"It was a good thing I found you when I did or I wouldn't have been able to resuscitate you."

Larry turned to Balki in alarm. " 'Resuscitate'? You did mouth to mouth on me?" He didn't know whether to be grateful or disturbed.

Balki shook his head with a wave of his hand. "Of course not, don' be ridiculous!"

Larry breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's 'mouth-to-nose resuscitation' and it's one of the first things they teach you in sheepherder's class. Although I really wish they would get those dummies to practice on because the sheep never hold still long enough."

"Well, thank you, Balki." Larry said sincerely, trying valiantly to ignore the sheep remark. "You saved my life."

"I'm just glad you're alive. When I first find you wash up on the beach I was so afraid..." Balki swallowed hard as if the very memory disturbed him deeply. "...I thought you were… I thought I was shipwrecked alone."

Larry's eyes suddenly grew wide. "Shipwrecked!" He leaped to his feet and spun in a circle but all there was to see was a long beach, the ocean and palm trees. "Balki, were shipwrecked!"

"Don't I just say that?" Balki's brows came together worriedly. "I think the temporary lack of oxygen to your brain is affecting your hearing."

Larry's breathing began to quicken. "What are we going to do?!" He grabbed Balki by the shirt and shook him. "What are we going to do?!"

"Come on, Cousin." Balki reached a hand around and patted Larry on the top of his wet head. "Don't get mad. Get glad. You got to look on the bright side."

Larry gaped at him in open-mouthed disbelief. "Bright side? Balki, we are marooned, stranded, shipwrecked! What bright side?!"

"Well," Balki replied calmly, prying Larry's fingers from his shirt. "We are on dry ground, you're not seasick anymore, we unhurt, and we still have each other." He paused for a moment, then added. "Besides we've got this nifty postcard view." He made a sweeping gesture encompassing the pearly white sands, the calm, turquoise sea with its gently lapping waves and the bright green palm trees swaying in the soft breeze.

"We're gonna die!" Larry's voice began to rise in pitch until it reached a squeaky whine. "We've got no food, no fresh water, no..."

Balki interrupted with the Gilligan's Island theme song. "No phones, no lights, no motor cars. Not a single luxury. Like Robinson Crusoe it's primitive as can be!" When Larry gave him a dirty look he stopped singing and put an arm around his panicking friend. "Come on, Cousin. We have to keep stiff lower lip!"

"That's 'upper lip.' " Larry corrected automatically.

"Well, you'll have to settle with lower 'cuz your upper lip is nothing to write Mama about."

Larry ran a shaky hand through his damp curls and looked as if he was about to cry.

"Besides," Balki continued lightly. "When they see the lifeboat is gone and find us missing they'll send out a search party."

"You think so?" Larry squeaked, his breathing beginning to slow at the prospect of being rescued.

"I know so."

"You're right. You're right." He took a couple of deep breaths and the panic began to fade. "They'll find us. But those searches can take days. So if we're going to survive we need a plan."

Balki rolled his eyes heavenward. "Hooo boy."

"The first thing we need..." Larry began in his 'take charge' voice. "Is a fire. Then after we're warm and dry we'll look for food and fresh water."

"There's a stream back that way." Balki gestured behind him.

"Okay, we'll build our fire there."

They started off along the beach, Larry's shoes squishing with each step.

"Why you don't take your shoes off?" Balki suggested, motioning to his own shoes, which were tied together at the laces and thrown over his shoulder.

Larry glanced down uncertainly. "I don't know Balki. I really don't like going barefoot. In the apartment is one thing but out here…you never know what you might step on." He paused for a moment then added: "…or in."

"Walking in warm sand with bare feet is one of the great pleasures of life. Besides, your shoes are wet and you get sand in them anyway."

"You've got a point there." He stopped for a moment to slip off his shoes and stuff his soggy socks inside them. Then, after rolling up his pants to just below the knee, so as not to get his cuffs sandy, they continued down the beach.

"There, isn't that better? Feel that sand between your toes! Don't you feel like a real live beach bummer?"

It wasn't five minutes before they reached a happy little brook that wound it's way through the jungle foliage to the beach. Larry dropped to his knees and drank in voracious gulps. The fresh liquid tasted delightfully sweet after swallowing so much salt water. He sat up with a satisfied sigh. "Well, there's one thing down." He gave a brisk nod and flicked the air with his finger as if checking something off a list.. His eyebrows came together in a thoughtful frown. "Boy, I wish I had my clipboard."

"Well, I wish I had Dimitri. But wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin' ain't gonna get us babasticki."

"You're right. We've got to get to work." Larry said, standing and walking to the tide line where he picked up several pieces of dry driftwood and dropped them near a large log that had once been a palm tree. "You know," He began with a proud air, as he got to his knees before the small pile of wood. "I used to be a Cub Scout."

"What kind of cubs did you scout for?" Balki asked innocently as he sat on the log, watching his cousin curiously.

"No, not 'cub scout', Cub Scout. It's a group where kids are taught about wilderness survival."

"Ooh. Oh, I see." Balki nodded in apparent understanding. After a long pause he asked: "So, bears, lions or wolves?"

Larry turned to give his cousin a long look then finally said: "Bears." He turned back to the task at hand. He took a stick in each hand and began to rub them together vigorously.

"Cousin, what…what are you doing?" Balki asked, trying to hold back an amused grin.

"I'm building a fire." He answered, his voice vibrating along with the motion. "You see, rubbing the wood together builds friction and friction causes heat and when you get enough heat you get fire."

"I see. But wouldn't it be easier if you…"

Larry put up a halting hand. "Balki, this takes concentration."

"Yes, but don't you think that…"

"I know what I'm doing."

"Be that as that may be. I still thought you might…"

Larry gave Balki a pointed glare. "Balki, how many Cub Scout meetings have you attended?"

"Well, Cousin, I…"

"How many?"

"Eh…"

"How many?"

"Well…"

"How many Cub Scout meetings have you attended in your lifetime?"

"None."

"None? As in zero? As in never, ever have you attended a Cub Scout meeting in your lifetime?"

"That is correct." Balki answered with a hint of a smug grin.

"Well I have attended numerous Cub Scout meetings. I even made Bobcat! So, it would appear that I am the more qualified party here. Wouldn't it."

"So it would appear." Larry failed to notice the complete self-confidence in Balki's voice.

"Well, there you go." He turned away and once again concentrated on rubbing sticks together.

Balki rolled his eyes heavenward and grumbled quietly to himself in Myposian.

"That is very distracting." Larry said without breaking the rhythm. "If all you're going to do is criticize why don't you go someplace else and do something productive, like find us something to eat."

"Now that is a good idea." Balki rose to his feet and marched off toward the water, leaving his cousin to play with his sticks.

Larry wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there trying to make a fire, but it had to have been at least an hour. His arms were sore, his hands were blistered and he was about ready to scream. He didn't look up when he heard Balki's soft footsteps.

"Cousin?"

"What!?" He barked testily, not taking his eyes off the futile task at hand.

"Not working is it?" Balki's voice was soft and the question was not meant mockingly.

"It's working fine!" Larry shouted. "I just need more friction. If I just…I need to…Maybe…" Suddenly he threw the sticks to the ground and his voice rose to a distressed whine. "Balki, it's not working!" His breathing began to quicken and he brought a hand up to the side of his face as if he were physically trying to hold himself together.

"Maybe it would be easier if you used this."

A small flame alit two inches from Larry's face, causing him to go cross-eyed trying to look at it. He pushed Balki's hand back a bit so he could get a better look, then he turned to his cousin accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me you had a lighter?"

"I tried." Balki flicked the lighter closed and crossed his arms. "But you're listening skills have nothing to be desired." He tossed the lighter to Larry. "Here. We going to need a fire to cook these."

Larry frowned. "Cook what?"

Balki motioned to two large fish laid out on the log behind them.

Larry's eyes widened and his mouth dropped. "Where did you get those?!" He moved over to the log to get a better look.

"Where else you gonna get fish?" Balki pointed toward the ocean.

"But you don't have a hook or a net or anything." He picked up one of the fish, examining it closely. He wasn't sure he wanted to eat it if Balki had just found it dead somewhere. But it looked healthy enough, despite the fact that it was dead, of course.

Balki shook his head with a condescending smile. "You don't need those things in shallow water."

"Then what did you use?"

In answer Balki held up his hands, palms outspread and wiggled his fingers.

Larry's eyed his cousin skeptically. "You caught those fish with your hands?"

"Of course I did. Don' be ridiculous. What else I'm gonna catch them with? My feet?" He slapped his knee with a sharp laugh as if he had just told the funniest joke in the world.

Larry completely ignored his cousin's attempt at humor. "You couldn't have."

Balki rolled his eyes with an irritated sigh. "Cousin, we haven't eaten in two days. It's food. Don't kiss a gift horse in the mouth."

"Good advice." Larry said with a wry smile as he bent down, flicked the lighter on and began to work on lighting a fire.

"And I clean the fish." Balki remarked happily, reaching into his pants and pulling out a small pocket knife.

"Where'd you get that?" Larry was surprised at how prepared his cousin seemed to be. He knew Balki didn't usually carry around a lighter and a knife.

"The ship have a gift shop. You really should have explore the boat with me. Anyway, they have a lot of neat things in there like alligator heads and little tiny spoons with pictures on the handles but these.." He motioned to the knife and the lighter. "…really took my eyes." He sidled up to Larry, holding the pocket-knife up so he could see. "Look, they have sheep on them!"

Larry looked closer and sure enough, both the lighter and the knife, which were obviously a set, had a French Impressionistic-looking painting printed on them of a small boy with a shepherd's crook gazing out over a field of sheep.

"Isn't it pretty? It reminds me of Mypos."

"Very nice." Larry said, wishing he were in that tranquil setting instead of stranded in the middle of nowhere.

"You know, this panting just blew my mind up!" He shook his head in awe as he tapped the knife handle with his index finger. "How in the world did they paint it so small?"

"They used a one bristle brush." Larry explained, not wanting to go into the mechanics of print transfer. He bent back over the small pile of driftwood and began to work on the fire. "Come on, buddy. Let's get those fish cooked. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."