A desert island…

Somewhere between Papeete and Makatea

The azure blue of the fine weather was now replaced by the black of the storm in the sky. It was still early and Tom, sitting in the sand facing the sea, was desperately trying to identify on a map the island on which they had crashed. He was puzzled. This island was not listed and seemed out of nowhere. He grabbed the bottle of rum that he found in the surplus and drank a mouthful of it. He was going to need courage to face the wrath of Sybil when she woke up.

After their disastrous landing, they both had lost consciousness probably because their heads had hit the cockpit. Tom woke up first in the wee hours of the morning and, after checking that Sybil was all right and was just sleeping because of her overdose of pills, he extracted himself from the plane to try and devise a plan to get them out of their miserable predicament.

A sound of scrap metal coming from the plane echoed over the sound of the waves, but Tom didn't move. He knew it was Sybil who probably was waking up and that he would have to face her soon enough. She popped her head out through the window and blinked, as if she was awaking from a bad dream. She looked around her, slightly disoriented and lost, before trying to get out of the plane. But she misjudged her steps because the plane's nose was face down in the sand and she fell face down on the gold floor of the beach.

"Shit," she groaned, blowing to remove the sand on her. "Ohhhh…"

Her head was buzzing and she was under the impression that it was surrounded with cotton; probably because of the number of pills she took the previous night to erase her fear.

Tom turned around but didn't move a bit to help her to get up.

"Good morning!" he only exclaimed.

Sybil rolled on her back and looked in his direction without seeming to recognize him.

"Can you please bring me a coffee?"

"Yeah, of course. Immediately, Milady."

The sound of his voice seemed to bring Sybil back to reality and she lifted her head to take a better look at him.

"Oh, shit," she groaned, rolling again on her belly. So it wasn't a nightmare. "Where are we?" she asked finally getting up.

"Here," was Tom's only answer.

"Where?" asked Sybil, looking around her.

"Somewhere between Makatea and Tahiti," Tom told her pointing at the sea with a helpless gesture. "That's all I can tell you."

Sybil sighed and then turned to the plane.

"Oh God," she said, noting the damages. "What happened?"

"When we hit the rock, we bent the undercarriage," answered Tom, getting up.

Turning sharply to him, Sybil asked with worry, "But you're gonna fix it? Surely there is some way to fix it?"

"Oh, yeah, we could…with a little bit of glue…what do you say?" Tom replied sarcastically.

"You're not one of those guys, then? I thought you were…after watching you for so long in my father's garage…"

"What guys?" asked Tom, walking to her.

"The real ones, you know. The pure and hard*. The guys clever with their hands!"

"Clever?" scolded Tom, threatening.

"Yes. You let them in the jungle with a knife and a cotton swab and they build a shopping center!"

Tom looked at her with wide eyes, like she had lost her mind.

"You don't know how to make it?"

"No…no, I don't know how to make it," said Tom seeming truly sorry. "But I know how to do this," he added, putting his finger in his mouth against his cheek to make it slap. "Is it useful?"

Sybil was fuming. She glared at him as they were toe to toe, their noses almost touching. They were looking into each other's eyes, neither of them wanting to be the first one to turn away. But Sybil finally gave up.

"I'm gonna get us out of here."

"Ah, thank God," said Tom, raising his arms to the sky.

"Yes!" retorted Sybil, stomping back to the plane.

She searched a moment in the back seat where she was first seated the previous night and she walked back to him, triumphantly brandishing the item she was holding in her hand.

"So? A cell phone! Ahahahaha, I'm gonna get us out of here!"

She drummed over the keyboard frantically, lifting the phone in the air to find a signal.

"Pronto!" She exclaimed, pacing.

Tom was looking at her from the corner of his eye as he was gathering some of the items that had been scattered following the crash.

Finally, she had to give up and she dropped herself on a box that Tom had put under a coconut palm. Out of frustration, she threw the phone behind her and took her head in her hands, sighing loudly. She had to admit that she was really stuck on this island with Tom. Although the idea wasn't 100% unpleasant, that wasn't the way she had planned her holidays and even less, her engagement. Her thoughts went then to Larry who was probably more than worried and she found a new energy, realizing that help would probably be organized and sent to find them.

Tom came near her spot and threw some packages on the sand. Sybil looked up at him.

"So? What are we? Shipwrecked?"

"How do you want it?" asked Tom, exasperated.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you want it sugar-coated? Or would you rather the brutal truth? "

"As you wish."

Tom sat on the box in front of Sybil.

"We only have one wheel…so, we can't take off. The lightning burned the radio and the SOS light that could have sent signals is dead. They will probably send a helicopter to search for us but without an SOS light to guide them, it will be like trying to find a fly in an elephant's ass. All we have is…this flare of distress," added Tom, showing her the item. A single flare.

"Is it too late to have it sugar-coated?"

"It was sugar-coated," finished Tom getting up.

"So, what is the bad news?"

Tom sighed.

"The bad news is that we're probably stuck here…for a while. You and me," he added pointing his finger from him to her.

An angel flew by and their eyes locked.

"A long, long…long…long, long, long…while," finished Tom before turning away.

Sybil stayed silent a moment, watching him.

"In that case," she heard herself say, "give me back my 500 pounds."

Tom turned back to her.

"Excuse me?"

She didn't know why she had said that but now she could hardly do otherwise. And Tom seemed really upset to be stuck on this island and particularly with her so…she wasn't inclined to be easy on him.

"You heard me! Well? Give me back my 500 pounds!"

Tom looked at her, puzzled.

"You committed yourself to take me to Tahiti, and I'm not over there! I want my money back," she added, reaching out.

Tom was still fixed on her, still puzzled before searching in his pocket, seeing that she was very serious. He took out a bundle of 100 pounds bank notes.

"One…two…three" he counted, putting them in the palm of her hand.

Sybil was watching him, a satisfied look on her face. He took the last bank note and split it in two before giving it to her, proving by the gesture that he wasn't after her money.

"Hey!" she exclaimed.

"I took you half way," said Tom with a smile before walking away.

Sybil got up and ran after him, furious.

"Half way?!"

"Half way," repeated Tom, plunging his eyes in hers.

"Half way! Waouh, you're sooooooo good!" cried Sybil, stamping about on the beach. "Waouh, you took me half way, that's fantastic!"

And with a pirouette, she ran to the wrecked plane.

Inwardly, Tom was raging. He had forgotten how much this woman could be both exasperating and stubborn.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he called after her. "Hey, don't come close to my plane!" he roared, walking to her quickly.

"Oh, you'll see! I'm gonna do something!" she said, throwing an old net outside of the plane. "I'm full of resources!"

"Don't touch that!"

"Shut up!" she yelled at him, climbing in the plane.

"Get out here! Get out here, now!" He cried coming behind her. "What are you doing? Let my things be!" he said as Sybil was throwing all sorts of objects at him. "Enough!"

"What is this?" she asked showing him a big orange plastic bag. "Is it a boat?"

She sharply turned around to him.

"It's a life boat," said Tom with a laconic voice.

"We're gonna take it to leave the island!"

"And where are you going to go? You don't even know where you are! I doubt you want to be stranded on the ocean in a life boat barely measuring two meters!"

"It's not your business what I want," roared Sybil, putting the boat violently in front of her.

"Hey, don't pull at that!" yelled Tom.

But it was too late. The life boat began to inflate, trapping Sybil in the plane despite Tom's efforts to retrieve the thing in time. He sighed and turned around with a nonchalant step. As he was nearing the window, he heard a faint murmur…

"Branson…get me the hell out of here, get me…out…of here…"

Tom couldn't stop a smile from forming on his lips at seeing Sybil's face glued to the glass of the second door. He leaned to her.

"Will you stop acting like an idiot?"

"Go to hell!" roared Sybil.

"Excuse me?! What did you say?"

He saw Sybil twisting between the glass and the boat, and she made a gesture with her finger that was anything but lady-like.

"That's what I thought I heard," said Tom, nodding.

He got up and walked away.

"Branson…" moaned Sybil.

Tom didn't turn around. He decided to let her marinate a little bit before helping her out of her plastic trap. A few minutes in the cabin licked by the burning rays of the sun couldn't do her any harm and would allow her to think back at her crazy and unusual behavior.

To be continued

* Author's note : "pure and hard" is a French expression. The english equivalent would be "The real McCoy" or "The real deal".