On day thirty five, Harm and Mac decided to embark on a closer investigation of the far side of the island. From time to time, items washed up on the beach near their camp that were beneficial, or at the least, provided an interesting diversion. They once discovered a soggy newspaper, in Spanish no less, but they dried it out and combed through it like it held the key to their impending prison escape. Mac translated what she could, and they were riveted by news of the world. It left them a bit homesick, but the paper generated a renewed interest in reconnecting to outside civilization. With expectations high, they went searching for more secrets on the other side of the isle. They were eager in anticipation of what they would find.
Harm and Mac hiked along for hours, foraging a trail over the dividing ridge, following rocky coves and inlets, and patrolling the beaches for new treasures. In the latter part of the day, Mac asked to take a quick break, and Harm politely sat down on a rocky overhang to wait for her. As he drank some water, he took in the pretty view and contemplated what they'd found thus far. Bird songs could be heard high overhead, along with the distant drone of an engine. After a split-second delay, Harm registered what his ears perceived and jumped up to scour the sky. He yelled out to Mac in a voice of unrestrained excitement, and she came running out from the trees within seconds. Once she registered that is was an airplane, Mac was beside herself in enthusiasm. They both spotted the plane at the same time, low and to the left of their position, and began waving their arms and screaming loudly. There was no time to run up the hill to light the help signal, or to retrieve the flare gun. They kept up their alarm calls vigilantly, even as the aircraft began to drift out of sight. Despite all their efforts, the plane flew past, never once veering from its course. As the horrible reality set in, Harm and Mac sagged against each other. They could hardly speak, their throats were so choked in crushing disappointment. It was unfathomable. Of all days to be on the wrong side of the island. Why? Why did they have to choose that day to leave the camp site, where the flare gun always sat out unused. Neither Harm nor Mac could believe it. Without talking, they headed back to their encampment in disillusionment. They both staggered with a profound sense of loss. When they reached the shelter, Mac sunk down in the sand and covered her face in her hands. This was a big setback. It was almost overwhelming to think about how close they might have been to a rescue…so close, but yet so far. Fate had dictated the unfortunate outcome.
Harm approached Mac and knelt down behind her. He rested his hands on her back. He could hear her crying softly, and that sound nearly moved him to tears. He gripped her shoulders and hugged her from behind. Then he pulled her back into an embrace and rested her wet face against his chest, settling down against a log. He didn't say anything for quite a while. He just stroked her hair in slow circles. Eventually, Mac quieted down and relaxed in Harm's strong arms. His tenderness and concern enveloped her. The sky had darkened, and they sat nearly motionless for a half an hour, each left with their own feelings of depression and sadness.
It was Mac who broke the silence, cutting into Harm's drifting thoughts.
"Harm, do you think we will ever really get out of here?" she asked in dejection.
"Of course we will. It is just a matter of time," he said soothingly. He continued to caress her hair.
"I just want to go home."
"I know, I know…This was just a huge disappointment, …but we will get off this island."
After a pause, Mac continued, "Do you think it will be before I turn 40, because I have other plans. I was thinking of taking up bungie jumping for one thing, and I want a big party with lots of scrumptious food." Mac felt a chuckle rumble through Harm's chest.
"Hey, I'm closer to that than you are, and I'm not worried. We'll get home, and you can have a banquet. I promise. You can invite all of your friends, and even Jingo can sit at the table." He tried to reassure her with his words and a comforting squeeze. "You know, it could be worse. You could've been stuck here with Commander Lindsey."
"He's in Leavenworth. He's probably got it better than we do."
"It's not so bad…"
"Well, at least he gets hamburgers and French fries, and hot showers, and maybe donuts in the morning with jelly filling, or pot roast on Tuesdays…"
"Are you telling me you're hungry, Mac?" Harm interrupted with a smirk on his face.
"You got any chocolate up your sleeve?" Mac glanced up hopefully.
"No, but I know where I can find some fish filet," Harm offered.
"Well, I guess that will have to do…if you're absolutely set on that. You need to branch out though, Harm. You're kind of getting into a rut with your fish obsession. Maybe we ought to examine that. There could be deeper issues."
"I'm not going there with you!" Harm teased. They laughed lightly, and Mac moved to get up and help start their meal. It wasn't room service, but it kept them alive.