Survivors (Stranded) (7 page)

C
arter startled himself awake.

He’d been dreaming—about what, he wasn’t even sure. Something had been chasing him. Something getting closer. Reaching out to grab him. And then—

He sat up on the deck, breathing heavily and remembering where he was. This fever wasn’t doing him any favors—that was for sure.

The campfire had burned down while he slept. Its embers were still bright orange, but he needed to feed it soon if he didn’t want to lose it. With Buzz, Vanessa, and Jane off sweating in the jungle, it was the very least he could do.

Carter shuffled across the deck and into the wheelhouse for more of the dry wood Buzz had stacked there. His bad hand was swollen stiff, but he could still grip certain things like pieces of firewood, as long as they weren’t too small. He bent down, grabbed an armload, and stood up.

His head swam. The room started spinning. Carter dropped the wood, leaned against the wall, and slid back down to the floor.

Tears squeezed out from the corners of his eyes. Even standing too fast was a problem. It was beyond frustrating. When they’d landed on the island, he had been the strong one. He had been the one they could all count on to get the most done. But not anymore.

Without thinking, he pounded the steel deck with his bad hand. It sent a nauseating bolt of pain up his arm, and he screamed—as much from the frustration as anything else. He took up a piece of the firewood with his good hand and flung it as hard as he could, not caring where it went.

A small crash sounded from the other side of the room, followed by the sound of broken glass falling onto the floor. Carter looked over to see a row of framed photographs above the wheelhouse windows. Two of them were smashed, their frames splintered at the corners.

He’d walked by those photos a hundred times without ever really noticing them. Now he saw that they were fishing pictures. In one, several men were casting off the back of a boat. In another, someone stood on a dock next to an enormous swordfish.

It was a painful reminder of Carter’s own empty belly and everything he hadn’t been able to accomplish here. He picked up another piece of wood and took out two more of the photos with one throw.

For a long time, Carter didn’t move. The anger that coursed through him was a paralyzing feeling. His muscles and his mind seemed locked up together inside of it. And who was there to blame for all this?
No one.
Not even himself.

They’d done nothing wrong. This was all supposed to have been a fun sailing trip, a week on the boat with Uncle Dexter. Their parents thought it would be a chance for the four kids to get to know one another better, as brothers and sisters. Now, here they were, fighting for their lives instead. And it sure didn’t feel like a fair fight.

Slowly, Carter’s thoughts evened out. He remem-bered what he had to do. He took his time standing up, gathered another armload of wood, and headed for the door.

He was nearly outside when he stopped again. Something about the fishing photos had caught his attention. One of them was different than the others, and he stepped back for a closer look.

The picture was an underwater shot. It showed a man in swim trunks, holding a spear of some kind. Instead of gripping the spear near the base like a regular weapon, the man held it near the barbed tip, with a long strap stretched all the way along its length. The whole thing seemed to be cocked like a slingshot, ready to fire.

It was nothing Carter had ever seen before, but as he looked at it, the spear made perfect sense. Vanessa had been talking about making a raft to get them out to the reef for fishing. It was a good idea, but what if they could get
down
to the reef as well? That’s where the fish really were, after all.

Carter went outside and stoked the campfire, then jumped off the ship and headed straight up into the jungle. Vanessa had been harvesting bamboo for the raft, and he went right to the grove she’d told him about.

When he got there, he scouted out a long thin piece. It was nearly six feet high where it grew. Perfect for what he had in mind. Using his good hand he grabbed hold of the cane, angled his foot against the base, and snapped it free.

Back at the ship, he reentered the wheelhouse. There, he turned his attention to the row of windows at the front of the room. Most of them had broken or missing glass, but they all still had the black rubber weather stripping that ran around their frames. When he poked at the material with his finger, it seemed spongy, and maybe even stretchy enough for the job. He reached up and peeled away one of the strips, being careful to keep it all in one piece.

Already, Carter felt completely exhausted. He knew he didn’t have much more in him, but he wanted to get this done.

With the bamboo wedged between his knees, he looped one end of the rubber strip around its base and used his teeth to grab the other end, cinching it tight. He repeated the process, tying it off with one of the knots Uncle Dexter had taught him on board the
Lucky Star
. Now he had a big lasso of rubber attached to the end of his would-be spear.

There was just one more step, maybe the most important one. He grabbed one of the sharp knives and whittled away the tip of the bamboo until he’d created a strong, sharp point.

Even in his feverish state, Carter felt just a little bit better. The others had been working hard while he’d slept next to the fire. But now, in less than half an hour, with just the materials he had on hand, he’d worked up a pretty good fishing spear. It was simple and crude, but if it worked, it would change everything. They wouldn’t have to starve, because they’d be drowning in fish.

The only thing left to do was test it out. But not right now. As much as he wanted to keep going, Carter’s swimming head and fuzzy thoughts told him otherwise. Reluctantly, he took some more wood out to the fire and lay down to close his eyes for a quick rest.

Just a few minutes,
Carter thought. Then he’d be right back at it.

When Buzz got back to the ship with the girls, Carter was up on the main deck, dozing next to the campfire. It looked as if he hadn’t moved from his spot in hours.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes as they all set down their armloads of fresh firewood.

“Any luck?” Carter asked.

“Well, the good news is, we found something to eat,” Buzz said.

“What’s the bad news?”

Buzz reached into his pocket and set down a handful of grubs.

“Say hello to our lunch.”

Vanessa laughed nervously, Jane didn’t say a word, and Carter leaned in for a better look. There were eighteen of them in all. A few of the grubs had died on the way, but most of them were wriggling around, trying to get back on their feet.

Buzz plopped down next to Carter, as did Jane and Vanessa.

“What are they?” Carter asked.

“You mean besides totally disgusting?” Jane asked. “They’re grubs. Buzz says they’re pure protein.”

Buzz couldn’t help feeling a little proud. Maybe the grubs
were
the grossest possible food source, but it was better than the alternative: no food at all.

“Who wants to go first?” he asked.

“I think you do,” Vanessa said.

It was hard to argue with that. “Yeah, all right,” he said. He picked one up and stared at it. The grub fidgeted back and forth between his fingers.

This is food
,
he told himself.
Nutrition. Protein
.
The stuff my body needs
.

Before he could think about it another second, he stuck the whole thing in his mouth and bit down hard. It sent a thick greenish liquid spilling over his lips and down his chin.

“EWWWW!” all three of the others groaned at once.

“
That
 . . . is the grossest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jane said.

Buzz knew he couldn’t stop now. He tilted his head back, fighting the urge to spit the whole thing out. The grub tasted like dirt and chemicals. It didn’t help that it was so chunky, either. But he kept on chewing, as fast as he could.

Finally, with one very hard gulp, it went down. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to show he’d done it.

“I can’t believe you just ate that,” Carter said.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Buzz lied, and downed half a bottle of water to wash away the taste. He could still feel bits and pieces on his tongue, but he tried not to think about that. “Who’s next?” he asked.

“Go ahead, Vanessa,” Carter said. “I dare you.”

“I dare
you
,” Vanessa said.

Carter picked up two of the grubs and held them out on his palm.

“Let’s race,” he said.

Vanessa grinned uneasily as she took one from him. “Yeah, all right.”

“Ready?” Jane asked. “One . . . two . . . three!”

Buzz watched as Vanessa tossed the grub onto her tongue, clapped both hands over her mouth, and started chewing.

“Carter!” Jane said. “That’s even . . . grosser!”

When Buzz looked over, Carter was unclenching his fist. His hand was covered in pieces of squished grub and the greenish liquid. He held it up to his mouth, scraped the mess off with his teeth, and swallowed it all in one pass.

“Hey!” Vanessa said. “That’s not fair!”

“Says who?” Carter asked. As if to make his point, he scooped up a second grub, squeezed it into a mush, and got it down before Vanessa had finished her first. All without a sip of water.

It wasn’t such a bad idea, Buzz thought. At least it got rid of the need for any chewing. He picked one up for himself, closed his eyes, and squeezed. A soft, warm goo filled his hand, but he didn’t look at it. He kept his eyes closed and downed the whole thing as quickly as possible. His stomach churned as he reached for the water bottle.

Vanessa was still struggling with her first one, but now that she’d started, she seemed determined to get through her share. She took a swig of water, picked up another grub, and kept going.

The whole time, Jane watched them as if she were sitting in front of a horror movie. Her hands never came down from her mouth, until finally, she scooted forward and looked down at the remaining wriggling grubs on the deck.

“What do you think, Jane?” Carter asked. His grin showed several little legs still stuck in his teeth, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the change in him was amazing. With even just a tiny bit of food, he was more alert than he’d been all day.

“Mom always says you should try everything once,” he added. “I’ll even mash it up for you.”

“Don’t bother,” Jane said. She took a thin stick from the pile of kindling near the fire. Then she skewered three grubs, one by one, and held them over the glowing embers to roast. They looked like the world’s ugliest marshmallows.

Buzz glanced at Carter and Vanessa, who looked back at him. It wasn’t the first time Jane had proven herself to be the smartest one in the group.

Soon, everyone had a skewer going. Green liquid dripped and sizzled into the fire while the grubs roasted away. Buzz wasn’t convinced this would make them taste any better, but one thing was for sure. They couldn’t taste any worse.

“Good idea, Janie,” Vanessa said.

“I’m going to pretend it’s cooked fish,” Jane said grimly. “And I don’t even like fish.”

“Oh—I almost forgot!” Carter said suddenly. He handed his skewer to Vanessa and walked toward the wheelhouse.

“Where are you going?” Vanessa called out.

“I have something to show you guys,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Carter came out of the wheelhouse carrying his invention, Jane knew what it was.

“That’s a Hawaiian sling!” she said. She abandoned her skewer of grubs and went over for a closer look.

“It’s just a spear,” Carter said.

“Yeah—a
fishing
spear,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Her brother shrugged. “I was pretty out of it when you got here.”

“How does it work?” Vanessa asked.

Carter held up the black-and-white photograph he’d found and passed it around.

“Ohh,” Buzz said, looking at the photo. “Sling, like slingshot. I get it.”

He fitted the lasso around his elbow and pulled the bamboo shaft back until he was holding the spear close to the tip, like the man in the picture. The rubber loop stretched tight along its length.