Island
After three days of being stranded on the island, we began to see shapes on the horizon. At first, we were thrown into a frenzy. We used all of our flares trying to catch the attention of ships that were never there. We wasted all of our matches trying to light a signal fire. We ate the small amount of food we had, without thinking about what would happen if we weren’t saved before it ran out. We weren’t thinking long term. Why would we?
The island was a desolate rock in the middle of the ocean. There were three small bushes—if you could call a foot high pile of green leaves a bush— in the middle of the rock. The remains of the plane were on the far side of the island. At first, we had remained close to the hunk of metal as it offered some cover from the relentless wind. After a day, the pilot’s body began to smell and we moved away. We would have buried the man, given him some respect, but four inches into the ground we hit rock.
Now, we had been on the island six days and we had no food, no water, and no hope of being saved. Actually, I had no hope of being saved, Mason was still holding onto the belief that someone would come and find us.
Mason was a hopeful guy and I admired that in the face of imminent death he could be chipper. I admired that even though we knew that there was no rescue on the way, he would tell me that I only needed to hold on for a few more hours.
I like science and numbers. The first day we were on the island, I reassured myself by saying that most plane crash victims were found within hours of the crash. The numbers and statistic were lined up in my brain and I was more than happy to buy into Mason’s hopeful beliefs. However, after 48 hours, the odds of being found decreased significantly.
I had started to wonder what factors had played into our continued situation. We had been the only two passengers on the plane. The pilot had requested cash. He hadn’t even radioed anyone before we took off. Did anyone know that the plane had taken off? Did anyone know that we were missing?
“The bottles are empty,” Mason said, sitting down beside me.
“They’ve been empty for two days,” I replied, unfazed by the news. “It hasn’t rained in those two days, where would they have collected water from?”
“I don’t know, condensation?” Mason suggested, his tone upbeat. “I’m sure we’ll get some rain in a few hours.”
I looked up at the sky; it was a clear day, not a cloud in sight. Mason did the same and for a moment I saw a look of concern flicker over his face. But, sure enough, the corners of his lips curved up and he smiled at me. I wondered how much effort that smile took. He had to know that we wouldn’t last much longer without water. Didn’t he?
“I figure, since I had the soft patch of sand last night, you can have it tonight,” Mason reasoned, gesturing to the sand in front of us. “It’s not a huge difference. But I think if you compare the two spots, you’ll find that it is significantly more comfortable.”
“You know that weren’t going to die, don’t you?” I demanded, turning so that I was facing Mason. “Somewhere in your stupid, optimistic brain there has to be some kind of logic and reason. You went to high school, hell, you’re majoring in biology, you know how long a person can go without food and water. We’re approaching that point, Mason.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll get some water before we reach that point,” he replied, without looking at me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. I wanted him to acknowledge that we were about to die. He needed to understand that this was possibly our last day on earth.
“What if we don’t?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. “What if we don’t get water?”
Mason stood up and walked away from me. He didn’t want to have to answer my questions, but I stood up and tried to run after him. My legs were too weak and nearly collapsed beneath me, but I managed to follow him.
“Mason! You have to answer me,” I screamed, hoarsely. “You have to tell me that you know we’re going to die. You have to tell me that you can feel yourself getting weaker. You have to tell me that you can feel your legs falling out from under you. You have to tell me that you feel your chest getting heavier and heavier. You have to tell me that you can feel it getting harder to live.”
“Why?” Mason’s scream was broken and cut through me to my heart. “Why do you want me to tell you that? Why the hell are you so willing to accept that we’re going to die? I know we’re probably going to die. I knew that from the first day we were on this damn rock. But, I wasn’t about to admit it. Unlike you, I don’t want to die. So, unlike you, I’m going to pretend that we’re not going to.”
Mason continued to storm away from me. I let him go. I had pushed him too far already. Allowing my legs to collapse, I fell to the ground. The ache of my body was getting harder and harder to bare. I was breathing heavy from walking that far. My lungs felt as though they were made of tissue paper, if stretched too far they would rip. My throat was full of cotton and sandpaper, dry and painful to move.
I thought about what Mason had said. Had I so readily accepted death because I wanted to die? I didn't’ think that I wanted to die, but it was impossible to see any other future. Wasn’t it better to accept your fate than to deny it? Wasn’t it better to know what was happening than to deny it?
I didn’t know the answers to those questions. However, I did know that if dying felt anything like living did, I wanted it to happen quickly. Every time I took a deep breath in, I wished it was my last. Why couldn’t I have died on impact? Like the pilot, put out of his misery in seconds.
It was then that I realized, I had just answered my own question. I did want to die. I hadn’t at first, but with living seemingly the more painful option, I had come to desire my own unfortunate end. I wanted death to come sooner rather than later, I was romanticizing quick deaths and envying those who had gotten them. That was when I knew what I wanted to do.
On shaky legs, I stood. I made my way towards the crashed plane, slowly. The smell had faded from the area, but I still avoided the cockpit. I pulled out one of the torn seat belts and lugged a heavy piece of wreckage towards the edge of the water. I used the seat belt to attach the chunk of metal to my leg. When I was satisfied that it was secure, I turned to take one last look at the island.
From across the island, I saw Mason watching me. He looked confused, and then he seemed to realize what I was doing. He stood up, struggling. He began to run towards me, as fast as his shaking legs would carry him. I took a deep breath, my last breath, my last painful breath, and pushed the hunk of metal into the water. It sank faster than I expected, dragging me under so fast I nearly dashed my head on the surface of the island.
As I began to sink through the water, I saw a shadow above me. It was large. It appeared to be spinning, or part of it was. It stopped moving, but the spinning continued. That's when I realized it was a helicopter. A helicopter had just landed on the island. We were saved.
I tried to swim towards the surface but the metal only dragged me down faster. I felt water entering my lungs as I opened my mouth to scream. I couldn’t get to the surface. I was going to drown. I watched as the surface and the rest of the water grew dark around me and faded to nothingness. As the world around me turned black, I realized that my body didn’t hurt anymore.
After three days of being stranded on the island, we began to see shapes on the horizon. At first, we were thrown into a frenzy. We used all of our flares trying to catch the attention of ships that were never there. We wasted all of our matches trying to light a signal fire. We ate the small amount of food we had, without thinking about what would happen if we weren’t saved before it ran out. We weren’t thinking long term. Why would we?
The island was a desolate rock in the middle of the ocean. There were three small bushes—if you could call a foot high pile of green leaves a bush— in the middle of the rock. The remains of the plane were on the far side of the island. At first, we had remained close to the hunk of metal as it offered some cover from the relentless wind. After a day, the pilot’s body began to smell and we moved away. We would have buried the man, given him some respect, but four inches into the ground we hit rock.
Now, we had been on the island six days and we had no food, no water, and no hope of being saved. Actually, I had no hope of being saved, Mason was still holding onto the belief that someone would come and find us.
Mason was a hopeful guy and I admired that in the face of imminent death he could be chipper. I admired that even though we knew that there was no rescue on the way, he would tell me that I only needed to hold on for a few more hours.
I like science and numbers. The first day we were on the island, I reassured myself by saying that most plane crash victims were found within hours of the crash. The numbers and statistic were lined up in my brain and I was more than happy to buy into Mason’s hopeful beliefs. However, after 48 hours, the odds of being found decreased significantly.
I had started to wonder what factors had played into our continued situation. We had been the only two passengers on the plane. The pilot had requested cash. He hadn’t even radioed anyone before we took off. Did anyone know that the plane had taken off? Did anyone know that we were missing?
“The bottles are empty,” Mason said, sitting down beside me.
“They’ve been empty for two days,” I replied, unfazed by the news. “It hasn’t rained in those two days, where would they have collected water from?”
“I don’t know, condensation?” Mason suggested, his tone upbeat. “I’m sure we’ll get some rain in a few hours.”
I looked up at the sky; it was a clear day, not a cloud in sight. Mason did the same and for a moment I saw a look of concern flicker over his face. But, sure enough, the corners of his lips curved up and he smiled at me. I wondered how much effort that smile took. He had to know that we wouldn’t last much longer without water. Didn’t he?
“I figure, since I had the soft patch of sand last night, you can have it tonight,” Mason reasoned, gesturing to the sand in front of us. “It’s not a huge difference. But I think if you compare the two spots, you’ll find that it is significantly more comfortable.”
“You know that weren’t going to die, don’t you?” I demanded, turning so that I was facing Mason. “Somewhere in your stupid, optimistic brain there has to be some kind of logic and reason. You went to high school, hell, you’re majoring in biology, you know how long a person can go without food and water. We’re approaching that point, Mason.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll get some water before we reach that point,” he replied, without looking at me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. I wanted him to acknowledge that we were about to die. He needed to understand that this was possibly our last day on earth.
“What if we don’t?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. “What if we don’t get water?”
Mason stood up and walked away from me. He didn’t want to have to answer my questions, but I stood up and tried to run after him. My legs were too weak and nearly collapsed beneath me, but I managed to follow him.
“Mason! You have to answer me,” I screamed, hoarsely. “You have to tell me that you know we’re going to die. You have to tell me that you can feel yourself getting weaker. You have to tell me that you can feel your legs falling out from under you. You have to tell me that you feel your chest getting heavier and heavier. You have to tell me that you can feel it getting harder to live.”
“Why?” Mason’s scream was broken and cut through me to my heart. “Why do you want me to tell you that? Why the hell are you so willing to accept that we’re going to die? I know we’re probably going to die. I knew that from the first day we were on this damn rock. But, I wasn’t about to admit it. Unlike you, I don’t want to die. So, unlike you, I’m going to pretend that we’re not going to.”
Mason continued to storm away from me. I let him go. I had pushed him too far already. Allowing my legs to collapse, I fell to the ground. The ache of my body was getting harder and harder to bare. I was breathing heavy from walking that far. My lungs felt as though they were made of tissue paper, if stretched too far they would rip. My throat was full of cotton and sandpaper, dry and painful to move.
I thought about what Mason had said. Had I so readily accepted death because I wanted to die? I didn't’ think that I wanted to die, but it was impossible to see any other future. Wasn’t it better to accept your fate than to deny it? Wasn’t it better to know what was happening than to deny it?
I didn’t know the answers to those questions. However, I did know that if dying felt anything like living did, I wanted it to happen quickly. Every time I took a deep breath in, I wished it was my last. Why couldn’t I have died on impact? Like the pilot, put out of his misery in seconds.
It was then that I realized, I had just answered my own question. I did want to die. I hadn’t at first, but with living seemingly the more painful option, I had come to desire my own unfortunate end. I wanted death to come sooner rather than later, I was romanticizing quick deaths and envying those who had gotten them. That was when I knew what I wanted to do.
On shaky legs, I stood. I made my way towards the crashed plane, slowly. The smell had faded from the area, but I still avoided the cockpit. I pulled out one of the torn seat belts and lugged a heavy piece of wreckage towards the edge of the water. I used the seat belt to attach the chunk of metal to my leg. When I was satisfied that it was secure, I turned to take one last look at the island.
From across the island, I saw Mason watching me. He looked confused, and then he seemed to realize what I was doing. He stood up, struggling. He began to run towards me, as fast as his shaking legs would carry him. I took a deep breath, my last breath, my last painful breath, and pushed the hunk of metal into the water. It sank faster than I expected, dragging me under so fast I nearly dashed my head on the surface of the island.
As I began to sink through the water, I saw a shadow above me. It was large. It appeared to be spinning, or part of it was. It stopped moving, but the spinning continued. That's when I realized it was a helicopter. A helicopter had just landed on the island. We were saved.
I tried to swim towards the surface but the metal only dragged me down faster. I felt water entering my lungs as I opened my mouth to scream. I couldn’t get to the surface. I was going to drown. I watched as the surface and the rest of the water grew dark around me and faded to nothingness. As the world around me turned black, I realized that my body didn’t hurt anymore.