Part 46: Meanwhile . . .

McKay blew his sweat through his nose. It was difficult getting used to the humidity. Back home, it was hot, but it was a dry heat. All one had to worry about was sunburn. Here on this island, one had to worry about heatstroke and other problems. The Australian slammed his machete down on another coconut, opening the husk. After he carved it out, he stabbed it. Once he made sure he could get into the milk inside, he handed it off to Bernard. The old black man tilted it up and drank from it. “I am only doing this to stay hydrated.” Bernard smirked, “But it seems Tom Hanks was right. Coconut milk is indeed a natural laxative.”

“Oh, yeah, “ McKay laughed, “Great movie.”

“It’s a shame Underwood didn’t see it.” Bernard whispered.

“Yeah. If only he had listened to Tony, the crazy bastard might still be alive.”

“There are worse ways to die, I suppose. But none as less dignified.”

“Something tells me Underwood was not concerned about dignity,” McKay carved out another coconut and handed it to Taylor, “Always screaming to everybody that he was constipated.”

“Listen to us,” Bernard chuckled as he sat down, “We really shouldn’t speak badly about the dead.”

“Did you know Underwood?”

“Not really, no.”

“Then why shouldn’t we speak badly about them?”

“It’s not what God would wish.” Bernard said in all seriousness.

“I’ll take your word for it,.” McKay smirked, as he carved up another coconut.

“I take it you are not a religious man, Mr. McKay?” the old black man asked.

“No, I am. I just have my own beliefs, that’s all, mate.”

“McKay!” Tony called.

Before the two men could continue their conversation, the blind doctor was heading toward them. Tony was still a little pale but at least he was on his feet. He walked over to his Australian friend, coughing a bit. “Tony, you okay?” McKay asked, “I was just about to bring you a coconut.”

“I’m fine,” Tony pointed toward him, “Your watch still works, right?”

“Right. It’s . .uh . . .almost 6 pm.”

“John and the others are not back yet?”

“Not yet,” Bernard said for him.

“What about Seth and Brendon?” Tony asked worried, “if your calculations were correct, they should have been back by now.”

“Maybe they are not brisk walkers, Tony,” McKay said, “I wouldn’t worry just yet, and I have a good feeling John can keep the others safe.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, “Let’s hope so.”

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Seth and Brendon trekked through the jungle with as much haste as they could muster. The young man was a bit ashamed at being spooked by a young girl living on the island. But he knew it was strange and John told him he would see something strange. Seth then stopped abruptly as he pumped into Brendon. The young Asian man had stopped, and looked around. They had not seen a torn piece of cloth for over thirty minutes. “Admit it,” Seth grunted, “We’re lost.”

“All right, I admit it, we’re lost,” Brendon smiled, “But we’re making great time.”

“Smart ass.” Seth muttered.

“Look at it this way, my friend,” the Asian smiled, “All we have to do is make it to the beach. Then we can trace the shoreline toward our friends.”

“Make sense,” Seth wiped his sweat, “How far is the beach?”

“It’s should be up that way.” Brendon pointed.

The two friends continued their trek toward the massive amount of light up ahead. Seth wanted to stop regardless. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. Plus the fact they found some young girl leaving on the island. He couldn’t help but be concerned about it. “Dude, where do you think that girl came from?” he asked Brendon.

“If I had to take a guess, I would say France.” The Asian sighed.

“Why the hell are you being a smart ass all of sudden?” the young man grunted.

“Why the hell are you asking me questions I can’t answer?”

“We should have talked to her. Found out if she was alone.” Seth grunted.

“We don’t know anything about her. We don’t know who she is and we don’t know if she indeed alone. We’ll consult the others before we figure out what to do.”

“Fine, whatever,” Seth coughed.

Brendon finally pushed through the jungle and they arrived at the beach. The Asian man looked around and didn’t see anybody. It would seem that he and his talkative companion were indeed lost. Seth looked around and collapsed on his needs. He immediately took off his pack and pulled out a bottled water. He gulped it down like he had just come out of a desert.

Seth ventured forward into the beach, then looked to his right. He saw a familiar rock formation. It was wear most of them used the bathroom and where Underwood had died. “Seth, look!” Brendon pointed.

“Thank God,” Seth said, standing up. They were lost but not by much.

Seth and Brandon began their short march toward the formation and past it would be the encampments. They knew the people were in need of water. Seth hoisted his backpack up, then his left foot jerked, falling into the sand. Brendon turned around to see his friend grab a chuck of sand, and toss it up, cursing. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I slipped on something,” Seth mentioned.

“Slipped on what?”

Seth leaned forward and looked at what he was stepping on. It was a small collection of blue, grey and red. He reached into the sand and pulled out the object. As the sand fell away, it’s recognition was all too clear. “A Time Magazine?” Brendon asked.

“Yeah, “Seth looked it over, “It’s . . uh . . talking about the fall of the Berlin Wall.”

Brendon blinked, “That’s over 16 years ago.”

“Right. It says 1989 on the cover here.” Seth pointed.

“What is a 16 year old magazine doing buried on the beach?”

“For that fact, what is a young French chick doing on this island?” Seth retorted.

“Come,” Brendon shifted over,” We must tell them all of this.”