Page 17 of Murder Island
“We need shelter,” she said, clapping her hands together.
“Hold on. We’re actually staying here?”
“Why not?”
“Because this whole island could be underwater tomorrow.”
Kira slapped me on the shoulder. “Then live for the moment!” I hadn’t seen her this cheerful in a while—maybe ever.
She ran back to the dinghy and pulled out a supply bag. I didn’t even know she’d packed it. She dumped the contents out on the sand. A survival knife, flint, some parachute cord, and a piece of canvas about ten feet square.
“Is this our roof?” I asked, lifting a corner.
“Our floor. Unless you want sand fleas in your shorts.”
Kira started cutting off sections of cord. She tied two long ends to a couple of the palm trees, about five feet off the ground, then stretched the other ends out and tied them to the branches on two low bushes.
“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “Do what I do.” She tossed me a bunch of cord. I watched as she made a cross-laced pattern between the two long lengths. Then she started gathering palm fronds from the ground and weaving them through the lattice. I got to work, but I was all thumbs.
“Weren’t you ever in the Boy Scouts?” Kira asked.
“Sorry.”
“Of course. I forgot. You went to science camp.”
In about ten minutes, we had a substantial lean-to with a canvas sleep mat. I realized that Kira had angled the structure so that the opening faced west. We slipped inside and lay down on our backs, propped up on our elbows. The scene outside looked like paradise. TheAlbatrossbobbed on the waves in the distance, and the sun was a burnt-orange ball on the horizon.
“It doesn’t get any better than this,” said Kira.
I rolled toward her and kissed her. She kissed me back. I felt her hands on my belt.
She smiled at me. “Or maybe it does.”
CHAPTER 18
THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up to the sound of kids laughing.
At first I thought I was dreaming, but when I opened my eyes, I could see shapes through the gaps in the fronds. Small bodies moving. Fingers poking. And then, a set of brown eyes peeking through an opening.
More laughing.
I realized that Kira and I were both bare-ass naked. Maybe that’s what was so damned amusing.
I shook her. “Company,” I whispered.
Kira sat straight up. She already had the knife in her hand. She looked alert and ready to fight.
I turned toward the opening of the lean-to. Faces were peeking in from both edges. I counted six skinny brown-skinned boys, maybe ten or eleven years old, grinning like crazy and nudging each other as they stared.
Kira grabbed her clothes and covered herself. “Hey!”she shouted, waving the knife. A couple of the boys covered their eyes and turned away. One of them made wild circling gestures over his scalp. He was making fun of Kira’s curly hair.
I pulled on my pants and crawled out of the shelter on my hands and knees. The kids scattered and regrouped about ten yards away, still laughing. They all wore baggy cargo shorts and torn white T-shirts.
When I stood up to my full height, the laughing stopped. A few of the boys started backing away toward the shoreline. That’s when I saw a couple of outrigger canoes sitting next to our dinghy.
Kira emerged from the shelter. She glanced at the crude boats, then stuck her knife under her belt.
“Relax, Doc, they’re not here to kill us.” She waved to the boys. “They just came to fish.”