Tsunami

"And the cure?" She asked.

"Two large syringes filled with penicillin," I said visibly wincing at the memory.

"Why two?" She inquired.

"I asked the nurse that same question. She said, if we give it to you in one hip, you wouldn't be able to walk, and then plunged both to the bone."

"Holy shit! That must have hurt!" She exclaimed while laughing.

"You bet your ass it did! And the nurse was right. I could barely walk as it was!" I said with conviction.

Lifting the bottle in the air, as in a toast, Crystal said, "Here's to the memory of good, old Francesca and her parting gifts," and took another long drink.

As far as drinking is concerned, it was becoming quite apparent that Crystal was a lightweight. Slurring her words, she toasted me, the pots and pans, the shelter, all the little fishes and just about everything in sight. I let her drink her fill, knowing wine hangovers are brutal, and I would be needed later. It wasn't long before she passed out, drunk off her ass.

I corked the bottle, and while she slept, made the short trek around the peninsula and returned with four coconuts. Spearing a couple of fish, I prepared our dinner: baked fish, coconut meat, fresh fruit and coconut milk.

It was dark when Crystal stirred, moaning, "Royce, this is all your fault. I think I'm going to die!"

"No, most people aren't that lucky. You'll have to suffer like the rest of us. You need to eat something, even just a little will make you feel better. I have coconut milk, and I know that will help."

Sitting next to her, I pulled her upper body across my lap and held her against my chest with one arm. I wet two fingers in the can of milk, and moistened her lips. Her eyes fluttered open, and she raised to a more upright position, cupping her hands around mine as I touched the can to her lips, offering a more substantial drink. Slowly at first, with tiny sips, she started to revive.

Fixing her eyes on mine, she asked, "What would I ever do without you?"

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing. Can you sit on your own?" I asked.

"I think so," she replied. Struggling to an upright position, Crystal rested her forehead on her arms atop her knees, while groaning, "What was in that wine?"

"Alcohol, silly. Those Spaniards really know how to make that shit. If there's another war, it may be their secret weapon!" I answered.

Crystal gave a short chuckle and said, "Death by hangover, those hideous bastards!"

I placed the eating tray, holding our meal, across my lap and urged her to eat. Although she didn't eat much, she did eat. Afterward, I suggested she lie down and sleep it off. I covered her with the survival blanket, and within moments, she was fast asleep.

Not wanting to disturb her, I grabbed the wine bottle, and walked to our favorite sitting spot. Reclining against the log, I uncorked the bottle and sipped at its contents. The cooler night air was a welcoming relief from the scorching sun.

The soft sounds of rolling surf against the shoreline and the stars shown in all their magnificent brilliance, but the tumultuous thoughts racing through my mind prevented me from relaxing.

Six days we were on this accursed island, and not one passing ship. I had hoped something would have sailed by. Although, luck has provided us with food and water, the isolation will play a major part in degrading our willingness to continue later.

The icing on the cake would be Crystal is or gets pregnant! Her birth control pills are long gone, somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, and the responsibility of caring for an infant under these conditions would be difficult at best.

I rubbed my eyes in an effort to push the depressing thoughts away, and took a last long pull from the bottle. As I corked the empty bottle, I caught a glimpse of light, low to the water, and stood to get a better view.

A curtain of darkness surrounded this solitary point of light, and trying to keep my wits about me, I needed to find out if it was moving. I quickly stabbed two sticks upright into the sand, and as I looked across the tips, it slowly moved from right to left. It was a ship!

I ran to the shelter screaming, "A ship! It's a ship! Crystal wake up! There's a ship on the horizon!"

Crystal woke with a start, momentarily confused, but quickly shook loose cobwebs and asked, "Where?"

"There," I said pointing.

She laid her head on my shoulder and looked down the length of my arm and exclaimed, "I see it! What do we do?"

"Light the signal towers!" I said excitedly.

Adrenaline crashed through my body, my hands were shaking as I opened the backpack. Grabbing the butane lighter and bag of cotton balls, we ran to the nearest tower.

Reaching our destination, I fell to my knees and stuffed a couple of cotton balls into the bottom of the tender cradle. I had to take a couple of deep breaths, forcing myself to relax, before striking the lighter to life. The signal tower was soon burning brightly, and we ran to the second one, repeating the process.

Now, the agony of waiting.

I ran back to the sticks to check on the ship's movement. Seconds turned into minutes and hope turned to despair, as it slowly continued on its course.

"Doesn't it see us?" Crystal asked, disappointed.

"There's no indication it has," I responded flatly.

My heart nearly broke, as Crystal buckled and fell to the sand, crying quietly. I felt like joining her, when abruptly, a bright light streaked into the sky.

"Look! It's a flare! They've seen us!" I shouted triumphantly.

Crystal, now with tears of joy, jumped to her feet and exclaimed, "Oh my God! You did it Royce! You saved us!"

Without a chance to respond, she rushed into my arms, covering my face with kisses and professing her undying love. Her excitement was infectious, and like Native Americans, we leapt for joy, shouting and dancing in the sand.

"How long before they get here?" Crystal asked.

"It all depends on how they attempt the rescue. If they turn the ship around, and steam closer, it may take a while. If they launch a small craft from their present position, within the hour," I answered.

Crystal said, eyes wide with excitement, "We need to get ready to leave. What should we take?"

"There's nothing here that would be of use to us, except for your pouch of personal items, and maybe our clothes," I said smiling.

It was evident by the look on her face, she had forgotten we were naked, and said through her laughter, "Oh, yeah. Clothes may be a good idea. Although, I kind of liked the freedom we've enjoyed here on the island."

"Maybe we should consider a nudist survival camp," I teased.

"No way! You'd enjoy all the naked women, maybe a little too much!" She said quickly.

"No argument there, but I'll miss seeing you this way," I said in a pouty voice.

"You can see me this way, any time you like, as long as it's in private," she answered, and then continued, "Let's get dressed."

Approximately four hours later, we were safely aboard an Australian cargo ship bound for its home port of Sydney. The captain made his excuses for the lack of accommodations and explained we would have to share a cabin for the duration of the trip.

"I think I could tolerate her for a few more days, but only a few," I said with a grin. The captain chuckled at my remark as Crystal smacked me on the shoulder. He ordered a crewman to show us to the galley, have the cook prepare us a quick meal, and afterward, take us to our quarters.

After a week of eating nothing but fish, grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with a bowl of potato soup never tasted so good. While we ate, the crewman disappeared, and about the time we finished, reappeared with clean jumpsuits and fresh towels. We thanked the cook and were led to our cabin.

The room was no larger than 8 by 9 with a wall locker, desk, stool, and a three-quarter bed. He laid the jumpsuits and towels on the bed and asked if there was anything else.

"Is there a bathroom?" Crystal asked.

Pointing, he said, "Behind that door," and abruptly left.

"I'm beginning to think we kicked somebody out of their own cabin," I said as I opened the narrow door, and then added, "If you think our cabin is tiny, take a look at this." In no larger than a small closet, there was a shower stall, toilet and sink.

"Wow, talk about conserving space. There's not enough room for both of us, so, if it's okay with you, I'll go first," Crystal said as she removed her clothes.

"No problem, but remember to save me some hot water," I said and then added, "I can wash your back, if I stand in the toilet!"

Crystal chuckled and stepped into the shower, exclaiming, "Oh look, there are sample bottles of body wash and shampoo!"

She finished quickly and I immediately followed. As I stepped from the tiny bathroom, I commented, "Well, it's not the Ritz, but much better than our last accommodations."

Crystal was in bed, blanket folded back, and waiting for me. I crawled into bed, pulled her naked body tight to mine and kissed her.

"You must be exhausted," she said softly, and then added, "It must be near morning, and you've had no sleep at all. Besides, after that shower, this bed feels like heaven. Rest here in my arms, we are safe, and ease your troubled mind." I barely remember her last words as I tumbled into blissful nothingness.

We quickly acclimated ourselves to the ship's routine. We ate with the officers and talked and played cards with the crew. Crystal, receiving most of the attention, obviously enjoyed herself. Once in Sydney, the American consulate notified next of kin, re-issued passports and arranged for our flight back home.

Dad's brother, Uncle Ron, drove us the short distance from the local airport. It seems as though the whole town turned out for our arrival, people were lining the streets holding banners, welcoming us home.

Local newspaper and television reporters flooded the front lawn with the usual insensitive barrage of questions: Are you happy to be back, what was it like on the island, how did you survive, what are your plans, and the most offensive, how are you dealing with the loss of your parents?

I stopped on the front steps and turning to face the reporters with their flashing cameras, said, "How do you think we feel? Awful, shattered, heartbroken; these words don't even begin to describe our feelings. I buried our mother on that godforsaken island, and the sea took our father. Life without them will never be the same. Now, get the fuck off our lawn." The ensuing silence could've been cut with a knife as we walked into the house.

Chuckling, Uncle Ron said, "Bravo! I couldn't have said that better myself."

Aunt Rose, with the help of others, had prepared a lavish meal and we all ate to our hearts' content. Understandably, they were all curious about what Crystal and I had suffered. Not wanting to continually retell the story, I figured I would take advantage of the opportunity, and asked that they all gather around and listen to our unfortunate experience.

Early that afternoon, after all the condolences, hugs and well-wishes, Crystal and I found ourselves alone, and not wanting to stay in a house with so many memories. We hastily packed a few belongings, cleaned out my bank account, and then drove to a motel in the next town.

I called Uncle Ron, letting him know our whereabouts and our intentions about selling the house and business. My next call was to Dad's lawyer, making an appointment the next day.

That night, lying naked on the bed, eating pizza and drinking beer, Crystal and I surfed the web for country properties. "I think we should find something down south," Crystal mumbled, her mouth full of pizza.

"Excellent idea! I hear there are fewer legal repercussions for incest in the southern states. It's just one big family!" I said, crossing my eyes.

Crystal exploded in laughter, spitting pizza all over the keyboard. When she caught her breath, she said, "That's hilarious. Although, statistically, not true."

"And how would you know that?" I asked, cleaning the keyboard.

"Believe it or not, that subject was brought up in my behavioral science class. The truth is, it happens everywhere, all the time," and then smiling seductively, added, "Maybe even here." And thus ended the web browsing for the night.

The lawyer was a chubby, short man. He reminded me of a favorite teacher I once had, great personality and sharp mind. The phone conversation the day before had set the wheels in motion, and he had prepared a large package of legal documents for our review and signatures.

"The majority of these documents, under your father's instructions, have been prepared for years. It's all in a trust fund: title to the house, personal property and belongings, bank accounts, transfer of ownership for the business, including stocks and bonds. I estimate its net worth to be somewhere near $7.3 million," he said in an astute business manner.

Shock may be a mild term to describe the look on our faces. Neither she nor I expected this kind of extravagant windfall. Although, we knew our parents never lacked financially, their somewhat modest lifestyle betrayed the fact of their true wealth.

Afterward, Crystal and I sat in the truck trying to wrap our minds around what just happened. Our options had expanded radically, offering unexplored opportunities not yet considered.

Breaking the silence, Crystal stated, "You know what this means."

"Yes, we need a financial advisor," I answered flatly.

Crystal chuckled, and said, "I agree. It also means we can do just about anything we want."

"Let's stop for a moment and think. Mom and Dad did not amass this fortune by spending their money frivolously. Did they own a nice house? Yes. Was it a mansion? No. How many times do you remember them taking trips? Twice as far as I can remember, including this last one. Both Mom and Dad worked at the business, do you think they needed to? They taught us both good work ethics as teenagers: you baby sat for extra cash, and I worked with the forestry preserve; they didn't just hand us money. What do you think they'd want us to do?" I asked.

"That's simple," Crystal quickly answered and then continued, "Open a viable business to make ourselves a living, work hard to see that it succeeds, and with the rest, invest wisely for a secure future."

"Bingo," I said, and then adding, "we stick to our original plan."

End Chapter One.