Shipwrecked - Chapter 136: Prodigal Sons and Daughters (nosex)

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Chapter 136: Prodigal Sons and Daughters

The morning of October 21st brought the rains I'd expected based on the clouds I'd seen the day before, and I woke in the chilly grey hours to the sounds of heavy drops pounding on the shelter roof. I stirred quickly and pulled out of the bed so as not to wake the others. Bailey was already out of the bedroom and Katie was not in her crib. Amy was curled up with Azure, Keekah and Kate snuggled beside her, still snoring lightly.

It was cool enough to wear clothing, so I quietly slipped into a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt before stepping out of the shelter to greet the day. It was raining too hard for the cook fire to be roused, but I could smell that someone had started a smaller one in the common room, so instead of heading out into the downpour, I crept back through our shelter and went to see if I could help with breakfast.

Manu and Amu were seated around the small cook fire built into a corner by the door, a pot steaming over top. Bailey was nursing Katie nearby, Tila and Tika sleeping on mattresses near the back of the room. Those awake smiled at me and offered me a cup of coffee which was poured from a black kettle. I sat down and let the strong, wonderful bitter fluid fill me with warmth and alertness.

Bailey leaned against me and I held her in silence for a while.

Manu said, “I understand that Hunamu and Popko are in favor of accepting the others here with us.”

I nodded, “They are, yes.”

“So,” she continued, “I believe that finds the majority in favor?”

“Also true.”

She seemed to sense the hesitation in my words. “You do not like this, I think.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn't say that, exactly.” I stroked Bailey's hair over her shoulder. “I just worry about the changes this brings. What it means for us. We've been a family so far. I feel... I feel that we're about to become too big for that to apply to everyone living here, and I worry that it means we are big enough to have serious disagreements and that those who join us will only be the first of many who will seek to live here. Once we open that door, Manu... it will be hard to close it. I worry about what that means for those of us here now.”

She nodded but did not reply.

Amu spoke up. “I, too, understand this feeling. But, I ask that you remain open minded.” The man was very soft-spoken. He rarely commented or talked in conversations, at least not where I heard him. He tended to be very reserved and introverted, but when he did say something, he often showed that he was both intelligent and thoughtful. “We cannot avoid change, Kal. But we can manage it and prepare for it. It seems inevitable that others will come here to live. They will do so whether we bless it or not. What we can do, then, is ensure we meet this challenge with our strengths and, in doing so, we make sure the changes made are ones we can accept and control.”

“Well said, Amu.” I let out a slow breath. “I suppose it might not be all bad. More people here might be good for us in the long run. It makes it easier to handle someone being sick or injured, and... should we ever need to defend ourselves... it means more hands able to fight back.”

“Exactly,” Amu replied, dipping a long-handled wooden spoon into the cooking pot and sampling the broth, “and it means more people we may convince of the correctness of our choices here. I do not mean we should force those joining us to hold our views, only that we can demonstrate that we have built a solid foundation for a society whose ways are... unconventional to those not living here. We will be challenged, in the future, by other societies who do not accept what we do here. But the more who do, the more who see we can be moral and just and happy in our ways, the better we defend ourselves in the battle of ideas.”

I smiled. Amu's thoughts made me wish he shared them more often. He was much wiser than I'd given him credit for. “Then I accept those terms. I'll welcome these changes so long as we are prepared. Amy's idea about laying out rules and expectations should begin in earnest, I think.”

“Already have,” Amy's voice called from behind me. I turned to see her carrying Azure against her chest, feeding the infant from her breast as she strode over and sat next to me. I kissed her lips and offered her coffee from my cup which she declined.

“Already have?” Bailey asked.

“Well,” Amy said, shifting Azure slightly and uncovering her other breast, Amy's swollen tits full and her nipples looking raw from the frequent feedings, “I've had nothing I could really do to help out around here since Azure was born, so I started trying to put together some ideas for what we could do. I've been doing a lot of reading, and thankfully, one of our books is a Political Science textbook which includes various government charter documents, including the US Constitution and others. I think that's where we start.”

Manu offered her a cup of warm broth and Amy accepted, taking a sip before continuing. “We define the sort of government we have, how it is chosen, and then we lay out the very basic rules and how they are interpreted. We make it amendable, and we include rules for how to do that. I've already got a basic draft of some of it, but... obviously, this is something we need to do a lot to talk out. I just wanted to have something to work from even if the details aren't kept.”

I shook my head, smiling, “You really are amazing, Amy. You could have justifiably spent the last week sleeping and resting, and instead, here you are, playing the part of a Founding Mother for our new, great nation.” That drew a laugh. “Seriously, though, this is great.”

She grinned. “Thanks. I think we should do a sort of Constitutional Convention in the evenings. We work out the details, then refine those, then try to break them and see where it fails, and when we're done, we'll have the basic framework laid out for how to deal with our newcomers, as well as ourselves. I mean... Let's be honest, Kal. The more people who come here, the more likely we are to deal with thieves, or rapists, or... you know, violence.”

I nodded, then cringed, hating the idea that she spoke truth. We'd avoided those serious issues for so long only through a sort of luck-of-the-draw in those who had come to live on the island, a common need to survive and get along bringing us to find consensus on almost every issue. That would change the more people, the more backgrounds and experiences and viewpoints introduced to our lives. We could no longer take for granted that we would be surrounded by those who hold our common good as the most sincere, deeply-held belief. Opportunists, users and abusers, and malcontents were bound to make their way to the island, and it was vital to be prepared for those situations however possible.

“Then I propose our first order of business,” I suggested, “is to appoint Amy as the head of our Transition team. She's already doing the job, but she'll surely need help getting this all together so that we can make the discussions most efficient and effective.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bailey replied.

“I'll ask everyone else, to be sure, but I don't think there will be any push back.” I smiled at Amy. “What can we do to help?”

“Nothing yet. Well,” she added, “if someone could help me search through the books to see if there is anything else which we could use to help our decisions. I can't really do much bending over or lifting the bins right now.”

“I'll be glad to assist,” I suggested. I glanced out the open door to where the rain was pouring down. “Doesn't look like much will get done outdoors today, seems like a good time to find something useful to do inside.”

- - -

The rest of the day and the next went by quickly. The rain was steady, sometimes blowing in sheets as the wind picked up, but there were no thunderclaps or lightning, just a heavy Spring rain which would be great for the crops.

I found a couple of history books in our collection which could aid Amy's work, and she and I talked at length about various ideas for the starter template she was writing. What sort of government was best for us? What about ownership of private property, or shared resources? What do we do about rule-breakers? We didn't really have answers to most of those questions, and that was really the point: to identify the areas we most needed to discuss at length.

I was starting to grow excited, as well, knowing that Gale and Tok would be returning soon with Kunomo, Nina, Hakee, and Kylana. I loved that our old friends would coming back to live with us again. I missed them greatly over their time away, and I especially missed the friendship I'd developed with Tok. I'd never connected with Amu or the younger men on the island the way I had with Tok. I'd come to recognize how much I needed a close male friend in my life. I'm not sure why that mattered or was different from the many close friendships I had with my wives, but I felt sure that Tok's companionship was vital in my own happiness.

The boat could have returned as early as the 22st, but by the time we settled in that the night, they had not arrived. It seemed likely the rain had delayed them, and their expected arrival window had included the 23nd, anyway. I'd briefly tried to raise the Uhonamonans on the radio, but no one had responded.

The next day, the 24th, came in in clear and cool, but there was still no sign of our returning friends. I managed to raise Uhonamona that evening. With Tila translating, they let us know the boat had left on the morning of the 21st with all aboard, and they had not heard from then since.

A stiff knot formed in my stomach. Sure, it could sometimes take that long to arrive from Uhonamona, especially considering the winds and rain they were battling on the seas, but I couldn't help worry about my friends. I barely slept that night.

The 25th arrived and we went about our chores to try to catch up from the days lost to rain. There was some cleanup around the shelters and the small gardens near camp, and part of the stream bed had broken free of its boundaries and washed away part of the walls formed, causing most of the heavy water flow to empty out into the swampy area to the West of our tree farm. I worked with Amu and Manu, along with Poln and Mie, to shore up the channel, and by early afternoon, we had the stream running full and true. Still, dread continued to grow stronger, and I was almost nauseous by the time supper was ready. I sipped broth, but felt unable to commit anything more solid to my queasy stomach.

Three more days passed and everyone in camp was anxious. It was obvious that something bad had happened. Another quick call with the Uhonamonans confirmed they had not seen nor heard anything of the others. I tried to hide how strongly I feared for those now missing, forcing smiles and reassuring words when Amy or Bailey or the others let show their concerns. I kept everyone moving and focused on the necessary work to be done, and tried my best to keep my game face in place. Still, I ate little, and slept less as the sinking sensation grew deeper and more real.

- - -

By the 29th, I began to accept the loss. Well, 'accept' is the wrong word. I began, I think, to let the reality settle in. We'd lost our friends and it was unlikely we'd even have an explanation. There'd been no sign of the boat, or the people on it. Our short-wave radios didn't have the ability to use the frequencies on the boat's radio, and that just added to the frustrating hollowness I felt.

We were all a bit in shock, I think, but no tears fell. It was not that we didn't feel them coming. I know I did several times as the losses sank in. But there was no finality, no resolution. We simply didn't know what happened to them. It would have been awful to find out the details of why they were gone, but at least there would have been closure. We could have mourned. But with no word and no sign of our friends, the anguish was left hanging, open-ended and raw. It felt very surreal.

That night, when I did find sleep, my dreams were filled with fear. I relived the explosion of the washed-up container from the cruise ship. It wasn't that I remembered and experienced again the actual explosion. I remembered the moments just before it, colored now with an understanding of what would come. I watched the man turn that latch and stare into the container just before a black hole in my memory led, eventually, to pain and confusion.

I dreamed of being in an empty room, alone, restrained. I screamed and kicked against the door. My dream became intense, claustrophobia crushing me and making my breathing desperate and wild. I screamed and pleaded, but no one came.

The dream shifted to one of fire. I watched, helplessly, drifting over a scene of people I loved trapped in a room, their screams drowning my own. Angry red flames closed in on them as smoke filled their lungs and they struggled to breathe. I saw Bailey and Amy holding their children against them, trying desperately to protect them from the inevitable. The helplessness I felt in that dream was unlike any I'd ever experienced. It was simply horrifying.

I woke with a start, drenched in sweat, shaking. My eyes darted around me in the dark. I wasn't alone, my wives all cuddled together with me on the mattresses. I rose slowly to ensure Katie and Azure were all there. Sure they were fine, I wandered into the common room, still anxious and feeling the horror of what I'd dreamed. Tika and Tila were sleeping together, and a quick check of the other shelters confirmed that all those expected to be in camp were present.

I let out a sigh, but the relief I felt at finding everyone accounted for was quickly replaced by the understanding that we'd lost Gale, Tok, Nina, Hakee, Kylana, and Kunomo. I sank down to my knees in the common room doorway and let the tears fall freely.

At some point, the crying slowed and stopped. It wasn't that I felt any better or any less sad. Slowly, I got to my feet and ran down to the surf naked, quickly rushing into the dark water and sinking to my neck, letting the Ocean wash over me.

I couldn't help remembering good times with my friends, those memories all I had left of them. I recalled intimate moments, frank and honest conversations, soccer matches and good meals and sexual play. I tried to live in those happy moments and put off, at least for a while, the horrifying reality that had taken those good souls from my life.

Above the rushing surf and the light whoosh of the breeze over top, I heard a muffled boom as if the wind had barely kept the sound together long enough to bring it to my ears from over the horizon. It was almost like a thunderclap, but singular, without reverb or echo. It stood out as a solid molecule in a swishing, swirling barrel of liquid. There, and then gone quickly. It meant nothing to me and I quickly forgot I'd heard it.

I stayed in the warm water for some time, unable or unwilling to draw myself out and, symbolically, face the reality I was trying to drown out.

“Kal?” Kate's voice called out from the shore. In the dark night, it was nearly impossible to see her, and, I knew, for her to see me. While the stars overhead offered dim luminescence which took the edge off of complete blackness, there was no moon in the sky to add a more useful source of light.

“Here,” I replied weakly. “I'm in the water.”

I heard splashing then was able to make out Kate's silhouette as she moved closer.

“You okay?” she asked, concern in her voice, as she slid an arm over my shoulder.

“No,” was all I could reply, my voice a whisper, scratchy.

Kate wrapped her arms around me and I started to cry again. She held me tight as the waves broke over our shoulders, my tears added to the salty water. Kate was crying, as well, and we really didn't need to speak about what was going on to understand each other's pain.

When the tears slowed a bit, Kate whispered, “I'm so sorry, Kal... They are really gone, aren't the?”

“I think so,” my voice trembled, “otherwise... we'd have heard something by now...”

I felt her nod against my neck.

After a long silence, Kate whimpered, “This sucks.”

There wasn't really anything to say in reply. She was right. It sucked. It was so unfair. Things had been going so well, so much progress, so close to having Gale and Tok back with us for good. I'd lost Nina again, and my dear friends Hakee and Kylana, as well. Losing any one of those friends would have been horrible, but to lose them all was overwhelming in a way which left me feeling hopeless.

- - -

Neither of us had felt like going to bed by the time we finally left the water. Instead, we numbly slipped on clothing and got the cook fire going outside. I pulled out the leftover stew from the night before and set it over the flames to start warming, then put on a pot of hot water for coffee. For a moment, I considered rolling up a joint, but that just made me think of the times I'd shared one with Tok and Gale, and the loss hit me hard enough to cause me to sink to my knees.

Mechanically, we went about refreshing the stew, as well as putting on a smaller kettle to make porridge. A couple of hours passed with few words said between Kate and I. It was hard not to break down and cry again.

“Kal...” Kate broke into the dark silence. “There's a light on the horizon...”

My eyes shot up towards where she pointed. I blinked a couple of times, the shimmering light dull and distant. It could have been the reflection of a star for its clarity.

But over a few minutes of observation, it was clearly a light on a vessel of some sort. Once that sank in, I felt my stomach jump with hope. For a moment, I felt like maybe, just maybe, our friends had finally made it home, against all odds.

Then I remembered the other possibility: it might have not been our friends bringing a boat closer to our island. I had to rouse the others and prepare for our defense.

We had drilled this sort of moment many times. Each person had roles and responsibilities, though we were missing a lot of our key people. Kate ran off to wake the others and set them in motion. I rushed to get our armaments out of their storage.

We had a few of our guns stored in the shelters for quick access, but the bulk of our weapons were in a couple of places. We had some in the main storage, easily grabbed from just inside, others were stashed in dry crates near each of the four defensive bunkers we'd constructed weeks earlier.

Kate had Bailey, Amy, and Keekah in the common shelter with the young children, readying packs in case we had to leave the beach and head for the cave. Poln was already sprinting North to inform Popko and Hunamu after they'd been unable to raise them on the short-wave.

I did a quick head count. With three North for the moment, two mothers and a mother-to-be in the common shelter, that left me, Kate, Tila, Tika, Manu, Amu, and Mie for the defenses. We were too few to man all the bunkers, so I broke us into two groups and got each group headed to close-in bunkers just beyond the shelters. I took Kate, Tila, and Tika with me to the Westernmost defense, the one positioned closest to where the boat was heading towards us. If there was a positive to those stressful, frightening moments, at least my sadness was pushed aside for a time.

There was little to do but wait. I held the grips nervously. I had to remind myself, Nina's voice in my head saying it for me, to keep my finger from the trigger. It was too easy for a twitchy digit to send a round down range, as she put it. Only when I wanted to shoot someone should I let my index finger find that cold steel with the barrel pointed at my target.

It was unnerving watching the dim light grow brighter as the boat grew closer. It was much too dark to tell anything about who or what was approaching. There was no conversation, only the sounds of our anxious respiration and the whoosh of the wind blowing over the defensive structure. The way the breeze ran around the gun barrels sometimes made the ominous whistles the only real soundtrack to our frightful experience.

Bailey rushed up to our bunker some time after we'd settled in to let us know that she'd been monitoring the short-wave and Poln had arrived in record time in the North. Popko and Hunamu were on their way South with him to aid in our defense. Bailey gave me and Kate quick kisses, then rushed back to the shelters. I doubted the young men would get to camp before the boat was in range to drop off its passengers, but I was glad to know they were on the way.

It wasn't long before the boat got close enough to see a strong reflection of the running lights in the dark water in front of it. Still, it was only as it raced to within half a kilometer or so that we got any sense of the boat's size. It was in the same general magnitude of our main boat, the one Nina had captained on their way South, but there was no immediate way to see if it was them.

The boat turned to the East slightly and slowed near the place where we knew there were shallows, many parts covered in treacherous oyster beds. I felt a glimmer of hope at that understanding. It could have been chance that a stranger pulled up short at a dangerous feature like that in the dark, but it seemed more likely an experienced captain who might know this shoreline.

The boat idled a moment, rocking on the waves before moving slowly East a few minutes and then turning back towards the island. The vessel crept closer, the engine noise growing louder as it approached. We stayed in place as it moved carefully down the area in front of camp which we'd come to call 'The Channel,' a place of safe approach which allowed boats to get to within a couple hundred yards of the shore. If this wasn't someone who knew this place, it would have been an extraordinary bit of luck that the captain so quickly found a safe path to us.

Still, we waited. I let faint hope smolder, unwilling to let it do more, still full of fear and uncertain what would happen next.

The boat reached the general spot of closest approach and stopped, then its spotlight began to swivel around to point at the camp. I ducked instinctively. If it wasn't friendlies approaching, I didn't want us to give away our position just yet.

“Anyone awake?” a female voice called out as if in a long tunnel. The voice was familiar. “Phoenicians?”

“Nina,” I whispered quietly, unable to believe so quickly.

“Nina!” Kate exclaimed, setting her rifle aside and jumping out of the bunker.

I stood, my knees creaking and shaky. I was trembling. I don't recall what was going through my head. I felt elation and nausea all at once. Could it really be Nina? And then I wondered if everyone else was safe, if they had made it through whatever horrible thing had kept them from us for so many days. I felt a mix of joy and trepidation, afraid that the wonderful return of Nina might also bring to us the loss of someone else.

Finally, I moved after what was probably only thirty seconds but which felt like hours, and started to run down to where Kate was up to her waist in the water despite her clothing.

“Oh, Nina! Oh, Nina!” Kate yelled out, “it really is you!”

“Kate!”

I jumped out into the water and rushed to Kate's side as we made our way out to where we could just barely touch, some distance still from where the boat was dropping its anchor. We started to swim rapidly and quickly reached the vessel. A rope ladder was thrown over the side, and I climbed up first. Nina met me with one arm in a sling. She ignored my concerned eyes and wrapped her good arm around me. I nearly crushed her with my own hug.

“The others? Nina, where are the others?”

She was hugging Kate suddenly. “They're here. Everyone's okay. We're okay. They're all below getting things together.”

“What happened? You're days late!” I couldn't help the excitement which filled my throat and made my voice crack.

“Very long story.” Nina sounded drained suddenly. “And I need to get this arm looked at soon.”

I nodded a moment without speaking, steeling my nerves and feeling calm for the first time in days, then I said, “Okay. What can we do to help?”

“Get the rowboat set out and help bring up the things from below. I'm going to leave the boat here tonight. We're a bit... exhausted.”

- - -

A whirlwind of hugs and brief tears and relieved concerns followed. Tok had a bandage around his neck, but otherwise, everyone was okay. I didn't ask for details, trying to focus on getting us all back on shore.

Others from camp helped us transport the crates and sacks and assorted belongings back to camp. It was dawn by the time we finished.

I think we were all emotionally spent. Even amidst the happy tears and the heartfelt relief, it was hard to put in perspective the tremendous differences in our expectations. Just hours before, we knew we'd lost our friends and had begun the horrible grieving. Then a moment of hope gave way to dread as we readied ourselves to be attacked. And then, the improbable happened and our friends returned to us, more or less okay. It was more than I could handle, and my emotional energy drained, I tried to simply go about things without letting anything more than a gently-bubbling happiness take root.

Manu worked on Nina for over an hour. It was a gunshot wound and she still had the bullet in her upper arm. It had torn through muscle and was stopped by the bone. Manu thought it was likely a small fracture, at minimum, but it seemed no major damage was done. It was also incredibly lucky that the bullet had not shattered and exploded within Nina's arm.

Despite his tiredness, Tok told us the story of what had happened to them on their trip home. Rather than retell what he said to us, I'll include here Tok's firsthand description which he wrote down some time later in a journal.

- - -

We left Uhonamona on the morning of the 21st and headed straight towards Phoenix. We slowed our engines as normal during the night time but kept up a gradual movement across the water. Around dawn the next morning, the 22nd, Nina spotted a reflection on the horizon in the general direction of our heading and we slowed further. Using binoculars, I confirmed it was a boat and there seemed to be two others hovering just beyond the horizon. I could barely make out the tops when the waves moved just right.

We decided we had to get away. As soon as we came about and pointed South again, not rushing away but slowly moving and hoping to avoid notice, the nearest boat fired its engines and headed our way. Nina opened up our motor and we tried to outrun the boat South, heading back towards Uhonamona.

It was like being hunted. Our boats were fairly evenly matched, and over the span of a couple of hours, we could not lose the closest boat. If the other two followed, we could not tell at that time.

Then the rain started in earnest and it allowed us to lose ourselves. Nina changed direction and headed West for an hour, then Northwest, hoping we could move around our pursuers in the rain.

It seemed to work, and near nightfall, we slowed our speed and cut our lights, idling back towards Phoenix in the dark, cold rain. One of us kept watch at all times.

In the morning, the rain still falling, we felt like we'd gotten away and opened up the engines again. The waves grew very choppy as the winds picked up, and it was several long, anxious hours before the seas became calmer and Nina could yield the captain's chair to get some rest.

It was during the early evening hours, just as some patches of sun started to clear, that we spotted boats again, this time to our Northeast. While Hakee woke Nina, I set us quickly towards the West. As darkness fell, we cut our lights and slowed for a while before we spotted dull illumination just over the horizon to our East. It moved and seemed to follow our general direction, so we assumed it was the same boats again.

What followed was an anxious night. We didn't dare risk turning on our lights for fear of giving away our position, so we prayed that we wouldn't hit a shoal or a sandbar in the darkness. The boat lights would grow closer then stop, perhaps listening for our engines, and when they grew closer again, we'd be forced to open up our motor and race further West and South, trying to lose our pursuers. When we again idled and waited, it wasn't long before we spotted the lights on the horizon and were forced to rush off once more.

This continued until just before dawn. We hadn't seen our pursuers for almost two hours, but we had already learned the hard way that wasn't a sure sign they were gone. Even in the darkness, Hakee believed she was seeing the silhouette of land just to our South, and we made the decision to see if it might be a place we could hide our vessel.

We waited until there was just enough light to see and moved quickly. It was a small island, but we could position the boat on the West side and perhaps hide it from our pursuers. That assumed, of course, that they would come from the same general direction we'd just left, but it was all we had for a plan.

At first we didn't dare leave the boat in case we were again found and needed to escape quickly, so we anchored and waited. Then in became clear that something had fouled in the motor. I suspected it was our fuel or the fuel line as I listened to the motor sputter inconsistently, whether it was something clogging the line or an impurity in our gas, I didn't know. Either way, if it wasn't cleared up, we risked shutting down cold in the middle of a getaway. We had no choice but to try to get it fixed immediately.

It was impossible to check our fuel tank with the boat on the water, and we had nowhere to pull it up to a dry dock, so I had no choice but to try to rule out the fuel line, and if not that, then something in the motor itself.

Nina and Hakee went ashore to keep watch since our view of the East was hidden from the boat. I had a few tools at my disposal, but it still took most of the day to test the fuel line and try to rule it out. It seemed it was clear, and the fuel I drew up from the tank through it seemed clean enough to my eyes and nose, so I was fairly certain we were dealing with something more difficult in the motor.

There was little to do but stay in place and pray that we were not spotted. We slept in shifts and I started to dissect the motor at first light. I cleaned and tested each suspect component, but I found nothing of note. By the end of that night, the 25th, I had ruled out most of what I could check easily.

I didn't have a bay or the right tools to do the job, and it had already taken a full day to get that far. The 26th was spent with us working carefully to remove and hold aside heavy parts of the motor, and by this point, each time we reassembled after checking some piece, it refused to crank. This was a significant setback for us.

The next day, I tested the electrical system, and it seemed, from my limited experience, all was well. The battery had plenty of charge, and the backup did nothing to suggest any specific issue. I had no idea if we'd broken something, had forgotten to reconnect something, or if we made the original problem worse than it was when I started investigating.

On the 28th, and for reasons I still cannot know, after reassembling the motor for the sixth time that day, it turned over and revved loudly. It ran smooth and clear, no sputtering, no signs of its previous issues. Whatever it was, we were anxious to get moving.

We'd been lucky and seen no sign of pursuers since finding the small island, and we were eager to keep it that way. We set out with several hours of sun available that day.

We had travelled some distance off course in our escape, and we knew it would be very late on the 28th or early on the 29th before we'd see Phoenix. It was a group decision to run hard overnight and try to get off the water as quickly as possible.

Just after midnight, we spotted lights over the horizon behind us. We ran wide open straight towards Phoenix at first, but then we realized we were leading them right to our home, so we again made a group decision to steer them from the island. Nina turned us Southwest, causing the pursing boat to gain on us quickly. The vessel was larger than ours, faster, and it was built to pursue with a sleek hull and loud, powerful motors sending volumes of spray out behind it.

Not only were they closing on us, we were starting to become concerned for our fuel level. Our boat's large tanks were made for days-long fishing expeditions, but we were pushing what was in our supply and soon, we'd be down to less than half-a-day in the final tank.

We had two choices. We could head for home and draw the pursuers there. Or we could sacrifice ourselves and head away. I would like to say it was easy to make the latter choice, but I admit feeling a great sadness to know I would never see Phoenix or its people again.

So we ran hard. Over the next twenty or thirty minutes, the boat came within shouting distance of our stern. We didn't even hear the machine gun at first, their motors were that loud. Something sharp slapped my neck and I reached my hand to the slicing sensation on my flesh. There was some blood there, but it wasn't much at first. That's when I realized Nina had been hit.

She was slumping, doubled over and holding her upper arm. I rushed over to grab the controls, and Hakee checked on Nina. There was blood on her sleeve and she was sucking in her breath in gasps and groans. I worried she might have been hit somewhere more vital.

Nina let us know through grunted teeth that it was just her arm, and I tried to stay calm as the boat opened up again. Dull thuds ripped down the hull but the bullets missed us on deck. I hoped those below were so fortunate. I yelled at Hakee to get Nina below and she did so quickly.

I had no time to really think about what might happen. All I could do was keep a tight grip on the controls and keep us pointed away from the people we loved on Phoenix. Those below might not survive, and maybe I'd already accepted my own death. I don't know. All I remember was how I clamped down on the wheel and tried my best to hit the sweetest spots in the swells.

That's when I heard their motors hesitate. It was a brief skip in the roar, but seconds later, it happened again. I turned my head as it began to sputter and the boat fell back. I saw smoke rising from the stern and within a minute, we were a good distance away and the vessel had clearly caught fire. Beautiful orange flames rose up from the back. I don't know why, but I slowed and stopped to watch.

It seems crazy now, but that's what I did. It didn't much matter if they came after us again. We were nearing the point where we were about to run our fuel too low to get back to Phoenix, and I knew of no other land anywhere close we could head towards. That fire was the only chance we had of surviving. If the boat couldn't get going again, we had just enough fuel to go home. If they did recover, we'd begin the final stage of our suicide race away from Phoenix. Either way, nothing changed by waiting to make sure which way it went.

Hakee and Nina came up when the motor slowed, followed by the others. Nina had a bandage on her shoulder and was clearly in pain, but she tried not to show it and stood grimacing but resolute.

It was probably no more than two minutes after the pursuing vessel caught fire that we saw a bright flash which was quickly followed by a snapping crash. Huge chunks of the boat were hurled up and away from the explosion, the vibrant light of the fire showing their shattered shapes in the darkness. I stood, mouth open, in disbelief.

The main explosion was followed by a rapid set of smaller ones. I don't know if those were small fuel tanks going or if, perhaps, they were transporting munitions, but that went on for no more than another thirty seconds. Then, the flames died down quickly. I saw no one moving on what little was left of the deck.

Nina took the initiative. This was the break we needed and, seeing no other boats around us, she pointed us back towards Phoenix and we raced away from the flaming boat as quickly as we could.

When we spotted our home some time later, our tanks nearing empty . . . I cannot express what I felt in that moment.

- - -

By late morning, all of our recent arrivals had retired to get some much-needed rest. Nina's wound was painful and she'd accepted a dose of painkillers to help her get some sleep. Manu cautioned me that she might have to have repeated work done if there was more than a simple fracture of her bone. We didn't have x-ray machines or surgical equipment, so Manu had done the best she could, but we were without the basic instruments needed to deal with such injuries. It was a frightening reminder that we were well away from any facility capable of handling anything more than rudimentary care. If we were going to welcome newcomers onto our island, I wanted to be sure we try to entice someone who has surgical skills at minimum to be among that group soon.

Tok's neck was in much better shape. It wasn't clear if he'd been grazed by a bullet or a bullet fragment, or perhaps even a piece of wood sent flying by the projectile, but it was a very shallow wound and one which required little more than disinfection, bandages, and monitoring.

It was a tremendous relief to everyone in camp to have our friends back. So much so that it was difficult to go about our normal activities. Most everyone worked at half-speed, thrilled by our unexpected good news, but still suffering the shock and trauma which had been triggered only hours earlier when we believed our companions were lost to us forever.

My own head felt thick and slow. I was exhausted from lack of sleep and the nearly-debilitating stress of the past week, but I pushed on as best I could, maintaining a gentle smile and encouraging others to keep moving, to keep making progress on the basic activities which kept us alive on the island. Fishing, cleaning, knitting, patching, chopping, gathering, repairing, drying, cooking, washing. Such simple tasks were more difficult when traumatic events found us, but we had to push on, and as I saw others looking shocked and uncertain, even if happy, I did what I could to encourage and reinforce. It seemed to help get folks moving, and I found I spent a rather large chunk of my time that day doing nothing more than listening and counseling and offering my words of support.

Each of the returnees reappeared during the day at some point, whether to pee or to eat or to check on others. They all needed a few days to fully recover, I expected, and we were all very understanding of their frighteningly close call and its impact on their emotions and fatigue. As such, I made sure to talk to each of them when they were downing stew or bathing, trying to offer whatever assistance I could, even if it just meant providing a shoulder to cry on when emotional memories of their flight became overwhelming.

One really nice moment during that early morning was when Amy brought Azure out to meet everyone. Tok, despite his fatigue and mindset, broke down in tears when he first held his daughter. It was an amazing moment which almost made up for the pain we'd all suffered. Watching that big man hold his tiny, fragile child against his chest was one of the best moments of my life, and more than a few of us let our tears flow to watch his joy at meeting Azure.

Crawling into bed early that night, I was awash with a mix of emotions, mostly good ones. It was hard, though, to so quickly let go the ones I'd felt the night before, and I was still haunted by fears and doubts despite the face I'd put on to help the others deal with the bad and the good of the past few days.