Kal, Male, 36

	- Narrator, disaster survivor and castaway

	- 6'1, 190lbs, short dark-brown hair

Bailey, Female, 12

	- Disaster survivor and castaway

	- 4'9, 80lbs, shoulder-length brown hair

The first thing I remembered next was the heat. I felt like I was on fire. My skin stung, felt burned, blistered, incapable of movement. I wondered why. The pounding in my head took my focus from my flesh, fighting off the nausea that ran from my temples to my gut. Time meant nothing, only pain, thickness, an overriding sense of preferring death. It was the worst hangover ever.

I rolled and felt hot stickiness grasp at my skin, drawing needles through my arms and legs. Yellow, bright yellow. That's what I saw first. Then it became yellow walls, yellow sides, yellow tubing. A lifeboat. Kate... Nina...

I remembered enough then, enough to put the pieces together. I'd taken to a lifeboat when the ship exploded and was sinking. Bodies... The disaster hit me hard, I tried to find Kate, thinking for a moment that maybe she'd joined me. Not with me now...

My pain was an afterthought only as the understanding hit me. Oh no... oh, Kate, I hope you made it... Oh, Nina, please be ok... I sat upright. Blood had pooled and collected in rivulets, bright and dark red, black, dried in places, rippling in others. I felt my head, found dried blood, soreness.

It was then that I first saw the island. From my view, it was maybe four or five miles across, a high ridge-line a half mile or so beyond the shore. Heavy forest covered everything that wasn't sand as far as I could see. A decent sized island. Out here, even remote as we were on the cruise, an island this size had a good chance of people living or visiting, exploring. With the disaster, surely there would be boats by here. I had gotten a huge break.

Only when I'd taken in those thoughts did my comprehension of my situation really take hold. The ship had exploded, burned, broken into sinkable pieces. I could have drifted endlessly across the Pacific and died a mad and desperate, dry shell. Kate and Nina might be dead already... oh, fuuuuck...

I was about a half kilometer from shore, my lifeboat hung up on an oyster shoal. The low sun was either a couple hours after sunrise or a couple before sunset, I couldn't be sure. I didn't want to spend the night on the water, so I set about freeing the boat and getting to land. There was a paddle attached that I was able to use to maneuver off the oyster shells and push toward the island.

Swells were pushing me across the visible face of the island out toward open water, but I was single-minded in my paddling, and despite my pain, I had the boat on the beach fairly quickly. I practically flew out of it and sprawled on the beach for a long time. I was physically and mentally overwhelmed. I don't think 'panic' is the right word, but I locked up, froze, was unable to do anything at that point. I hurt everywhere, felt every moment the loss of my wife and Nina.

The next thing I remember was noticing that the sun had obviously been rising, nearing mid-sky. My skin was baking, I was parched. I don't remember it, but I must have drug the boat up the shore and laid out on the sand under the treeline, shady and at least a degree or two cooler.

I think I passed out a couple of times. I woke myself coughing at one point, so dry that my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I couldn't clear my throat. Water... find water... I stood. Slowly. Very dizzy and disoriented, it took me long moments to take a few steps. The island wrapped back on itself and away from my view a mile or two in each direction. I couldn't see anything helpful from the tree-line due to the height and density of the shore-line trees, but when I walked the few dozen feet down to the waterline, I could just make out where the sand shore had a trough, the treeline dipping deeper toward the water.

I shambled toward the spot. It wasn't much, but a couple inches of water ran streaming through the small moss-stone bed, out of the trees and washing into the surf. I dipped a finger and tasted. No salt. I used my hands to gather the water, a frustrating process, before laying down in the trickle and sucking the water as it ran.

The next hour or two went just like that. I drank and drank and still felt dry, parched. But it helped, a lot, in fact. I rose out of the stream and felt almost able to think. Thoughts of Kate and Nina tried to bury my head, but I deliberately numbed myself to that. I had my first real thoughts of survival at that moment, and emotions and distress were not going to help.

I returned to the boat and dragged it to the stream, made a lean-to in the treeline. I used some large, half-cylinder shaped leaves to scrub out the blood, washed it out in the surf, then propped it under an elbow of four shorter trees. I dug a hole a couple of feet deep and diverted most of the trickling water to it. The cool liquid soaked away almost as fast as it flowed, but it made a reservoir of a few inches that I drank from freely. I lined it with more leaves, which helped a bit.

The first container I saw wash up floated in nearby. At first I hoped it would be a boat, but the way it bobbed gave away its lifeless existence. It was dull silver and caught a few hundred yards out in the water. I knew my one mission before nightfall was to recover that case and see what it might hold.

I drank long and deep before venturing out to the large, metal container. As I neared, I could see it was bigger than I had thought. Easily eight feet to a side and stuck in deeper water than I had expected, somewhere around my chest. I pushed it. Much lighter than expected, I had a sinking feeling that there was nothing in it.

When I finally got it to shore and dragged it up the sand to my water hole, I almost thought I was right. I smelled flowers. Roses, especially. A panel on the top had broken off, and I climbed up to take a look. Cartons of roses, stacked in plastic displays lined the container. Roses...?!? I guess you can eat roses, so not the worst thing...

The other top panel was loose and I used a large, thin stone to pry it enough to break it cleanly. The other half of the container had life-saving contents. Several dozen empty plastic jugs were inside, along with cases of pre-sugared juice drink powders.

Roses. Jugs. Drink mix. It was a very fortunate case to have washed up, to be sure. I immediately set to building a water filling 'station' near my water hole. Using the plastic from the roses, I created a channel that let me run water into the jugs. I emptied an entire large canister of drink mix, sweet berry, into a jug and shook it up.

It was the most sickeningly-sweet, viscous, grainy textured liquid I'd ever put in my mouth, and it was fantastic. I chugged and chugged, feeling my body crying out for nutrients. I didn't know how much 'nutrition' was in there, but it was packed with calories, and that mattered more at that point.

Dusk was on me and I was only barely scratching the surface on bottle filling. I'd gotten a dozen or so topped off, plus one half-full of my delicious berry syrup. I peed for the first time, a weak stream of dark yellow despite all I'd drank since finding the stream.

The pain in my head had gone down, the blood felt like it was forming a scab, and I started to feel a bit calm about my situation. I still blocked out thoughts of Kate and Nina, I couldn't deal with that yet. I scanned the horizon for early-dusk lights, hopeful of seeing a boat or a ship headed my way.

Instead, what I saw was a white lump further down the beach, along with another container much like the first one. This one had beached properly, washing in the edge of the surf. As I approached, I felt sick as I realize the white lump was a broken, soaking body. It was clearly a man and I tried my best to block it out and move on to the container.

Before I got there, I saw a second form, another body. My bile rose as I wondered just how many corpses were dotting the shore, and what I'd do if one of them was Kate or Nina.

This body was smaller, appeared to be a female, face down, and I started to turn away when I saw her back move a bit. I froze, stared. Yes... Yes! She's breathing. Gotta help her... I rushed to her, rolled the body over gently. It was a young girl, maybe twelve or so. She was unconscious but breathing. She had smoky burns along her neckline and on the back of one hand, but nothing else was obvious.

I was no doctor, but I actually tried to debate the merits of moving her in the event that she had broken bones or internal injuries. What if help came moments after I accidentally killed her by jostling her back to the camp? I felt her arms, legs, around her thighs, along her back, up her chest. Nothing felt broken. I removed her soaking shirt and wrung it out, hung it over my shoulder as I removed her jeans and panties.

It was the first time I saw the girl's privates, but at that point, there was nothing sexual about it. I was in stressful survival mode and I was so focused on helping her that I don't recall thinking more about her nude body. I might have noted her nearly-flat chest, small puffy nipples, and hairless thin slit, but it was only a second in passing and I was soon confident that I should move her before night hit.

I gathered the unconscious girl in my arms and took her back to the camp. I laid her under the lean-to raft, and ran some fresh water along her lips, trying to get a few drops into her mouth. Until I undressed the girl, I hadn't even thought about my own clothes.

I was nude.

The disaster had happened just as I was shooting my load in Nina's ass, I'd worn nothing at all at that moment.

I wrung out the the girl's pants and panties, hanging them, along with her shirt, over a thick branch nearby. The heat of the day was becoming lost as the sun dipped to what I now knew was West, slipping behind the trees and leaving only fading light behind. I worried about the possibility of a cool night and a decided lack of anything to cover us.

Blackness rolled in quickly, and as the girl slumbered, unmoving, I stared at the darkest night sky I'd ever seen. The night didn't become chill, but the breeze picked up and reminded me of the sorry state of my flesh. I was raw, burned, cracked in spots, the wind sandpaper across my skin. I huddled down against the cool sand, preferring it for some reason.

- - -

Sometime that night I awoke, did not remember drifting off. I was stiff and stayed still for a moment. I glanced at the girl. She was still on her back, but had moved a bit, arms up higher, legs parted slightly. No sign of her stirring, though, and I wondered for the first time who she was. Who she'd lost when the ship went down. Whether she'd ever wake up.

- - -

I woke again in early dawn, light streaming around the East end of the island, barely showing the sand and waves. My skin was chilled, and sometime during the night I'd slid next to the young girl and covered her with my arm. She breathed shallow, unhurried, and it was hard to imagine the girl wasn't perfectly alright. She didn't stir.

I rose slowly, achy, stiff, sore. Parched. I drank freely from the pooled water, not ready yet to lift the heavy jugs to my lips. I moved naked to the water, letting the warm briny water lap against my skin, soothing it a bit. I floated out, let my mind drift, forgot myself entirely.

A glint down the beach brought me aware again and I swam gingerly toward the second container. I'd forgotten it when I found the girl. I tried to drag it up the beach but it was heavy, stuck deep in the sand at the water's edge. Unlike the first, this one had no obvious broken doors or panels. I tried the obvious handle but it was bent out of shape and wouldn't turn. I spent an hour trying to get in, using rocks to bash the metal sides and trying to wedge into the cracks.

“help... help me...”

The weak, cracking voice came from the direction of my camp and I turned to see the naked, brown-haired girl stumbling in my direction, sandy and in obvious distress. “Help!” She screamed hoarsely as she saw me and tried to run, becoming insistent. I jumped down and ran to her. “Please help me!”

“Shh... calm, Sweetie, it's ok, it's ok... calm down...” I wrapped my arms around the girl instinctively, and to my surprise, she squeezed me back, pressed her flesh into mine. She cried against my chest but there were no tears. She needed to hydrate quickly. “Come on... I've got water, come on...”

I led the distraught girl to the water hole below the lean-to and cupped my hand, dipped, and offered it to her. She drank greedily, handful after handful she took from my hand. I had the idea to use one of the plastic rose containers as a cup and filled it for her. She easily drank a liter before slowing.

“What's your name?”

She swallowed a mouthful, panting and tense. “Bailey.”

“I'm Kal. How old are you, Bailey?”

“Twelve.”

“I was worried about you, Bailey, you didn't wake up for a long time.” She broke into tears finally. “But... But now that you're awake and drinking... I know you're ok, ok? We just need to keep calm.” I offered her a small cup of the juice-mix syrup. “We've got some sweet juicy stuff. Eat some, need to get some energy.”

She took the cup of red-purple syrup and downed it in a gulp, her eyes asking for more. I gave her a full glass and she worked on it more slowly. She had stopped crying, tears caking on her glistening cheeks. “What happened?”

I shook my head. “I don't know. There was an explosion. Several. I just remember being in my cabin with... Then I was in water, and then a life boat, and then here. Do you remember anything?”

She looked at her feet. “Not really... The last thing before I woke up was on the climbing wall with my sister...” She trailed off, cried again. “There was a dead person down there, wasn't there,” her head gesturing down the beach. I nodded, and she cried harder.

I don't know what made me do it, but I grabbed one of the still-intact red rose bundles and handed it to Bailey. She looked at me, uncertain what she was expected to do or say, I shrugged back. “I found them. I think you can eat them.”

Bailey burst into giggles, laughing and holding her stomach. As she giggled, she took the roses from me and sniffed them. “Nice... they smell nice. Maybe we'll eat them later.” A very light moment in the middle of our dark thoughts and desperate situation. I needed it as much as she did.

An odd look crossed her face. “Why are we naked?” I took it as a good sign that she had calmed down enough to worry about that.

“Your clothes are over there on the tree, probably almost dry. They were soaked when I found you, so I took them off and wrung them out while you were unconscious.” She blushed and stared at her feet, drawing her body up in a tight position. “As to mine... I... I didn't have them on when I got here in the life boat. I guess I lost them on the ship.” Not exactly the whole truth, but close enough. “I've got nothing. I guess I could wear roses. Can you sew?”

She giggled again and maybe even relaxed just a touch for the first time. “No, no I can't sew.” She gazed out toward the sun rising over the water, shaded her eyes, “What's in this one? What's in that one?” She pointed to the first and second containers.

“This one had the roses, jugs, and drink mix. There's a ton more of each still in there. We should be filling jugs with water any time we're not doing anything else, who knows if or when this pathetic stream might stop running.” I showed her my trick with the plastic to fill the jugs and she started on one. “As to the other, I don't know. I can't get it open. That's what I was doing when you called out.”

We sat silent for a moment. I thought about asking Bailey about her parents, about her sister, but that just brought up thoughts of my own losses and I wasn't ready to discuss them. I expected Bailey didn't want that, either. Instead, I tried to keep us both positive and doing something useful. “You keep filling jugs, I'm going to take a look around the island for a bit, see if maybe there's someone who can help.

Having Bailey with me had changed my mood and my energy level. I still hurt, head still thick and cloudy, but I had someone to help, I wasn't completely alone on the island, and that mattered greatly, it seemed. I left her at the water hole and moved down the island toward the second container. I tried again to jimmy a latch open but had to give up when my fingers could no longer grip the rocks I was using.

The body was still nearby, bloating and looking less like a man. I moved off quickly, unwilling to do anything for the decaying former human. To the East I walked, rounding the end of the island as it turned first Northeast then North, the beach narrowing and stopping where the ridge-line I'd seen the day before cut across the island. Boulders and smaller rocks broke the surface of the water below the cliffs. The heights, probably 80 – 100 feet above me, were slick, wet, rocks packed around rocks and dripping water down the face.

Out of beach, I had the energy to move into the trees to the Northwest, which would have been the general direction toward the camp site. A few feet in I knew there was no way. Tangles of vines and swarming insects met me almost immediately, and despite the promise of unknown good things beyond, I couldn't get through the foliage.

I backed out and made my way back to Bailey. She was dutifully filling jugs and I took over for her to give her a break. She looked around a moment. “Umm... where do we pee?”

I hadn't thought about it before, only peeing once myself since I came to the island. “Well... I guess anywhere, really. Down where the stream meets the surf makes sense, that way we don't walk in it.”

“And, I can wash after. Ok, that works.” She started down to that point on the sand, then paused. “Kal... don't watch, ok?”

I was so caught up filling jugs and wondering what was in that other container I hadn't even considered it. “Ok. Go do your thing.”

If she hadn't said a thing, I'd have probably never looked. But she did, and I did.

Bailey squatted next to the fresh water trickling into the surf, her feet lapped with waves. Her bare young ass was toward me, and I watched from a few dozen feet away as she urinated, liquid running down between her legs. She peed for a long time, a very good sign.

For the first time on the island, I got hard looking at Bailey. My cock stood up despite a multitude of reasons not to do so. The young girl was dripping now, almost done, and I couldn't take my eyes away from her small, pissing body.

Bailey splashed her thin, hairless crotch in the stream then dunked herself in the seawater. I tried desperately to make my hardon go away.

I failed.

The girl came back to the water hole, and I saw her eyes go to my crotch, my hardon bobbing as I moved a jug. I swear she almost smiled. She said nothing, however, and soon took over for me on the water filling. We shared a meal of juice slurry and more water. It wasn't filling, but it was damn sure better than nothing.

After, I travelled West down the beach as the sun passed midday. I kept to the treeline to stay in the shade. I brought with me one of the plastic rose containers filled with water to prevent dehydration. That end of the beach was much like the other, except that when it rounded and turned north, it revealed more of the island trailing to the west. At least a couple more miles of land went that way, trees almost down to the water.

I walked on, found a few pieces of metal and wood that had drifted up. I pulled them away from the water so that I could retrieve them later. Further down, I found a bath towel, soaked and covered in seaweed and sand. I hung it over my shoulder, becoming inured to the way my skin flamed with every touch. There were a couple of small seat cushions, a plastic dinner platter.

An emergency supply case.

I checked the package immediately, opening it and spilling its contents onto the dinner platter. Bandages, a small roll of medical tape, scissors, small packets of sunscreen and burn lotion, a handful of percocet and ibuprofen and anti-histamines. I rolled the items back into the case and felt a rush that this had landed on the island for me to find. All useful things when you have nothing but sand and water.

The island wasn't done surprising me. A bit further down, where the island bent back west and extended another mile or two, I found a sealed brown case with a handle and I opened it wide.

The initials 'M. C.' were inscribed on the wooden box inside. The box was locked with a key, but a smash with a rock soon dislodged it.

I hit a jackpot. Not because there were a few dozen cigars inside, but because of what else was in the box. Lighters, six red Bics and two plain Zippos. Two boxes of matches. A small can of fluid for the Zippos. Like I said, when you have nothing, anything is a gift. This, though, this was the jackpot.

Fire would make all the difference in the world, and I had a box full of sparks.

- - -

It was late in the afternoon when I returned to Bailey with the cigar case, emergency pouch, seat cushions, platter, towel, and a couple of the smaller planks of wood. She had the jugs piled up higher, nearly half of them full. I guessed that we had over 100 gallons of water by now, plus a couple already mixed into juice-drink slurry. Bailey had pushed the container over, hauled out the rest the contents, and piled the empty jugs close to the water hole. The drink mixes had been stashed under the life-boat lean-to, along with the plastic roses and their containers. Bailey was plucking the roses and filling plastic holders with the petals.

“I hoped there was something besides drink mix and roses in there, that's why I pulled everything out,” she'd explained when I looked at the pile of things she'd removed. “Hey, what'd you find?” Bailey dropped the roses and met me near the water hole. She hadn't put her clothes back on, the sweaty, naked twelve-year old eyeing my prizes and looking much better than the day before. Her little nipples were tight and hard and I looked away before my cock got going again.

I showed her each one. She examined the cushions like they were something exquisite. I pulled out the cigar box and showed her the lighters, explaining that we'd make a fire that night just to prove we could.

- - -

The sun sank as we finished plucking the roses and filled the last jugs of the day, sharing another meal of sweet syrup, adding to it a 'salad' of rose petals dipped in a paste made of a pineapple juice mix. Not a bad meal after a long day of trying to survive and getting really lucky.

The night breeze blew in cooler. It slid down the beach rather than onto shore, and both Bailey and I were chilled as we brought some broken branches and kindling to a pit I had dug moments before. Piled a foot or so high, I first made a punk of sorts with dry twigs and bark, crumbled leaves, and vines wrapped around. I lit the end with one of the Bics and soon we had fire in the pit.

Bailey's eyes lit up with our success. It's amazing how uplifting a fire was in that moment, our dark island otherwise so far from something so simple, so powerful, as burning timber. I wished we had something to cook over it, but the heat in the chill evening was wonderful.

We talked little. Bailey was chilled despite the fire, but still didn't put on her clothes. I wondered if she was doing that for my benefit, since I had none to put on.

She had sat beside me, fairly close. I could smell her body and I'm sure she could smell mine. Mostly of warm brine, her scent was undeniably feminine. Attractive. Arousing.

I tried hard not to feel aroused, but the trauma, the heartbreak, the overwhelming emotions I'd experienced the last couple of days left me horny and in need of release. It wasn't that I expected or even wanted Bailey to be a part of it. We weren't anywhere near there. Yet. But she was close, and smelled attractive to my baser instincts.

I pulled her close to me and wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of someone against my skin. I still had no clothes, and though she could have just allowed me to lean her against my shoulder, she slid down and sprawled out beside me next to the fire, nestling her warm little body into mine.

“Thank you,” I whispered. She murmured an 'mmm-hmm' and settled her head on my arm. My cock throbbed and made contact with her young ass, and I tensed trying not to let her know how close I was to ejaculating on her.

I calmed my situation by trying to plan the next day. I still wanted to get the other container open. We needed to gather firewood, bring back the rest of the debris, finish filling the water.

The warmth of Bailey's ass was sending vibrations through my erect penis which was pressed against her butt, pointing between her back and my stomach. She shifted lightly, sending jolts of tension through my groin.

I groaned, tried to stop the inevitable. I reached between us, grabbing my cock hard, trying to stop the oncoming flood. I knew she was aware of what I was doing, and that just made my situation harder to control. I felt my body rush, my balls drew up, I almost rolled away.

Instead, I ejaculated against Bailey's ass, squirting my load between our bodies. I breathed heavily as I came, sending another shot onto her twelve-year old butt. Again, again, and again, my cum surged up my penis and flooded out between us, coating her lower back and parts of her butt cheeks.

I lay panting, penis throbbing, drooling cum against the young girl. She didn't speak, never moved. I froze, ashamed, horrified at what I'd done. I'd ejaculated on a preteen girl's ass, a girl I should be protecting, not taking advantage of. I stumbled on my words. “I'm... I'm sorry... sorry, I didn't mean... Bailey, I'm sorry... I'll... I'll clean you up.”

She nestled against me tighter. “Its ok. I know that happens to guys. Just keep me warm, I'm getting cold.”

“I know, Sweetie, I know. It's... it's been a very hard few days for me... I didn't know that was going to happen until I couldn't control it.”

She turned her head back at me, kissed my cheek, smiled sleepily, said, “It's ok, Kal. Really. Just... hold me, ok? Just hold me.”

I wrapped my arms around her and let my fear and my guilt and my desperation melt away as my penis shrank against Bailey's cum-splattered flesh. I held her as long as I was conscious and we spent the night keeping each other warm as the fire sputtered and waned.