Kal, Male, 36

	- Narrator, disaster survivor and castaway

	- 6'1, 190lbs, straight, shoulder-length dark-brown hair

Bailey, Female, 13

	- Disaster survivor and castaway

	- 5'2, 110lbs, golden-brown tanned skin, shoulder-length light yellow-brown sun-streaked hair

Keekah, Female, 14

	- Young teen on Isla Gale

	- 5'3, 125lbs, mocha-brown skin, waist-length mostly-straight black hair

Gale, Female, 42

	- Survivor on Isla Gale

	- 5'5, 130lbs, dark tanned skin, waist-length dark reddish-brown hair

It was an odd moment as we looked out at the boat, watching it slide slowly toward our shore. It had always been in the back of my mind that someone would come for Keekah to bring her back from her year of living alone, but I never really thought about what that might mean for her, or for us. Keekah was an integral part of our island family, and the knowledge that she would be taken from us hit me pretty hard.

We waited silently as the boat neared. I had the gun in hand, ready for anything. Keekah had shouted back and forth with her mother a couple of times, enough so that she was certain the occupants meant us no harm. Still, the last time we'd encountered anyone not from the island had been frightening and left us feeling helpless, and the solid metal in my hand fed my sense of control such that I couldn't relinquish it at that time.

The boat drew closer and I could see that it was a bit larger than our boat home, but not as modern. It seemed to be made of rough wood, not fiberglass. High sides and a wide V-hull rocked back and forth gently as it approached. There was a small steerage built near the middle that rose above the deck, but I saw no signs of radar or other electronics that one normally sees on boats of that size. It looked very primitive.

We waited until the boat had drawn within a few dozen yards of shore. A splash announced the dropping of an anchor, and someone jumped over the side, swimming toward us quickly.

A dark-skinned woman rose out of the surf and ran to Keekah, embracing her and crying openly. I stood unable to do more than stare as the tearful reunion played out in front of us. The woman was a bit taller than Keekah, wider hips, larger breasts, long, dark hair pulled back in a braid that ran over her butt. She wore tight, primitive looking clothing that might have been a swimsuit made from native fibers. I could only assume that she was Keekah's mother.

Another form jumped from the boat and headed toward us, joining the hug. A young woman, tall, dark like Keekah and her mother. Slimmer than the mom, but with similar large breasts and curvy hips. Her suit was similar to the woman's, and it hugged her body as she chattered to Keekah.

I holstered the sidearm, convinced for the moment that we didn't need that protection. The conversation died and the silence was uncomfortable for a few seconds. Then Keekah wailed and collapsed, her mother and the young woman joining her on the ground. I looked at Gale, saw the fear in her eyes, and walked with her to where Keekah sat crying. Gale put her arm around the girl and spoke to the newcomers.

I couldn't make out anything for long moments and settled behind Keekah. She turned and wrapped her arms around me, cried on my shoulder as Gale tried to understand what was happening. I saw Gale's face turn pale, foreign words firing rapidly between her and the older woman. When she finally turned back to me, what she'd discovered was unsettling.

“They aren't here to take Keekah back to their village. They're here to hide. To escape what is going on. War... uh... war is everywhere.” Keekah's mom continued to talk, and Gale did her best to convey her thoughts. “Many were killed in the last few months, most of the men, including Keekah's father. Then the bugs came and killed many more. They escaped, barely, a few of them, in several boats, and they stayed on an island several days south of here. The bugs came there and more died. They set out with everything they could carry twelve days ago, lost the three other boats in storms on the way.”

Keekah's mom kept going. “Her name is Manu, Keekah's mother. The other girl is her oldest daughter, Hakee. There are four others on the boat. Her youngest daughter Mie, her young nephew Poln, her friend Hona, and another friend Tok. Manu's only son, Keekah's brother, was on one of the boats they lost sight of a few days ago, and she is distraught over what may have happened to him.”

I paused only a moment. “Bailey, gather more shellfish so that we can feed everyone. Pull out a couple of jugs of water. Gale, come with me. Let's get the boat secured and help the others get down here. Keekah,” she lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at my face, “shhh... I know, but your mom is here. Your sisters. We'll see them taken care of, ok? I need your help right now, can you help me?”

She nodded, wiped away tears. “Good. Get your mother and sister up to the fire and help them get comfortable. See if they are hurt or need anything. Help Bailey get them fed quickly. Storm's coming. Can you do that for me?” She nodded again and stood, hugged me tight then took her mother's hand and her sister's and headed up the beach toward the fire.

Gale and I swam out to the boat and climbed the rope ladder to the deck. There we saw a young girl, a preteen, dark skin and sad, tired eyes. She looked just like Keekah only smaller. A young boy stood next to her, holding her hand, shyly hiding his eyes from our faces. A woman stood near the steerage, closer in age to Manu, short, wide, wearing a dirty, torn fiber dress that reminded me instantly of the clothes Gale had worn when we found her. A tall man stood next to her, mocha skin, wearing nothing but a cloth wrapped around his waist. He looked thin for his height, and his left arm was held tightly in a sling.

“Gale, we need to get them off the boat. I think a storm is running up on us,” I pointed to where the moon was disappearing behind bulbous clouds in the last light of day. “The man is hurt, I'll help him down as best I can. See to the children and the woman and get them back to camp.”

Gale talked to them, was able to convey that we were helping them and wished them to join us at the fire. The children shuffled down the rope ladder, followed by the woman. Gale said, “Tok thinks he can jump down ok, even with the arm. I'll go down first and help him if he needs it.” I nodded and Gale descended the ladder, followed seconds later by Tok's leap over the railing, his splash below marking his presence in the water. I leaned over to see Gale leading the group to shore.

I was left alone on their boat. I saw lightning flashing to the South and East and knew we would soon be hit. I started to jump down when I had the urge to see what, if anything, the group had brought with them. The deck was scattered with large sections of wood planks, bundles of fabrics wrapped in plastic tarps, an assortment of ropes and long poles and metal bars appeared to have been hastily tied to the sides.

Leaning over the back I spotted a motor that was much too small to properly propel or steer the boat. I was amazed they'd survived the rough seas with almost no way to maneuver the heavy vessel. The steerage had no radio, no electronics beyond those which connected to the motor. I found a flashlight in the console and turned it on. The deck looked like something you would expect to find overpacked with refugees from Haiti or some other third world country. It was rough, holes and broken sections everywhere.

I found a large hatch in the front that opened into a good sized section of storage. It may have been a dry compartment at one time, but the state of the boat left the insides dripping with water. I descended and found it packed with bags, boxes, and containers. I opened a couple and found rough cloth, sacks of grains and salt and sugar, several large bags of seeds. There were dozens more and I had no time to go through them all.

I moved back to the deck and grabbed a couple of the tarps, used them to cover the items in the storage as best I could. A double hatch was closer to steerage, and when I descended, I discovered what looked at first like a forest.

Shining the flashlight around the voluminous cavity, I saw dozens of trees, laid on their sides, root bundles wrapped. It smelled of earth and rotting foliage. Piled below the trees were more planks, poles, long sections of thick metal sheeting, more ropes. I couldn't make out what else was in the hull, but I could see what appeared to be more containers in the back, behind the trees.

I readied to make my way back to the deck when I heard a small whimper. I listened carefully for a moment, heard it again. I pushed through tree branches, suffering a couple of scratches on my arms and legs. It took me several minutes to get past and into the deeper section of the hull. Boxes and bags were crammed there, and I stopped once more to listen.

I heard nothing more and spoke softly. “Hello? Hello?”

The whimper was louder this time, followed by the sounds of someone crying. I moved bags and boxes, shifted things slowly, made a small path toward a corner of the storage.

A young woman, perhaps in her early teens, sat on a mound of bags, knees drawn up, her head buried and obscured. I moved to her, tried to keep the flashlight out of her eyes, and climbed up onto the pile of bags. She looked at me finally, definitely a teen. Her skin was light, delicate, her face looked Asian. She was naked, wet, and very dirty. She smelled of must and fear, of stale urine and unwashed flesh. Her skin was drawn tight, her form approaching skeletal.

I squatted next to her and took her hand. She leaned into me and I felt her desperation with her touch. I whispered into her ear, no idea if she understood me, “shhh... ok... ok, you're safe now... you're safe. Come on, need to get you out of here.”

She was too frightened to move at first, but I was able to coax her to step down the pile and slowly follow me through the prostrate trees. She walked unsteadily, awkwardly. I wondered how long she had been down here. I doubted anyone knew she was there.

I expected she was too weak to climb to the deck on her own, so I showed her how to climb onto my back and hold on. Her arms shivered as she wrapped them around my chest but she managed to keep her grip on me long enough for us to get to the deck.

Bailey was rising up the rope ladder from the surf as we came up and she looked at us uncertainly a moment. I called to her, “seems there was a stowaway down here. She's pretty weak, we'll have to help her to shore. Can you go back down and ready yourself in case she falls? I'm going to try to climb down the ladder with her on my back.” Bailey nodded and disappeared over the side.

I led the girl to the ladder and again had her climb on my back. I turned and started down. It isn't easy keeping a grip on rope in the best of situations, but it was doubly difficult with the extra weight clinging precariously to my back. We managed to descend without her falling, and Bailey helped ease her into the water.

It was over my head, so the two of us helped swim the girl into the shallower section. Once the girl could touch, I told Bailey, “run ahead and have Gale ask about the girl, see if anyone knows anything about her. Get out the last pouch of honey. I think she's going to need some simple calories right now before trying to eat normal food.”

Bailey swam and dashed up the beach as I slowly walked the girl in. Gale and Manu rushed down to meet us. Gale spoke, “Manu doesn't know who she is, had no idea she was on the boat. Oh, Kal, she looks really weak.”

“She is. Get her a blanket, she's shivering. Bailey's fetching the honey. Can you warm her some tea, as well?” Gale rushed off to do so, and Manu helped me work the girl to the fire.

The teen collapsed as we wrapped a blanket around her and mixed her a sweet cup of hot tea.

Silence was deafening as the deep somber mood of the newcomers wrapped around us all. I suspected the survivors were in shock, and Keekah as well. She sat next to her mother, huddled to her as if she were a child once more, not the maturing young woman that had shared my bed. Her father was dead, that had to be a terrible blow to her.

The others ate quickly, devouring everything put in front of them. Bailey brought out dried vegetables and fish, and the sounds of chewing played against the light surf and rising wind and the crackling fire. Even Gale seemed too overwhelmed to talk. I hugged Bailey and sat next to Gale, said to her, “we need to get them talking. We need to know more.” I looked out at the approaching storm, and at the boat. “That boat will be wrecked where it is when the storm hits. I'm going to try to move it out to deeper water, around to the East where it might be in better shape. Get them talking, find out what you can. I don't know what we're going to do for shelter for everyone when the storm hits, but their boat is barely seaworthy, can't send them back to that tonight.”

Gale understood and I motioned Bailey to come with me. We grabbed the raft and a couple of paddles and made our way to the anchored boat. Bailey was silent, most of the way, but as she started to climb the ladder, looked back at me, said, “this is all crazy, right?”

I nodded, said, “lot to take in, that's for sure. When you get up on deck, there's a rope tied to a beam near the front. Toss me down the loose end.”

Moments later, the rope slapped down and I tied the raft tightly to keep it from drifting loose. I climbed on deck and soon had the motor buzzing. Lighting crashed in the distance, rolling thunder rippled across the island. The waves were picking up, crashing against the worn, wooden hull. In my hurry to get the boat moved, I almost forgot about the anchor.

Bailey held the steering steady, the motor in a low-speed reverse to keep it from pressing further into shore. I used the manual crank to slowly grind the anchor back to the boat. My arms were sore when it finally clanked into place.

Slowly we backed the boat out into deeper water, careful to avoid where I knew there to be shallow oyster shoals. Moments later the rain started as we moved as quickly as we could to the East. A wide turn to the North took us up in to the nook in the island where the wind was just a touch lighter. Well off shore, I dropped the anchor and hoped it would hold.

Bailey brought me two long lengths of rope that I hoped would reach the shore. I tied off one end and we clambered into the raft, untying ourselves and paddling madly in the driving rain. The wind whipped the surf around us, soaking us and leaving a growing measure of water at our feet. It was a bit scary, to be honest, but Bailey kept paddling, and so did I, trailing the tied off rope behind us. We made shore just as thunder exploded all around.

We rushed into the tree line and quickly tied off the end of the rope. I didn't trust the anchor to hold the boat in place, and I hoped that if it did pull the anchor loose, the rope might keep it from being completely lost. Of course, I had doubts that the boat would stay afloat in a serious storm, so the it may have been a moot point.

Bailey and I dragged the raft into the tree line and tied it off, huddled under it as the storm crashed down over us. Lightning struck repeatedly in the open water and on the island. I hoped Gale had gotten everyone to a shelter of some kind before it hit the camp.

The raft held tightly in place afforded us pretty solid protection from the storm. Wind whipped in at our feet, but we felt secure underneath. I held my young wife close, stroked her hair, hugged and kissed her. We both knew our life on the island was going to change with the newcomers, and it was too soon to know just how much, or in what ways.

During a lull in the storm, I peaked out to see if we could make a dash back to camp. It didn't look good, another rolling angry line of lightning was approaching us, but it looked like we'd have fifteen minutes or so to stretch our legs and get ready for the next round. Bailey leaned into me again and we sat together, kissing and holding each other tight.

Nerves are a weird thing in anxious situations. They can drive you to do things you wouldn't expect, to need assurances that seem out of place for what is going on around you. People who laugh when terrified. A person who freezes when threatened. The guy who gets a hardon in the middle of a tense situation.

My nerves were shot, excited, frightened, overwhelmed. The newcomers, the storm, the news from the outside, it all mixed in me to produce a shuddering need to have sex with Bailey. Irrational, desperate, maybe, but after all I'd been through on the island, nothing much surprised me when it came to reactions and desires.

Bailey seemed to sense my need. She took charge of our energy and pushed herself into me. She kissed me powerfully, ran her hands over my sore shoulders. Her hair fell over me, teasing my skin as I found her growing breasts with my fingers. She laid me back, rolling her body over mine. My penis grew rigid against her thigh.

One leg slid down my side, then the other. Bailey's steaming pussy slid down over my length. I could feel her heat, the tickling pubes damp and slippery. She rose and fell a couple of times. Thunder boomed in the distance, wind calm momentarily. Bailey's young cunt was wet, her discharge coating my flesh between her labia. I moaned into her mouth, and then she slid me inside.

Bailey was on fire inside, I could feel her warmth radiate into my penis and into my mind. Down she slid, filling herself with my cock. I moaned again. She rose and fell, bringing her body against mine, taking me deep into her tight little cunt.

Bailey rode me, rode me, let her hips roll with each movement. She moved stronger with each twist. Her pussy slipped up and down my dick, her intensity became urgent.

I could feel nothing but her cunt, her fiery, slippery cunt. Bailey rocked me hard and drove herself up and down my length. I looked into her eyes as she fucked me, shuddered, and filled her vagina with my semen. “ooh Bailey... oooh... … … ahhhhhhhhhhhhh... ahhhhhhhhh...” My thirteen-year old wife pumped my cock with her pussy, milking from me several strong spurts of creamy jism.

Her pussy squished around my dick, my sperm sliding down my shaft and catching in both our pubes. She held herself hard against my body and wrapped her arms around my neck, crushing her lips to mine. I felt her body shiver, her vagina twitched randomly. Euphoria rushed over me as I spasmed and relaxed, my cock held tight in her young pussy.

Thunder boomed again, closer. I whispered to my lover, “would you like to cum?”

She smiled and shook her head, “no... that was for you...”

I squeezed her and we hunkered down under the raft once more as the wind rushed in and lightning shot down around us.