Kal, Male, 36

	- Narrator, disaster survivor and castaway

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

Bailey, Female, 13

	- Disaster survivor and castaway

	- 5'3, 115lbs, golden-brown tanned skin, shoulder-length light yellow-brown sun-streaked hair

Keekah, Female, 15

	- daughter of Manu, sister of Hakee and Mie, cousin of Poln

	- 5'4, 130lbs, 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

Manu, Female, 31

	- Survivor from Hahonoko, mother of Keekah, Hakee, and Mie, aunt of Poln

	- 5'5, 150lbs, mocha-brown skin, butt-length straight black hair

Hakee, Female, 17
 
	- Survivor from Hahonoko, daughter of Manu, sister of Keekah and Mie, cousin of Poln

	- 5'9, 150lbs, mocha-brown skin, butt-length straight black hair

Mie, Female, 11

	- Survivor from Hahonoko, daughter of Manu, sister of Keekah and Hakee, cousin of Poln

	- 4'7, 85lbs, mocha-brown skin, shoulder-length wavy black hair

Poln, Male, 10

	- Survivor from Hahonoko, nephew of Manu, cousin of Keekah, Hakee, and Mie

	- 4'7, 100lbs, mocha-brown skin, short, wavy dark-brown hair

Hona, Female, 28

	- Survivor from Hahonoko, friend of Manu

	- 5'2, 155lbs, dark-brown skin, shoulder-length wavy dark-brown hair

Tok, Male, 34

	- Survivor from Hahonoko, friend of Manu

	- 6'3, 205lbs, brown skin, shoulder-length wavy dark-brown hair

Amy, Female, 15

	- Stowaway from California

	- 5'6, 115lbs, pale skin, shoulder-length straight black hair

My 251st day on the island was the first one to feature seaweed washing up on the shore. Oh, we'd seen a frond or two, but nothing worth spending time to investigate. Big clumps of light-green strands had collected over night at the high tide line, and I could see thick sheets of it floating in with the rough waves. They appeared to me like kelp, and I saw Hona and Manu collecting it and carrying it up to a blanket they had laid out not far away. Gale kissed me and walked down to the shore, everyone else in camp still in bed.

I ask why they collected it, if it was still edible or useful for some other purpose. Manu told me, “fresh, yes. Good to eat. Very good.”

Later, I found out from Tok, with Gale's help, that he thought there must be a kelp bed nearby. What was collected was very fresh, must have recently been washed free of their holds.

Gale and I helped collect as much as we could handle. Hakee and Tok joined us, followed by the others moments later. It became a community effort to harvest the bounty and start preparing it.

It really needed to be washed before we tried to cook or dry it. The saltwater was rough, kicking up lots of sand, the very thing we needed to clean out of it. Amy had the idea to use the raft to take it to the stream. We'd had rain overnight and broken our time on the beach together by quickly moving into our shelters. If the stream ran strong, the edibles might be washed there.

We stopped collecting the seaweed near the camp and loaded what we had on the raft. We had to carefully drag it along the wet sand to avoid the pounding surf, and its weight was too great to easily carry or drag where the sand was dry.

Hakee, Tok, Hona and Keekah remained behind. Hakee started a fire and got the camp ready for the day, then joined the others in building large racks to hold the drying seaweed.

The rest of us made the stream and found it flowing strong. We discussed strategy a moment before deciding on a quick engineering solution. We dug in the stream about ten feet from the top of the wave line, creating a holding basin. We dug it as a long oval, the stream flowing down the middle as the fast-moving channel, the long-side ends held circling water that would work well for rinsing. We brought stones to line where we worked, and immediately, Gale and Amy set about starting the process.

Clumps of seaweed were spread out on clean blankets next to each. Bailey and I offloaded the raft while Mie, Poln, and Gale started collecting the seaweed that washed up there. After the raft was clear and huge piles of seaweed were next to Gale and Amy, we rinsed the raft and readied it to be loaded with cleaner greens.

Seaweed is an odd one in the food chain. It's not a plant, though it looks like one. Multicellular algae constitute a wide variety of seaweed that grows in salty and brackish waters all over the world. Eaten in soups or dried, it was a big part of diets in many places. I had lived in San Diego long enough to really enjoy many Asian restaurants, and seaweed in soup was one of my favorites.

I realized then we could make sushi. The nori wrappers that were used in many sushis were dried seaweed. I didn't know if the variety washing up on the island would be perfect, but I bet Hakee would know a way to create something like nori after we dried them. The thought of sushi hadn't crossed my mind since the early days on the island, and only then because I worried about whether we could live on raw fish and seafood any length of time without being sick, in case we lost our fire-starting supplies or had weeks of drowning rain.

It was a pleasant thought, one I shared with Bailey as we carried armloads of the green fronds to the piles next to Amy and Gale, the two working feverishly to rinse as fast as possible. Manu had showed them what to do, and they worked quickly at the task.

“Ever had sushi, Kitten?”

“All the time.”

“We should make sushi when some of this is dry. The Hahonokoans brought some rice, I bet we could throw strips of the meat from the green and silver fish we catch-”

“I'm calling those 'jacketfish'.”

“Ok... any reason?”

“Just what they wanted to be called in my head. Jacketfish.”

“I'll remember that. Anyway, some of the jackfish, onions, peppers, seaweed, rice, touch of salt and hot pepper... I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. Sushi was one of my favorites.”

“Mine too. My sister wouldn't touch it, but Mom loved it and I thought it was my favorite food until I had a canoli.”

“A canoli. I can see that. Helluva tasty treat.”

“I know I'll never have one again, but if I had to pick one thing to have first if we ever leave, it would be a canoli.”

“I'll remember that, too.” I stepped back in the conversation as we took over for Amy and Gale at the rinsing stations. “You've got names for everything, then?”

“Pretty much. I don't know what their really called, of course. But it seems silly to keep calling things 'green and silver fish' when we can just give it a name.”

“Love it. You've really been having fun collecting everything in your journal. That's really cool, Bailey. Valuable, interesting. I have no doubt that one day, the things you write there will save our lives. Or at least, save someone else's life. Proud of you.”

She smiled at me. “Thanks, Kal. I do enjoy it. The names are really just a small part of it, you've seen it.”

“Yeah, I know. I'm impressed, really. You've done a great job.” I tasted the water in the basin below, found it had a slight briny flavor, and let the salty water be washed out a moment, along with a lot of sand. “So you've named everything. Are you still calling the island 'Isla Gale'?”

She leaned her head to the side, pursed her lip, “hadn't really thought about it, you know? Not like we need a name for it, it's the only one we have. Think I should name it?”

“I do. Why not? I mean, Isla Gale was kinda a joke on Gale's part, wry humor. Now that it's home... the name should mean something to us. Not a joke, a tribute. To us, to it, to something. Something important for all of us.”

“I'll think about it. Yeah, something important.”

The rest of the afternoon we worked at the various tasks. Two people rinsed while two more hauled the raft back to camp where Hakee and the others had drying racks ready. Three collected seaweed and kept building up piles around whoever was washing.

It was some exhausting work, really. Constant movement, monotony. But the conversation was great, everyone enjoying the different assignment as a change of pace. We collected more greenery than I expected, and the drying racks stood like solar panels all around the camp. Tok had collected hardy vines and thin but strong reeds that grew near the swamp, the others helping him to put together simple, sturdy racks that held our green harvest.

As I kissed Amy and Keekah upon our return, I listened as Keekah translated Tok's description of the racks. He explained how to make them, how long to dry the seaweed, all of which Amy jotted down in her notebook.

A big pot of seaweed was boiling over the fire, chunks of the native tubers and dried beef mixed in. We all ate steaming bowls, the briny, bright flavor of the sea greens was a special treat and we all had seconds. There was sand in it despite our best efforts, but sand in our food was nothing new. Almost everything we ate had sand in it. The smoked meat, the fresh fish, the wild onions. We always rinsed it before adding to a pot or eating with our hands, but there was always sand.

I simply got used to it, really didn't notice it. Like someone who ignores a small piece of gristle in an otherwise tender cut of meat, or people who eat watermelon, or grapes, and aren't troubled by the seeds. It was just a texture that went into everything, and since there was no other choice, I just ignored.

The one place we tried to keep completely clear of sand was our beds, and it wasn't easy nor always successful. The wind carried the tiny grains everywhere, and it was impossible to avoid it at all times. But we generally kept the beds clear of all but a few annoying grains with towels and washing our feet prior to climbing in.

Amy sat next to me as we ate, frequently running her hands over my thigh, sending me wanting glances. While the others shared tea and wound down for the evening, Amy stood and prompted me to join her in the cabin. She smiled, a mock shyness on her face. Bailey looked at me and smiled, nodded her head toward the boat. My eyes suggested she join us, and as she stood to go urinate, she whispered, “go enjoy each other. I'm feeling really tired after that long day.”

I asked Keekah if she wanted to come, but she just grinned and told me to make Amy happy. So I gladly took the fifteen-year old's hand and climbed into bed kissing her.

She ran her hands over my flesh, stroking my stomach, teasing my balls and shaft. She whispered, “just wanted to touch you. You feel so good...”

“Love you, Amy... Mmm... ahhh... yeah, that feels very nice...” One of her hands stroked my cock as I began to explore her young breasts. Amy was flushed, her skin a bit chilled. Her tits felt hot to my touch, soft and tender, dark areole tightening. She sighed as I touched her, my dick becoming rigid in her fingers.

I pushed her back on the bed, kissed my way down her body. Her neck, her boobs, her slender stomach, down to her genitals where I let my tongue trail down and then up her slit as her thighs parted and welcomed me in. Amy moaned as I ate her pussy, her sweet juices running freely over my lips. My chin was wet, my tongue coated in her slick, thin cream.

I grazed her anus, felt her clench but not resist, lapped her asshole gently, then moved back to her clit. Up and down I licked her, clit to butthole to clit again, her thin, dark labia swelling and drawing open. I brought a finger to her vagina and slipped it inside, rubbed along the rough patch on the upper side. I felt her hole close around my finger as she clamped down.

As she writhed on the bed, I used my mouth to lick her hood, her clit, the tender upper flesh of her labia. My finger in her vagina put pressure on her G-spot, worked in rhythm with the way I played over her clit. Amy tensed, tensed, cried, out, bucked under my face and hands. She clenched again, clenched, her back pushed up, her legs squeezed and opened.

I bored down on her sensitive spots, moved quickly in and out, moved faster with my tongue. Amy cried out loudly, grunting-moans filling the cabin. Ejaculate sprayed out of her cunt, over my fingers, splashing on my hand and chin and neck. Again, and again she cried out, thin streams of fluids shot quickly as she squirted.

Amy breathed heavily as she fell back, her eyes open, her mouth wide. She was barely able to say, “what... was that... oh my god... what was that?”

I kissed my way up her body, let her taste her squirt on my lips, the pungent, thin juices dripping from my face. “That... was you squirting. So hot, Amy, so hot...”

I let her catch her breath before running my penis over her slit. She pulled her knees up and I penetrated her, slipping slowly between her labia and soon held snuggly by Amy's fifteen-year old vagina. I fucked her then, not hard, but not soft. In and out, in and out, she held my shoulders, her knees drawn tightly to my sides, her hips rolled up to allow me to hump her deeply.

I kissed her neck as I fucked her, the half-Asian teen so beautiful below me, her mouth open, her eyes on mine, her body absorbing my pounding and responding by humping me back. We churned her cum, her squirt, my penis swelling in her tight little hole.

I felt my cum rushing up fast. I slid my hands down Amy's sides and slid them under her ass. I held her tightly, using my hands to drive myself into Amy's pussy. My head on hers, sweat covering us both, I came in Amy's vagina and held myself tight against her as I emptied myself there. Heavy globs of jism boiled out into her as I bellowed and breathed heavily.

We kissed as we spasmed together, her cunt clenching around my length, my penis throbbing, leaking sperm inside her. It was with regret that we slowly slid out of bed and joined the others in cleaning up the camp.

We helped Keekah up on deck after the chores were completed, and the four of us settled into bed. Bailey said, “I've thought of a name for the island.”

I replied, “oh? Let's hear it.”

“'Island of the Phoenix'. Phoenix for short. I got it from Harry Potter, there was a phoenix that would die and be reborn. Kinda like all of us, I guess. We died before we came here, and here, we've been reborn. Island of the Phoenix. What do you think?”

“Perfect. Perfect.”

Amy agreed, “oh, yes. That's perfect.”

Island of the Phoenix. It fit us well. It defined us as survivors, not victims. Everyone on the island had lost everything, or almost everything, before washing up. But no one had given up, no one had failed to survive and thrive. We were like the phoenix, in a way. Each of us had been reborn into different lives from the ones we had before. As I drifted off, in my head I couldn't stop the image of one of us standing on the high point of the island, looking out, yelling, “Phoenix!” in the way “Wolverines!” had been shouted in the movie Red Dawn. It put a smile on my face, but I hoped the Russians didn't land on our shores and try to claim our homeland.

If there were still Russians.