The Raft (18 page)

“I’ll give you some anti-inflammatory pills for this. It’s very badly bruised. Once the swelling goes down, it should be fine.” He took a look at my nose as I explained what happened.

Dr. Gary stood up. “There’s some infection in there. Probably a good thing the diamond did get ripped out. I’ll give you some antibiotics. And I’d better put a couple stitches in there.”

I must have made a face because he said, “I’m good. There won’t be a scar.”

He cleaned my nose with some pads and smelly stuff, then left the room for a minute.

The rumble of the engines increased and I felt us move. We were leaving. I shut my eyes.

When I opened them, the doctor stood there, hand poised above me, holding a syringe. “This will sting, but then you won’t feel the stitches.”

Without thinking, I said, “Wait. Can you tell me something worse?”

His brow furrowed as he stood there.

“Worse?”

Worse.

Any given day of the last ten days—ten days?—was
worse
.

Any given
minute.

No one would ever have to tell me anything
worse
, because I’d been through worse.

I’d lived
worse.
And I had survived
worse.

So I waved him off with a hand. “Never mind.”

The shot was nothing compared to the pain when the diamond came out. And I didn’t feel a single stitch.

“Do you feel like you can sit up?”

I nodded, and sat up without even feeling dizzy. “I’m really hungry.”

He practically ran over to a small black refrigerator and opened it. He turned to me. “You want vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry?”

My mouth watered. “Yes.”

He grinned and pulled out a couple cans, and popped the top of one. “It’s a meal replacement shake. Take your time, see how your stomach adjusts to food. We can go a lot longer without food than we can without water. Do you know how long it’s been?”

I shook my head and glanced at the pink label before taking a drink. Strawberry. I’d never tasted anything so amazing in my life and I wanted to guzzle it all. I finished the strawberry and opened the chocolate.

The doctor smiled. “Now that we have you on your way to recovery, we should probably find out who you are.”

“I’m Robie Mitchell. I live on Midway.”

“Midway Atoll?”

I nodded.

His forehead scrunched up. “I’ll be right back.”

He left and returned a few minutes later, holding a sheet of paper. He turned it my way so I could see the photo on it.

It was me. Taken a few months ago on Midway. “Why do you have that?”

“They sent this everywhere when you were abducted.”

What?

I wasn’t abducted.

He set a hand on my arm. “Your aunt declared you missing twelve days ago when her friend couldn’t find you. And a couple witnesses came forward and said they saw a guy grab you near McDonald’s.”

Twelve days? Had it been that long?

He cocked his head a little and looked from me to the photo. “But with those little braids you don’t look anything like this.”

I pushed away the images of the McDonald’s and the man as I shook my head. “I wasn’t abducted. I was on the plane.”

Dr. Gary asked, “What plane?”

“The supply flight to Midway on the twenty-first. The G-One from Oahu Air Services.”

He ran a hand through his short dark hair. “Impossible.” He spoke slowly, like he was trying to get me to understand. “No one survived that crash.”

“I did!” Why wouldn’t he listen to me? Because I was a teenager? They would listen to Max. And I started to say, “Ask Max.”

But I didn’t. Because if I did, I knew what they’d find. Or rather, what they wouldn’t find. Max. He wasn’t on the island, wasn’t in the raft. And, except for the first night and day, never was. I thought he was though. I made him be there for me.

I made him be there.

I made him.

Which left me. The only one who survived the crash.

There was no one else to refute my story, verify my claims. My word, for maybe the only time in my life, would be gospel. No one had to know what I’d done. No one had to ever find out that I’d left Max.

Dr. Gary stood up. “I have to get someone to work on setting up a satellite call with Midway. We need to get hold of your folks.” He came back a few minutes later. “They said it might not be until tomorrow; Midway is having some satellite trouble.”

I sighed. “Typical.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as they get the connection. Do you want to try to stand?”

Dr. Gary held my elbow and I swayed a bit, but managed to walk with his help. He pulled the IV pole along as he led me over to a scale. He tried to keep me from seeing the numbers, but I managed to get a glimpse of the first. It was a nine.

I asked, “Can I get cleaned up?”

He frowned. “How are you feeling?”

I said, “Dirty.”

He nodded. “How about a little more rest, then we’ll see?”

I got back in the bed and shut my eyes, just to appease him, but fell asleep right away.

I woke up feeling refreshed and drank another shake.

Dr. Gary took all my vital signs, seemed pretty happy about them, and unhooked the IV. Then, the red-haired woman from the beach came to help. She told me her name was Kristen and she was twenty-two, in grad school. She took me to a room with two bunks, a desk and chair, and its own bathroom. “Looks like you’ll be my roomie the rest of the way.”

I asked, “Way to where?” I didn’t want to go back to Honolulu. I didn’t want to have to get on a plane to fly back to Midway. I couldn’t. My heart sped up.

She smiled. “We’re on our way up the chain. We should have you home in about a week.”

“Home?” The word felt funny.

She nodded. “Yeah. Midway is on our schedule. How lucky is that?”

Pretty frickin’ lucky.

She went to get me some stuff, and I stood there unsteadily, leaning against the wall, not wanting to touch anything, get something else dirty.

Kristen came back with a stack of white towels and an assortment of hotel-size shampoos and conditioners and toothpaste, then held up a red toothbrush still in its package.

I smiled and reached out to take the towels.

“Why don’t you just hop in that shower first? I’ll get rid of your clothes.” She glanced at them. “Do you want me to wash them?” She looked skeptical.

I shook my head. “I never want to see them again.”

“There’s someone your size, I’ll see what I can round up. We all bring extras with us. Not much shopping out here.” She took everything in the bathroom. I heard the shower start. She came back out. “Just toss your clothes out once you’re in.”

I stood there, not moving.

“Do you need some help, Robie?”

How long had it been since I heard someone say my name? I swallowed. A tear ran down my cheek. “I didn’t think I would ever feel safe again.”

Kristen stepped forward and hugged me. I held on tight. She smelled so nice, I was embarrassed at how I must have smelled. But she didn’t stop hugging until I stepped back.

She asked, “You okay?”

I nodded and went into the bathroom. I peeled off my clothes, dropping them in a heap, then stepped into the shower.

Even though the shower was probably standard for a NOAA research vessel, sort of tinny and small, I was so happy to be in it. The pitiful stream of water was hot at least and drizzled past my skin and into my soul. I stood there forever before I even made a move to soap up.

I used all four little bottles of body wash and three washcloths before I was done. The first washcloth was nearly black, the second was gray, and finally, the third was actually still white when I’d finished. And then I washed my tangled hair three times.

The water was threatening to cool by the end, and that was my cue to get out. Reluctantly, I stepped out onto the rubber bathmat. I dried off, relishing how hot and steamy my body felt.
How clean.

My clothes were gone.

A pile of different ones lay on the stainless steel vanity next to the toothbrush. Ignoring them, I stood there in my towel and brushed my teeth so many times I emptied the little tube of toothpaste. I couldn’t stop running my tongue over my teeth, they were so smooth. Then I finished drying off and turned to the clothes.

On top was a navy blue long-sleeve T-shirt with NOAA in white letters on the front. Underneath it was a sports bra that looked brand-new and a pair of pink underwear with the price tag on. Below that was a pair of black sweatpants. I dressed quickly, loving the feel of the fresh, soft clothes against my clean skin, even though the clothes were a bit too big. My stomach growled.

A voice came through the closed door. “Are you ready to go to dinner?”

Kristen. She must have been waiting the whole time.

I opened the door.

She smiled. “You look so much better.”

“I feel so much better.” I laid a hand on my stomach. “But I’m starving.”

“Then let’s go eat.”

The next morning, I woke up between warm sheets that smelled of springtime. Stretching out my legs and arms, I yawned with a pleased groan, loving the feel of the soft bed beneath me. I ran my hands through my soft, clean hair. It took two hours, most of which I dozed through, but Kristen and another woman took out my cornrows, and then I washed my hair for the fourth time. It was a little thinner than before, but I figured a properly placed ponytail would cover up the bald spot.

But that had all happened after I ate. Dinner was in my bed. Even though I was dying for a cheeseburger and fries, Dr. Gary told me plain food might be better than something richer. Kristen brought me cheese and bread and a sliced orange, and I was stuffed before finishing half of my plate. My stomach had shrunk a lot, I guess.

But after a good night’s sleep, I was ready to eat again.

I sat up and reached for one of the four full water bottles sitting on my bedside table. I downed almost half of it, then opened the top drawer just long enough to view the pile of granola bars Kristen had put there last night. I closed it again.

Still there.

Someone knocked on my door. I had been woken up twice in the night so the doctor could check my vital signs, but had gone right back to sleep both times. I’d slept in just the T-shirt, so I quickly threw on the sweatpants.

Kristen stood there. “Good morning! You look so much better.”

I nodded as I yawned again. “I feel better.”

“Midway got their satellite up and your parents know you’re safe. As soon as you’re ready, we can call again and you can talk to them yourself.”

Barefoot, I followed her up to the bridge, trying not to run even though I could hardly contain myself. I just wanted to talk to my mom and my dad. The last twelve hours had seemed just as unreal as the first twelve hours after the G-1 crashed. I needed something to prove that I was off the island. That I really was saved.

The bridge was a huge room with large windows that looked out onto the ocean. Nothing but water. I turned away.

Kristen said, “Joe here will take care of you.” She squeezed my shoulder and left.

Joe was tall and thin and had a nice smile. He did a couple things and handed me the phone.

Reception was fuzzy and cut out now and then, but I heard the ring on the other end. My heart pounded and my hands shook so hard, I almost dropped the phone.

Click.

The voice was breathless and anxious. “Hello?”

“Mommy!” It was the only word I got out.

“Robie, thank God!”

And then I could do nothing but sob and gulp for air as I listened to my mom on the other end, telling me, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

I believed her.

And when it was time to hang up, I still hadn’t said anything else. Joe took the phone from me and put an arm around me. “Everything is going to be okay.”

I decided to believe him too.

Epilogue

We are less than a day from docking at Midway. I’m so excited, I couldn’t even sleep last night. Although it’s been hard to wait, the past week on the ship has been almost fun.

People keep giving me things, and I have a whole pile of T-shirts and hats and beauty products. We’ve been watching movies and playing video games. And eating. I’ve been eating a lot. Not enough that I get rid of my stash in the bedside table though. When I get down to one granola bar, I go to the dining room and get more. Just to be sure.

I’m packing all the things in my new NOAA duffel when there’s a knock on the door. I open it to see Brian, the original guy from the beach. He says, “We have your stuff for you. I didn’t want you to forget it.”

I glance over at the bed, at all the stuff I’m trying to pack into the duffel. “What stuff?”

He gestures behind him. “From the island. The stuff we found by the raft and on the dune by your campfire. We assumed you’d want it.”

I breathe in, shuddering a little. Did I want any of it? Did I want to be reminded?

“Want to at least look?” He must see my hesitation. “We can get rid of it if you want.” He grins. “There are a lot of takers for that glass ball.”

I nod. “I’ll look.” I slip on a pair of white flip-flops someone gave me.

He leads me up to a storage room of some sort, with metal bins and boxes.

I walk in and stop. The raft is there on the floor, folded up. It looks so small.

“Here.” He points to a table where I see the glass ball. And the Santa Claus. And Max’s ditty bag.

“The glass ball and Santa are mine.” I swallow. “But the bag isn’t.”

Brian turns to me. “Whose is it?”

“Max’s.” I swallow. “Max … Cameron. The copilot.”

His eyes narrow. “The one who died in the crash?”

I haven’t told anyone anything about the crash. They only know what they hear. “He didn’t die in the crash.”

With a whistle, Brian sucks in a breath and sits down on a bin. “Are you serious?”

I nod. “He saved me though. Got me into the raft.”

He looks at the raft. “It’s really ripped up.”

The picture of that day, that moment, jumps into my head and I can’t speak.