David came back two days later. With Water. And a plan.

Renee had spent the past two days collecting mussels along the coral reef stretching just beyond the graves of the two unfortunate ones. She took the mysterious blankets, and washed them out in cold Water to remove the stains in them. Though they were stiff, they were clean. Jon had hung them up over the plane to dry in the baking sun after she rinsed them off. That night they slept tightly in each other’s arms, more tightly than they had in years, since the temperature dropped severely as the sun left. The sand turned into cold putty; a soft sea breeze chilled them to the bone. And each morning they both awoke parched with thirst, struggling for hours at a time with two sharpened stones (and much patience) to poke holes in the seemingly impermeable shells. The day before David returned they spent walking what they estimated was half the length of the entire island—about two miles—on the fringe of the thick foliage, picking them up and lugging them in the blankets, which had turned out to be of quite useful. The coconuts were sparse, the milk inside starchy and a strong laxative.

For those long days under the grueling sun, Jon convinced Renee that David would be back, that he just needed time. Finally, she’d had enough; wondered why he just wouldn’t face the fucking facts. They were lugging the coconuts in the homemade sacks on their backs, Renee carrying half a dozen and Jonathan three quarters of a dozen. They were on their way back to the plane, which they had stationed as their resident spot. Jonathan had been talking loosely about building a makeshift shelter from bamboo, as they had seen in countless movies. Then, suddenly, he brought up David. "He’ll be back. I know he will."

Renee, back screaming in pain from the dull pressure of the ransacous fruit, dropped the coconuts. "Why do you keep saying that? You know he’s gone. If I would have gone after him, if we had, we could have talked some sense into him."

"Renee, the guy just lost his wife. He’s going through hell."

"So, he’s not thinking rationally. He’s insane."

"No."

"Are you telling me that if I were the one that died in the plane crash—" Renee started. Jon cut her off, telling her not to even mention it; it sent chills up his spine. She wouldn’t be stopped.

"No, you listen to me. If I died in that crash, you would have run blindly into the jungle, full of snakes 20 feet long and lord-knows-what—"

"We haven’t even seen an animal at all," Jonathan said, as he dragged along the coconuts, just as dehydrated and worn out as she. "Not one."

"Meaning that this is perhaps an ecosystem with some very large, very ferocious predators. Have you ever heard of a fucking predator-prey relationship in a habitat? Theoretically, a lack of smaller animals means that there is a stiff balance between the predator and the prey. Larger, dominate species, such as—let’s say—the—"

"Okay. Please stop. I’d rather not know," he insisted stiffly, fed up with the biological mumbo-jumbo she seemed to think up out of nowhere. For the past couple of days she had kinda been bossing him around; he despised it when she was in control, though he would never even flat out admit it to himself.

A shiver ran up her spine as they walked the remainder of the way back to the beach, her wondering for a while if they had even turned the right way; if they had not, by rotten luck, already passed it during their arguments. A predator-prey relationship was a ratio to predators and prey in an ecosystem. Usually, in a habitat like this, there were all kinds of animals: monkeys and tigers and elephants, oh my. But the seeming lack of prey animals meant that there was probably a predator somewhere in the area; maybe one, or maybe an entire clan—that kept the prey in the area to a minimum. Perhaps there was a predator or species of predators that needed only to feed on remote occasions. Either that, or the distant possibility that the island was entirely devoid of organisms in the first place. That this was a totally planar ecosystem.

Not likely. A large percentage of the nitrogen needed to sustain the plants would come from decaying organisms

(like David’s wife and their baby)

and there was no doubt that this place had a fucking lot of foliage. There was abundant sea-life, no birds. Weird. A scientific oddity that even Renee couldn’t interpret, despite her vast and unflinching knowledge of the latest advances in science. It was all logic, when one came down to it; logic and Latin in a rather interdetermined mix.

David could relate; as far as English was concerned, that was.

David was building a fire hole when they came back; as soon as Renee saw him, her coconuts dropped into the sand like so many bowling balls. She flew into his arms (careful to not touch the blistering sun burns on his neck and shoulders), and even kissed his black, stiff stubble. He smelled fresh and clean—more than what Renee and Jon could say about themselves—and he had champagne bottles filled with Water. Renee knew that she should sip carefully, but oh oh it was so wonderful that, before she knew it, without even asking, she downed the whole thing. Her stomach flip-flopped and she vomited onto the sand. When she had a few, cautious sips a minute later, her parched lips soaking the moisture, she felt better. As if she had just finished making love. She plopped onto the sand, and shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand.

"Water? You. Found Water?" she asked. She had to inquire about the Water. Where in the fucking hell on this mysterious island had he found this crisp, clean H2O? They were saved. She could hardly get the words out; tears came before she even knew that she had the body liquid ratio to produce them. Jon was just as elated. He didn’t even mind picking up the coconuts Renee had dropped 80 feet back when he got a few swallows into his system.

"Yeah. There’s a stream about two miles to the, I’d say, southwest. I made a trail from there. I found it yesterday."

"Where did you go? How did you find your way back, without any kind of help, or anything?"

"I took a run last night. I don’t even remember where I was going. But yesterday, while I was preparing for, uh, Shannon, I noted the position of the moon. I remember it was to my back. So, when I wanted to come back, I followed the moon at the way it was to the overlook. I over judged a bit, but when I found the beach, I made my way back." He looked as if he had said too much. He bowed his head; Renee wondered why. As soon as she finished the thought, his head snapped up. He gave her a hurt look.

What?

"Uh—" he said quickly, returning to his work, digging a hole with the same shovel he had used to bury his wife and baby. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and said that later, with the authority of a father talking to eager children, that when he was done, he would take them to the Waterhole. He described the crispness of the Water, the way the rocks showed clear beneath the Waterfall that fell a full twenty feet into a large, clear pool where fish swam and you could see clear to the bottom. He talked about it romantically, almost as if recalling a sexual encounter. He told them to bring their bathing suits.

Renee could hardly wait.

The two men put Renee between them, David leading the way through the thick foliage and Jon bringing up the behind, as they made their way to the Waterhole. Part of her was happy and secure that she was between them, but the other part was offended. Why did they think her so weak, when she was probably more likely to survive than they were, giving her know-how and her—um—powers? Whatever they were. She didn’t know what to call her "ability", or the extent of them, for that matter. She was tempted to see if she could use It again, maybe to heal the sun burns on David’s so terribly burned back, but that wouldn’t do, would it? What would Jon and David think if they knew about her…gifts? Would it make her an outcast? The thought was remote, but anything was possible when one was just wondering how to survive. The rules changed when it was a battle of the fittest. It changed you. Makes you do things that you would never think of doing.

Maybe, more likely than abandoning her, they would use her. To do things. Renee did not know how far she could be pushed; what repercussions there were to using her powers often. She got fluttery sometimes; after healing David, she had felt the urgent need to lay down and sleep. After healing her mother that time so long ago, she had fallen into a coma for two months. The doctors had thought it was from shock, but they could no more explain that then how they could explain how Renee had gotten out of a car that would have required the Jaws of Life to escape from. Or, better even, how neither Renee or her mother—who had died— had any wounds. None.

Humans, contrary to proper belief, are primal. They use their instincts. Renee knew this rather well, which is why she partially excused the two males’ ridiculous behavior. She was, after all, the only female. Like any wild mammal, they were protecting the assurance of survival: she was a vehicle of reproduction. Though she was Jon’s wife, she was precious in that she could continue on their kind. Though cerebral, humans are animals, too.

Renee didn’t have to like it, though. She didn’t like it in the least, to be honest. David suddenly turned back towards her, giving her a look—almost—and Renee thought of this for the first time—as if he were reading her mind. It was a strange feeling, almost as if she was being probed. Not physically, but mentally. As if one of his fingers had reached through her pupil—her skull—and pressed a finger into the soft, gushy, gray matter that was her brain.

"Do you want to go in front? You can. I’ll lead you from behind," he told her. She pushed herself through the thick foliage

(rubbing her body against his, the leaves against them, pressing them together)

and in front of him. He lingered close behind; the tropical plants pushed them together from all sides. She took the machete from him and hacked fiercely. She didn’t want them to think that she was holding them up, and so soon forgot about the weird look, that weird feeling. She decided to experiment, and quickly found that she could use her power to part the plants. To snap them. She could do it. They moved along at a grand pace. She obviously had It back. Before she knew it, she was snapping leaves several feet in front of her, so that before she even got there they fell as if they were butter cut with a red-hot knife. When she got tired of using her power, David told her that they were finally almost there, and so she occupied herself with observing the foliage. Some plants she recognized, and some she did not. She had been a housewife for about two years now, giving her plenty of time to read up on the latest in science. She had been for a while thinking about a career in science, though she was unsure of what field to pursue. Coming back to this island, with its oddities, would fulfill her with a lifetime of study.

And a lifetime of memories.

If she ever got off the island.

The Waterhole was as magnificent, if not more so, than David described. They leaped into the Water—the crisp, cool, life-giving Water, and romped around like a couple of kids, splashing and filling their mouths with Water more crisp than they ever had before. The Waterfall fell, gallant and proud. For about half an hour, all three forgot about all that had happened in the past couple days, and reveled in this newfound joy. David ascended the rock ledge near the Waterfall, quickly and with ease. He jumped off of it, holding his nose, his legs flying, and splashed into the Water with a smack.

They all laughed. Renee saw him smile for the first time since Shannon’s death.

It was a fleeting smile, but a smile all the same. Renee wallowed in the Water, swimming in her new cranberry bikini. She had picked it out to accent her tan line on the crisp beaches in the Bahamas, but now she could give a fuck about her tan. Her face was much darker than the normal light almond that it usually was; she had a tan that included her arms, quite darkened, but not above her breasts; she had worn a tank top for the past couple of days. The same tank top. It was white, and after the initial romp in the Water, she left for a minute to retrieve the clothes the three had brought. She rinsed them out and placed them over the large branch of a leaf that hung, and made shade. They were all wearing their shoes, lest a crayfish bite them underneath the rocky bottom, and to protect their still sensitive feet from the biting edges of the rocks.

The crisp coldness of the Water had at first been wonderful, but as the sun became less vicious, David left the beach to put his shorts back on. He sat alone and skidded pebbles over the crisp Water. He enjoyed listening to the Waterfall. He was trying not to think of how Shannon would love this, and was failing miserably. He could see her blue eyes twinkling, and her jumping in fearlessly, though she was very pregnant. He could imagine her under the Waterfall, the rivulets running over her body. Caressing her stomach—

Pushing back a tear, he continued skidding his stones. He tried not to look at Renee, who was enveloped in Jon’s lanky arms as he ran his hands through her thick black hair underneath the Waterfall.

"Jon, don’t," she said simply. One of his hands was pulling down her bikini strap. She didn’t want to do that in front of David. For some reason, Jon was extremely horny. He kept kissing her on the neck. She didn’t want to think that it was because David could see, but she knew it was.

Or maybe it wasn’t. She wasn’t sure. Yet. She would be. Soon.

"What? I haven’t gotten to hold you. We’ve been too busy," he whispered softly as his hands wandered down over her slender, bare, cinnamon stomach and pressed.

"Jon." Her tone was warm.

"Mmmh?" She loved to be touched there, and he knew it. He rubbed her stomach until he felt her submission. Underneath the cold droplets, he continued to caress her.

David watched, eyes stony, as Jon tried, more subtly, to pull down her bikini strap. He kept doing it, and Renee didn’t struggle. He finally revealed one breast, in all its magnificence, until Renee slid the strap quickly back on and turned to him. She kissed him once, quickly, and waded out of the Water. Jon protested. Shot a look to David. Followed after her.

She pulled herself onto a large rock, and grabbed a towel that she had packed into her suitcase. Jon was not far behind. He hugged her from behind. David got up and put a shirt on. The moon was coming up. They would have to get home.

This time, Renee did not wonder why they had her in between them. She felt safer in the dark that way, and the walk was not nearly as difficult, having made a path the first time. It only took them fifteen minutes to make it back to the beach. They had Doritos, split a coconut (which they were already all more than sick of), and a dried mussel each. David started a fire with the lighter, and they sat, shivering and waiting to dry off. Renee huddled next to Jon and looked over at David through the licking fire. He was staring into it thoughtfully. His chest and shoulders were a burning, bright red, the burns already beginning to peel. She knew that she could not heal them, but wanted to more than anything.

There came that feeling again, that Finger. He looked up at her abruptly. "They don’t hurt that much," he said, referring to the burns. "Don’t worry about it. I’m tough."

"I didn’t say anything."

Silence. David drew his eyebrows together and pretended to be confused. For the first time in years, he had made a mistake. He never made mistakes, never messed up when he used It…He could have sworn he heard her voice…

Jon’s eyes were half-closed; he was falling asleep. "Well, I’m going to bed," David said. He took a blanket and, laying down into the sand, covered himself with it. Renee deadened the fire with seawater, and then snuggled with Jon not far away.

The shivers started as the night deepened and the fire died, choking on the ashes. The shivers always came. The landscape that was so hot and burning during the day became cold, arctic, almost. Renee found herself hungering for Jon’s body heat, burrowing into him for traces of warmth. He was warmer than she was, but not by much. During the night, Renee woke up from a startled dream

(that same dream with the Cheshire cat)

to hear David. His teeth were chattering. She went to his place, rubbing her goosebumps as if she could wear them down. He was shivering, his lips blue. She looked over at Jon. His hands were groping for her, as if she were still there. She knelt down before David, and shook him until he awoke with a start. He settled onto his elbow as his eyes perused her, half-questioning. Half-startled. His pink, perfect lips stuttered. He ran a hand through his hair, trying, Renee was sure, not to look at her body.

Goddammit Renee just wishful thinking

She suddenly wondered why she had done this. Jon would never accept it. It would just widen the gap between the trio. But they all had to survive. It wouldn’t do if David got hypothermia. Jon would just have to understand.

"Come on. You’ll be warm."

It was all she had to say. Her and David got his blanket, and brought it over to Jon. They woke Jon up and Renee said that David was gonna stay with them because he was cold. Jon simply helped them put the two blankets together. They all laid down, then, Renee once again between David and Jon. Jon was on his side, towards her, and pulled her into him with a vigilance Renee didn’t necessarily like. Jon put his face over hers, said "Goodnight" to David, kissed her on the cheek, and wrapped a leg over her, as if he were going to absorb her. Renee felt David rub against her to roll onto his stomach, because of the burns that so ravaged his back. Her face buried into Jon’s bony chest, Renee realized that there was no way out. She was sure of it when she felt a stiffening bump protruding from Jon and into her lower stomach. If they did not get off of that island soon, she was going to be in big trouble.

She was right.

And all she could think of was the truth that David would never do this to his wife.

He would do what Jon would never: he would trust.