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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
-----
Jarod slid the matchbox open and frowned at its contents—at the two matches that were tucked inside. Realizing he had limited chances, he carefully removed one, eyed the pile of wood and weeds, and then struck the match. The small stems of the dry grass crippled and burned, but within seconds, they burnt out.
“Shit,” Jarod cursed, sitting back on his haunches. A shadow passed over him and he tilted his head up to look at the brunette.
“Is man having trouble creating fire?” Parker asked with a tilt of her head.
“I only have one match left.”
“Gee, that’s tough.”
Jarod glared at her for a moment and then dropped his eyes to stare at the stacked wood helplessly. “I suppose I could do it the hard way. With stones and sticks …”
Flick. Flick. Swish.
At the sound, Jarod looked up, his face dropping as he watched her light a cigarette. Releasing the lighter button, she held it out and grinned down at him around the stick in her mouth.
He stood abruptly and yanked it away from her. “Your cigarettes are dry, I see.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, her only response.
“You could have told me you had your lighter on you sooner.”
“And what—skip this fun? Never,” she said, mirroring his words the previous day.
Jarod shook his head and then lowered himself back to his task. As he moved around the pile, lighting as much as he could, he said almost hesitantly, “Why didn’t you let me pilot the plane?”
Parker gave him a quick look before she moved over to a large piece of drift wood, inspecting it uninterestedly. It was a moment later when she answered, “I thought you would try to escape.”
“Liar.”
She spun to look at him, her blue eyes wide. “Don’t analyze me, Boy Wonder, and don’t you dare try to make this something that it’s not. I went with my instincts, plain and simple.”
“Y’know, with a little nicer attitude, this experience might be endurable.”
“Go to hell, Lab Rat.”
Jarod looked at her sharply. “What is your problem?”
“My problem?” she repeated loudly, her eyes wide. “You want to know my PROBLEM?” She wheeled around and threw her arms in the air, indicating her surroundings. “THIS is my problem!”
“Parker—”
“I’m stuck on a God-forsaken island,” she went on, “With two and half men, a water-jammed gun, three cigarettes and a ruined three-hundred-dollar pair of shoes. Not to mention, my best sweeper is DEAD.” She paused for a moment, her face softening, her shoulders dropping as if it had just dawned on her. “Sam is dead …”
She wordlessly lowered herself onto the drift wood, the cigarette in her hand suddenly forgotten, and Jarod gazed at her with concern. For a moment, she just gazed at the sand around her bare feet, unmoving, before Jarod bravely said, “I’m sorry.”
Parker snorted bitterly. “I’m sure you are, Jarod.”
“I am,” he insisted and she lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Sam was a good man,” she whispered. “Now, he’s dead.” She held eye contact, firmly saying, “Because of you.”
He flinched. “What?”
“You hadn’t been out in the middle of God knows where …”
“I didn’t ask for you to come here.”
“You should have stayed put—where you BELONG. Then we wouldn’t have had to chase your sorry ass all over the damn pacific, crash and then stay on a shit-strip of an island.”
“Y’know, I might have been able to fly the plane. I could have fixed it.”
“Bullshit!” she snapped, tossing her cigarette away angrily. “You know as well as I do there was no fixing it. We were going down no matter what.”
“I could have tried.”
“No, you couldn’t have!”
“Yes, I could have!”
“Then, instead of Sam, I would have lost YOU!”
She flinched at her own words and quickly looked away, gazing at the rolling waves lapping at the beach. Her eyes bore into the teal water and the muscle in her jaw twitched, before she added, “And without you …” She paused to take a breath and turned her eyes on him. “Without you, I’m no use to the Centre.”
Jarod blinked. Something inside him deflated and he gave a wry laugh. “Right,” he replied, turning back to the growing fire. “The Centre. That’s what everything is about, isn’t it?”
Parker stared at him, her face etched like marble. “It’s all we have.”
Jarod looked back up at her, but before he could answer, Broots and Sydney appeared from out of the tree lines, carting large armfuls of wood. Once they had dropped their bundles next to the fire, Broots flopped down in the sand while Sydney remained standing, gazing at the flames.
“It’s looking good,” Sydney commented.
“We’ll need to maintain it,” Jarod replied. He looked up, meeting the eyes of each face. “We’ll have to take shifts to make sure it doesn’t go out.” After their nods, Jarod pushed himself to his feet and heaved a sigh. “We should probably go in search for food.”
“Yes! Food, I’m starved!” Broots piped in.
“Let’s split up, but don’t move too far from the beach,” Jarod said, looking between Sydney and Parker. He then dropped his eyes to the tech. “You can have the first fire shift. Just make sure it doesn’t go out.”
“Sure,” Broots replied.
“While you’re at it, Gilligan,” Parker said to Broots as she passed, “You can start on the cocoanut radio.”
“The professor.”
She stopped and tossed a look over her shoulder. “What?”
Broots cleared his throat. “It was … er … the professor that made the inventions.”
Parker gazed at him for another beat before she rolled her eyes and walked away. Broots caught Sydney giving him that half-smile. “What?” Broots asked him, before the older man followed after the pretender and brunette, still smiling.
-----
“Jarod, wait up,” Sydney huffed, struggling to gain on the younger man’s wide strides. Jarod gave him a quick look and continued walking without faltering his gate, but Sydney went on talking regardless of his protégé’s little interest, “I want to talk to you about yesterday.”
“What about it?” Jarod asked, looking straight ahead.
“I just want you to know … that my actions were done purely out of good intentions. I only want what’s best for you.”
Jarod turned his head and gazed at the man. “By putting me back in the Centre?”
“Jarod, the world is a cruel place—”
Jarod barked in wry laughter and abruptly turned away. “That’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I’m just worried about you,” Sydney continued. “What if one of your pretends got you killed?”
“If I were to go back to the Centre, I would surely die.”
“Jarod—”
“Sydney,” Jarod snapped, cutting him off, “This conversation is too little, too late, and just in case you haven’t noticed, we’re on an island. So, let’s save it for AFTER we’re out of here.” Jarod paused and then added, “Oh, and you’re horrible at apologies.”
Sydney came to a stop and watched with a frown as the younger man walked away. After a moment, he sighed and veered his direction, pushing his way into the thick wooded area in search of anything edible.
----
“When the night … has come,” Broots sang to himself, poking a stick in the fire, “And the land is dark. And the moon … is the only … light we’ll see.” Embers lifted out of the large pile of wood, drifting through the air and slowly dimming to nothing. The fire crackled comfortingly, the only witness, so he had thought, to his rendition of “Stand By Me.”
He went on, tone death and with his eyes closed. “No, I won’t! Be afraid! No, I won’t … be afraid! Just as long, as you stand—”
“Broots!”
“Holy Jesus!”
He spun his head around, finding Parker standing over him with a predatory gleam in her eye. Behind her, Sydney and Jarod stood, looking a little more empathetic toward the balding man. Shifting his eyes back to the brunette, Broots gazed at her wide-eyed and then cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Uh, how did your—”
“Ask, and you WILL have something to be afraid of,” she retorted, before lifting out her hand, revealing a handkerchief full of berries. “Eat.”
“Oh, thank you!” he gasped, gratefully taking the bundle.
The three lowered themselves down in the sand several feet away from the heat of the fire, Broots taking their example and doing the same. They all fell into a silence as they ate, each gazing into the fire and thinking the same thing: survival.
It wasn’t until the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting an orange glow, did they break the silence, and Jarod was the first to break it.
“We should make some kind of shelter.”
“Wonderful,” Parker griped. “I’m going to have to sleep with you three.”
“Could be worse,” Broots spoke up. “We could have been stranded here with Mr. Lyle.” He laughed a little, but quieted when the three just glared at him. He cleared his throat. “Too soon?”
“Broots—shut up.”
“Yes ma’am.”
---
Broots woke with a start the next morning and stared at the blanket they had put up for an overhang the previous night. Turning in the sand, he realized he was the only one still lying there and he shot up to look around. Sydney was standing by the fire, tossing more wood into its consuming flames. Jarod was standing in the water, with his pants rolled to his knees, and was looking out with his hands on his hips. And Parker was no where in sight.
Broots rolled out from their little make-shift shelter and brushed the sand off his clothes, before he walked over to Sydney’s side. “G’morning,” he mumbled.
“Morning Broots,” Sydney greeted. “How did you sleep?”
“Truthfully?” Broots asked, rubbing his neck. He made a show of looking around. “Where’s Miss Parker?”
“Trying to find a suitable urinal,” Sydney smirked.
Broots snorted. “I’d love to see what she came up with.”
“Would you, now?” she said behind him. Broots jumped and spun to face her, and instantly gave her a sheepish smile. She just tilted her head at him, her mouth in a firm line.
“Ah, Miss Parker,” Broots began uncomfortably, “Did you sleep well?”
As if he had to ask; she was quite the sight compared to her usual sharp exterior. Her blouse was untucked and partly-buttoned, her hair and make-up were disarrayed, and her mid-thigh length skirt was wrinkled and beyond repair. Miss Parker—to put it simply—looked like a wreck.
She lifted up a hand, palm out, and briefly closed her eyes. “Spare me,” she said. “I don’t have the energy to be cruel right now.”
“That’s a blessing,” Jarod said, walking up to them.
“Can it, Captain Coconuts,” she seethed. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched the pretender with narrowed eyes as he poked the fire with a stick. “Weren’t you supposed to wake me during the night for my shift?”
Jarod gave a shrug and answered her without looking up, “I wasn’t tired. So, I decided to keep going.”
Parker exchanged a quick look with Sydney, before she decided to change the subject. “So, what now?”
“We should probably explore the island,” he said, dropping the stick he had been using into the fire. He brushed his hands together and looked up at them. “Maybe we might find something that’ll be useful.”
“Like what—a seven-eleven?”
“No,” Jarod replied heatedly. “Maybe a sign of civilization.”
“Right,” Parker sighed. “Well, while you romp through the jungle searching for life, I’ll be right here.”
“Fine,” Jarod snapped. Turning his head, he looked directly at Broots, who returned his gaze wide-eyed. “Mr. Broots, you’re with me.”
“What?” Broots barked.
Jarod didn’t bother to reply and began to walk off toward the tree lines. With a groan, Broots had no choice but to follow him.
---
“Y’know Jarod,” Broots began, struggling to keep up with him as they trudged through the thick underbrush. “I envy you.”
Jarod shot him a look over his shoulder, his eyebrows drawn together. “Why is that?”
“You are the only person that I know that can say what he wants, when he wants, to Miss Parker … and survive to tell about it.”
Jarod smirked and ducked under a low branch, before replying, “Well, there is one thing you need to know about Miss Parker: her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Yeah, but it’s a pretty mean bark.”
Jarod flashed the tech a smile and slowed his pace, allowing Broots to catch up. “Do you think we could get her a muzzle?”
“That would be swell. Maybe even a choke-collar.”
Jarod laughed. “Maybe,” he said, as he continued pushing his way through the vegetation. “Question is: how will we get it on her?”
Broots threw up his hands. “Don’t look at me!”
Their walking slowed when they came up to the edge of a river and they turned their heads upstream and downstream. Jarod put his hands on his hips and sighed.
“Which way?”
Broots flinched. “You’re asking ME?”
Jarod turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised. After a moment, Broots shrugged and mumbled, “Upstream.”
“Upstream, it is,” Jarod replied, turning and walking in the indicated direction. Broots smiled a little, squared his shoulders and followed after him.
Several minutes went by before Broots spoke again, voicing his thoughts, “I hope Debbie is okay.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“God, I hope I see her again.”
Jarod paused in his walking and gave him a look over his shoulder, his face sincere. “You will. I promise.”
Broots nodded and smiled uneasily, before continuing after him up the soft incline of the river bed. Broots watched his feet for a moment, before he commented, “Thanks, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For … y’know, the whole custody thing. I don’t know if I really got the chance to thank you for it.”
“Your welcome.”
“Being a father,” Broots commented, looking up at the blue sky with a proud smile, “It’s the best thing that’s happened to me.”
“Good,” Jarod said. “Most fathers … they take such a gift for granted.”
“I can’t imagine how.” Broots paused and strained his ears, before he asked, “Do you hear that?”
They both stopped and looked ahead, fascinated to find the river led up to a beautiful waterfall that fell from jagged rocks. They stared for a moment, before Broots whistled in appreciation.
“That’s gorgeous.”
Jarod pointed out a thin trail across the water, which led up a steep incline to a rocky ledge high above the falls. “Let’s climb up. Maybe we’ll be able to see the island better from up there.”
“You want to ... swim across?”
Jarod looked around, before giving the man a look. “I don’t see any other way.”
Broots gulped as he looked at the climb. “That’s kind of steep.”
“Are you up for it, Mr. Broots?”
“No,” he sighed, “But, that’s never stopped me.”
Jarod gave him a small smile, before he jerked his head in the direction. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Jarod carefully waded into the water, closely followed by Broots, and began to swim across the river that felt good against their sun-assaulted skin. They were halfway across when Broots felt something brush against his back and he yelped in surprise.
“Oh my god!” he shouted, doggy paddling as hard as he could after Jarod. “Gator!” he squeaked. “I think there’s a gator!”
“A what?”
“An alligator!” Broots shouted.
Jarod reached the other side and climbed up the bank, spinning around to pull Broots up with him. Both men stared at the water intently, waiting for movement. Then they saw it, a long, dark form drifting over the surface of the water.
It was a log.
Jarod frowned at Broots, who gave him a sheepish smile.
“C’mon,” Jarod grumbled, turning around and starting for the trail.
They began their ascent, carefully climbing up to the top to the rocky ledge above. Broots struggled to keep close behind, praying that his grip or his footing would not slip. Luckily, they both made the long climb safely and found themselves standing high above the water and most of the trees.
Moving closer to the ledge, Jarod could make out the ocean above the large vast cluster of green foliage, looking like a blue blanket disappearing into oblivion. Jarod drifted his eyes over it, feeling a little bit of dread to see such a vastness, when he stilled.
His breath hitched. “Broots.”
Broots looked up from the waterfall beneath them and gave Jarod a sideways look. “What?”
“Broots—there’s a ship.”
“A ship?” Broots exclaimed, moving next to him. He squinted into the distance and then gasped when he spotted it moving toward the island. “Oh my god! A ship!”
“We need to get down there!” Jarod exclaimed, turning back for the trail. “C’mon!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice!”
---
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Jarod slid the matchbox open and frowned at its contents—at the two matches that were tucked inside. Realizing he had limited chances, he carefully removed one, eyed the pile of wood and weeds, and then struck the match. The small stems of the dry grass crippled and burned, but within seconds, they burnt out.
“Shit,” Jarod cursed, sitting back on his haunches. A shadow passed over him and he tilted his head up to look at the brunette.
“Is man having trouble creating fire?” Parker asked with a tilt of her head.
“I only have one match left.”
“Gee, that’s tough.”
Jarod glared at her for a moment and then dropped his eyes to stare at the stacked wood helplessly. “I suppose I could do it the hard way. With stones and sticks …”
Flick. Flick. Swish.
At the sound, Jarod looked up, his face dropping as he watched her light a cigarette. Releasing the lighter button, she held it out and grinned down at him around the stick in her mouth.
He stood abruptly and yanked it away from her. “Your cigarettes are dry, I see.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, her only response.
“You could have told me you had your lighter on you sooner.”
“And what—skip this fun? Never,” she said, mirroring his words the previous day.
Jarod shook his head and then lowered himself back to his task. As he moved around the pile, lighting as much as he could, he said almost hesitantly, “Why didn’t you let me pilot the plane?”
Parker gave him a quick look before she moved over to a large piece of drift wood, inspecting it uninterestedly. It was a moment later when she answered, “I thought you would try to escape.”
“Liar.”
She spun to look at him, her blue eyes wide. “Don’t analyze me, Boy Wonder, and don’t you dare try to make this something that it’s not. I went with my instincts, plain and simple.”
“Y’know, with a little nicer attitude, this experience might be endurable.”
“Go to hell, Lab Rat.”
Jarod looked at her sharply. “What is your problem?”
“My problem?” she repeated loudly, her eyes wide. “You want to know my PROBLEM?” She wheeled around and threw her arms in the air, indicating her surroundings. “THIS is my problem!”
“Parker—”
“I’m stuck on a God-forsaken island,” she went on, “With two and half men, a water-jammed gun, three cigarettes and a ruined three-hundred-dollar pair of shoes. Not to mention, my best sweeper is DEAD.” She paused for a moment, her face softening, her shoulders dropping as if it had just dawned on her. “Sam is dead …”
She wordlessly lowered herself onto the drift wood, the cigarette in her hand suddenly forgotten, and Jarod gazed at her with concern. For a moment, she just gazed at the sand around her bare feet, unmoving, before Jarod bravely said, “I’m sorry.”
Parker snorted bitterly. “I’m sure you are, Jarod.”
“I am,” he insisted and she lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Sam was a good man,” she whispered. “Now, he’s dead.” She held eye contact, firmly saying, “Because of you.”
He flinched. “What?”
“You hadn’t been out in the middle of God knows where …”
“I didn’t ask for you to come here.”
“You should have stayed put—where you BELONG. Then we wouldn’t have had to chase your sorry ass all over the damn pacific, crash and then stay on a shit-strip of an island.”
“Y’know, I might have been able to fly the plane. I could have fixed it.”
“Bullshit!” she snapped, tossing her cigarette away angrily. “You know as well as I do there was no fixing it. We were going down no matter what.”
“I could have tried.”
“No, you couldn’t have!”
“Yes, I could have!”
“Then, instead of Sam, I would have lost YOU!”
She flinched at her own words and quickly looked away, gazing at the rolling waves lapping at the beach. Her eyes bore into the teal water and the muscle in her jaw twitched, before she added, “And without you …” She paused to take a breath and turned her eyes on him. “Without you, I’m no use to the Centre.”
Jarod blinked. Something inside him deflated and he gave a wry laugh. “Right,” he replied, turning back to the growing fire. “The Centre. That’s what everything is about, isn’t it?”
Parker stared at him, her face etched like marble. “It’s all we have.”
Jarod looked back up at her, but before he could answer, Broots and Sydney appeared from out of the tree lines, carting large armfuls of wood. Once they had dropped their bundles next to the fire, Broots flopped down in the sand while Sydney remained standing, gazing at the flames.
“It’s looking good,” Sydney commented.
“We’ll need to maintain it,” Jarod replied. He looked up, meeting the eyes of each face. “We’ll have to take shifts to make sure it doesn’t go out.” After their nods, Jarod pushed himself to his feet and heaved a sigh. “We should probably go in search for food.”
“Yes! Food, I’m starved!” Broots piped in.
“Let’s split up, but don’t move too far from the beach,” Jarod said, looking between Sydney and Parker. He then dropped his eyes to the tech. “You can have the first fire shift. Just make sure it doesn’t go out.”
“Sure,” Broots replied.
“While you’re at it, Gilligan,” Parker said to Broots as she passed, “You can start on the cocoanut radio.”
“The professor.”
She stopped and tossed a look over her shoulder. “What?”
Broots cleared his throat. “It was … er … the professor that made the inventions.”
Parker gazed at him for another beat before she rolled her eyes and walked away. Broots caught Sydney giving him that half-smile. “What?” Broots asked him, before the older man followed after the pretender and brunette, still smiling.
-----
“Jarod, wait up,” Sydney huffed, struggling to gain on the younger man’s wide strides. Jarod gave him a quick look and continued walking without faltering his gate, but Sydney went on talking regardless of his protégé’s little interest, “I want to talk to you about yesterday.”
“What about it?” Jarod asked, looking straight ahead.
“I just want you to know … that my actions were done purely out of good intentions. I only want what’s best for you.”
Jarod turned his head and gazed at the man. “By putting me back in the Centre?”
“Jarod, the world is a cruel place—”
Jarod barked in wry laughter and abruptly turned away. “That’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I’m just worried about you,” Sydney continued. “What if one of your pretends got you killed?”
“If I were to go back to the Centre, I would surely die.”
“Jarod—”
“Sydney,” Jarod snapped, cutting him off, “This conversation is too little, too late, and just in case you haven’t noticed, we’re on an island. So, let’s save it for AFTER we’re out of here.” Jarod paused and then added, “Oh, and you’re horrible at apologies.”
Sydney came to a stop and watched with a frown as the younger man walked away. After a moment, he sighed and veered his direction, pushing his way into the thick wooded area in search of anything edible.
----
“When the night … has come,” Broots sang to himself, poking a stick in the fire, “And the land is dark. And the moon … is the only … light we’ll see.” Embers lifted out of the large pile of wood, drifting through the air and slowly dimming to nothing. The fire crackled comfortingly, the only witness, so he had thought, to his rendition of “Stand By Me.”
He went on, tone death and with his eyes closed. “No, I won’t! Be afraid! No, I won’t … be afraid! Just as long, as you stand—”
“Broots!”
“Holy Jesus!”
He spun his head around, finding Parker standing over him with a predatory gleam in her eye. Behind her, Sydney and Jarod stood, looking a little more empathetic toward the balding man. Shifting his eyes back to the brunette, Broots gazed at her wide-eyed and then cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Uh, how did your—”
“Ask, and you WILL have something to be afraid of,” she retorted, before lifting out her hand, revealing a handkerchief full of berries. “Eat.”
“Oh, thank you!” he gasped, gratefully taking the bundle.
The three lowered themselves down in the sand several feet away from the heat of the fire, Broots taking their example and doing the same. They all fell into a silence as they ate, each gazing into the fire and thinking the same thing: survival.
It wasn’t until the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting an orange glow, did they break the silence, and Jarod was the first to break it.
“We should make some kind of shelter.”
“Wonderful,” Parker griped. “I’m going to have to sleep with you three.”
“Could be worse,” Broots spoke up. “We could have been stranded here with Mr. Lyle.” He laughed a little, but quieted when the three just glared at him. He cleared his throat. “Too soon?”
“Broots—shut up.”
“Yes ma’am.”
---
Broots woke with a start the next morning and stared at the blanket they had put up for an overhang the previous night. Turning in the sand, he realized he was the only one still lying there and he shot up to look around. Sydney was standing by the fire, tossing more wood into its consuming flames. Jarod was standing in the water, with his pants rolled to his knees, and was looking out with his hands on his hips. And Parker was no where in sight.
Broots rolled out from their little make-shift shelter and brushed the sand off his clothes, before he walked over to Sydney’s side. “G’morning,” he mumbled.
“Morning Broots,” Sydney greeted. “How did you sleep?”
“Truthfully?” Broots asked, rubbing his neck. He made a show of looking around. “Where’s Miss Parker?”
“Trying to find a suitable urinal,” Sydney smirked.
Broots snorted. “I’d love to see what she came up with.”
“Would you, now?” she said behind him. Broots jumped and spun to face her, and instantly gave her a sheepish smile. She just tilted her head at him, her mouth in a firm line.
“Ah, Miss Parker,” Broots began uncomfortably, “Did you sleep well?”
As if he had to ask; she was quite the sight compared to her usual sharp exterior. Her blouse was untucked and partly-buttoned, her hair and make-up were disarrayed, and her mid-thigh length skirt was wrinkled and beyond repair. Miss Parker—to put it simply—looked like a wreck.
She lifted up a hand, palm out, and briefly closed her eyes. “Spare me,” she said. “I don’t have the energy to be cruel right now.”
“That’s a blessing,” Jarod said, walking up to them.
“Can it, Captain Coconuts,” she seethed. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched the pretender with narrowed eyes as he poked the fire with a stick. “Weren’t you supposed to wake me during the night for my shift?”
Jarod gave a shrug and answered her without looking up, “I wasn’t tired. So, I decided to keep going.”
Parker exchanged a quick look with Sydney, before she decided to change the subject. “So, what now?”
“We should probably explore the island,” he said, dropping the stick he had been using into the fire. He brushed his hands together and looked up at them. “Maybe we might find something that’ll be useful.”
“Like what—a seven-eleven?”
“No,” Jarod replied heatedly. “Maybe a sign of civilization.”
“Right,” Parker sighed. “Well, while you romp through the jungle searching for life, I’ll be right here.”
“Fine,” Jarod snapped. Turning his head, he looked directly at Broots, who returned his gaze wide-eyed. “Mr. Broots, you’re with me.”
“What?” Broots barked.
Jarod didn’t bother to reply and began to walk off toward the tree lines. With a groan, Broots had no choice but to follow him.
---
“Y’know Jarod,” Broots began, struggling to keep up with him as they trudged through the thick underbrush. “I envy you.”
Jarod shot him a look over his shoulder, his eyebrows drawn together. “Why is that?”
“You are the only person that I know that can say what he wants, when he wants, to Miss Parker … and survive to tell about it.”
Jarod smirked and ducked under a low branch, before replying, “Well, there is one thing you need to know about Miss Parker: her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Yeah, but it’s a pretty mean bark.”
Jarod flashed the tech a smile and slowed his pace, allowing Broots to catch up. “Do you think we could get her a muzzle?”
“That would be swell. Maybe even a choke-collar.”
Jarod laughed. “Maybe,” he said, as he continued pushing his way through the vegetation. “Question is: how will we get it on her?”
Broots threw up his hands. “Don’t look at me!”
Their walking slowed when they came up to the edge of a river and they turned their heads upstream and downstream. Jarod put his hands on his hips and sighed.
“Which way?”
Broots flinched. “You’re asking ME?”
Jarod turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised. After a moment, Broots shrugged and mumbled, “Upstream.”
“Upstream, it is,” Jarod replied, turning and walking in the indicated direction. Broots smiled a little, squared his shoulders and followed after him.
Several minutes went by before Broots spoke again, voicing his thoughts, “I hope Debbie is okay.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“God, I hope I see her again.”
Jarod paused in his walking and gave him a look over his shoulder, his face sincere. “You will. I promise.”
Broots nodded and smiled uneasily, before continuing after him up the soft incline of the river bed. Broots watched his feet for a moment, before he commented, “Thanks, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For … y’know, the whole custody thing. I don’t know if I really got the chance to thank you for it.”
“Your welcome.”
“Being a father,” Broots commented, looking up at the blue sky with a proud smile, “It’s the best thing that’s happened to me.”
“Good,” Jarod said. “Most fathers … they take such a gift for granted.”
“I can’t imagine how.” Broots paused and strained his ears, before he asked, “Do you hear that?”
They both stopped and looked ahead, fascinated to find the river led up to a beautiful waterfall that fell from jagged rocks. They stared for a moment, before Broots whistled in appreciation.
“That’s gorgeous.”
Jarod pointed out a thin trail across the water, which led up a steep incline to a rocky ledge high above the falls. “Let’s climb up. Maybe we’ll be able to see the island better from up there.”
“You want to ... swim across?”
Jarod looked around, before giving the man a look. “I don’t see any other way.”
Broots gulped as he looked at the climb. “That’s kind of steep.”
“Are you up for it, Mr. Broots?”
“No,” he sighed, “But, that’s never stopped me.”
Jarod gave him a small smile, before he jerked his head in the direction. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Jarod carefully waded into the water, closely followed by Broots, and began to swim across the river that felt good against their sun-assaulted skin. They were halfway across when Broots felt something brush against his back and he yelped in surprise.
“Oh my god!” he shouted, doggy paddling as hard as he could after Jarod. “Gator!” he squeaked. “I think there’s a gator!”
“A what?”
“An alligator!” Broots shouted.
Jarod reached the other side and climbed up the bank, spinning around to pull Broots up with him. Both men stared at the water intently, waiting for movement. Then they saw it, a long, dark form drifting over the surface of the water.
It was a log.
Jarod frowned at Broots, who gave him a sheepish smile.
“C’mon,” Jarod grumbled, turning around and starting for the trail.
They began their ascent, carefully climbing up to the top to the rocky ledge above. Broots struggled to keep close behind, praying that his grip or his footing would not slip. Luckily, they both made the long climb safely and found themselves standing high above the water and most of the trees.
Moving closer to the ledge, Jarod could make out the ocean above the large vast cluster of green foliage, looking like a blue blanket disappearing into oblivion. Jarod drifted his eyes over it, feeling a little bit of dread to see such a vastness, when he stilled.
His breath hitched. “Broots.”
Broots looked up from the waterfall beneath them and gave Jarod a sideways look. “What?”
“Broots—there’s a ship.”
“A ship?” Broots exclaimed, moving next to him. He squinted into the distance and then gasped when he spotted it moving toward the island. “Oh my god! A ship!”
“We need to get down there!” Jarod exclaimed, turning back for the trail. “C’mon!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice!”
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