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“A territory you have been getting in and out with ease. Albeit you got caught, just like you got caught by Hawthornes security, and now we’re all here in the same damn basket with you. So we are doing things based on decisions I make for your own safety. One more fuck-up, and I won’t be able to control what the others decide for you.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?” Astro looks at us incredulously. “Did I crash that bloody flippin’ plane?”
I remain silent because Foster admitted the truth of what we all feel.
The crashing of waves onto the shore fills the silence.
“Well?” Astro waits, but instead I pick up my shirt I had drying on the tree branch and put it on.
Eve and Zane go to the child and sit with her, showing her how to throw seashells into an empty coconut shell. Jack heads to the tools and weapons area while Foster goes back into the hut to grab his boots. Each of us resumes our tasks, leaving the London criminal standing like a bewildered totem pole, rigid and out of place amidst our purposeful activity.
“You’re all arseholes,” Astro mutters, snatching the knife Jack left on the stone we use for cutting our food. With a swift motion, he hurls it at the trunk of a palm tree. His aim is impressive, but no one is willing to give him the attention he craves. Instead, we continue with our chores, letting Astro stew in his own frustrated juices.
“Do you think we’ll find anything about the borders which the others hadn’t yesterday?” Eve asks as we trek through the jungle. I stop momentarily and look at Zane. He shrugs his shoulder at her, but his eye catches mine.
They told me about the pilot they found, but we all decided against telling Eve. I remove my newfound glasses, which the guys found from the plane wreck, swipe the sweat off my brow, and am about to reply, but something else catches my eye.
It can’t be.
Putting on my glasses to see better, I push aside the thick vines and gaze down, confused at the fruit before me.
Approaching the cluster of watermelons with cautious excitement, I crouch down, my muscles protesting from the exertion of our journey, and pluck one of the ripest fruits from the vine, its weight reassuringly heavy in my palms. Its vibrant green hues are a stark contrast to the surrounding foliage.
I hear the others approach either side of me.
“Zane, can I use the knife? If this is truly a watermelon, then it can be a resourceful way to hydrate ourselves other than using the coconuts and the water from the lagoon.”
“What is a watermelon doing growing in the middle of the jungle?” Eve asks.
“I don’t know,” I shake my head. “I’m just as perplexed as you are. There are so many unexplainable bizarre things on this island. This jungle, for example, is humid and damp as if we’re in the African basin, but there is no ocean in the Congo,” I explain, taking the knife Zane hands me.
Eagerly, I slice through the thick rind, releasing a burst of sweet, juicy aroma into the humid air. As the melon splits open, revealing its succulent yellow flesh glistening with moisture, my parched lips curl into a grateful smile.
“It’s yellow,” Zane says, confused.
“I’ve had yellow watermelons before,” Eve confirms. “They’re not as sweet as the red, but still pretty refreshing.
I cut a small piece and pop it in my mouth. Closing my eyes, I savor the cool, revitalizing essence of the fruit, a much-needed oasis in the heart of this hotjungle.
“Is it that good?” Zane asks skeptically.
I cut a large chunk of the fruit and hand it to him. He looks at me uncertainly, but Eve grabs it from my hand and immediately bites into it, her face lighting up as she lets out an exaggerated "ahh" and "ohh," clearly relishing the refreshing fruit.
I grin at Zane, who stares at her with amusement.
“Oh my God!” she exclaims with delight. “This has got to be the best watermelon I’ve ever had!”
“Okay, I’m hooked. I need to orgasm the same as her,” Zane huffs a laugh, and I chuckle as I cut him a slice and hand it over.
“Damn, it’s good,” Zane says, biting into it as he leans against the trunk of a tree.
Eve finds a spot to sit, and I join her on the ground.
We eat the remainder of the melon in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. My mind buzzes with a mix of contemplation and exhaustion.
"I don't know how much longer we can keep this up," I mutter, casting a weary glance at the endless expanse of greenery stretching before us. “We’ve been searching for hours. Yesterday’s expedition didn’t lead to any answers either.”
“Maybe it's just superstitions,” Zane says, referring to the invisible border.
