Page 89 of Shipwrecked

Voices blur together. Then something freezing is placed on my forehead. I try to remove it.

Someone catches my wrist, and it hurts like it’s being clamped in a vice grip. The muscle is dying.

“The snakebite,” Jules says. “Look at it.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Jules

In just an hour, Cillian worsens. All the reassuring things I was telling myself about him being fine in the morning go up in smoke: he’s sweating buckets, trembling, hot enough to cook his brain, and is completely incoherent.

Outside the hut in the evening light, everyone is gathered. Darren is among the group, and I don’t even care why or how. Right now, Darren knowing where I’m sleeping doesn’t matter. My hand slides to the belt beneath my shirt. The reassuring shape of Cillian’s survival knife. It can’t help anyone now.

“Can you remember what type of snake it was?” Seán asks. He’s at Cillian’s side, the med kit gutted on the bed. I know what’s in the kit. So does Seán. Knowing what type of snake it was doesn’t matter because even if there’s an antivenom, we don’t have it.

Mathieu replaces the cloth on Cillian’s forehead with a fresh one. He smooths back his sweat-sticky hair so tenderly I have to tear my eyes away from them.

“I don’t know,” I say. “It was dark. Cillian said it was one of the grey racers, but it looked green to me.”

A weak cough splutters out of Cillian. Mathieu rests his hand on his shoulder to stop him thrashing. I stare. A few hours ago, Cillian was the strongest man on the island. A beacon of safety. Punctured by a snakebite.

“He needs a hospital,” I say.

There’s a flash of genuine fear in Seán’s eyes. He looks at the med kit again, as if something new might magically have appeared. What if he dies? After only being here because I asked Seán to bring his “hot” cousin along? After I broke that fucking phone?

I tear my eyes away from Cillian and leave the hut. Everyone turns to me for an update.

“He needs a rescue. Right now,” I say. “Ideas?”

I’m desperate. If there were ideas, we’d have done them already. We—

The bonfire. The bonfire on the top of the mountain. I look toward the top of the hill. It won’t be long before the light fades from the sky. Realistically, getting out there and building a fire will take a few hours, so it would need to wait until morning.

My gut is telling me we don’t have that long.

“I said something like this would happen.” Darren’s voice cuts through my panic.

“Fuck yourself, Darren,” Mary says. “Just because we’re letting you stand there doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten what you did. Either be quiet or get lost.”

Darren shoots her a glare, and Charles leaps to his feet, getting between them. “Don’t look at my girlfriend like that. We can still see the bruises you left on Jules, you piece of shit, so shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

Mathieu exits the hut. I turn to him and see my fear mirrored in his eyes.

“I’m getting more water,” Mathieu says. “Can you help?”

I go with him to the shore. On the walk, he catches my hand and squeezes. I realise I’m trembling. I take in several shaky breaths and force my mind from the panic.

“We need rescue,” I say. Mathieu wades into the ocean, scooping up water. I turn and face the island. The topmost point. I stare and stare. “Right now.”

“You have an idea?” Mathieu asks. He comes to my side, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Whatever it is, we need to try it.”

“It’s a Hail Mary. If it goes wrong, the rest of us are screwed.”

Mathieu studies me. There’s no doubt in his eyes when he nods. “What do you need me to do?”

His backup is all I need. “Everyone needs to be upwind, even Cillian. You’ll have an hour to get him safely moved to the beach, as close to the water as you can get.”

“I’ll do it. Go.”