Home · Stories · New Island on Fire by Jim
CHAPTER 1 — SURVIVAL
The rain came down in sheets, turning the beach into a muddy mess of splintered wood and twisted metal. Three days. It had been three days since the *Neptune's Folly* had been torn apart by the reef, and I was still running on pure adrenaline and the desperate need to keep everyone alive. My wet clothes clung to my skin, a constant, clammy reminder of how unprepared we were.
"Here, let me get that," Danny's voice was low against the drumming of the rain. He moved beside me, his hands covering mine as we wrestled with a stubborn section of tarpaulin we were trying to secure over the supplies. His palms were warm and rough, a stark contrast to the cold plastic of the tarp. For a second, our fingers intertwined, and I felt a jolt that had nothing to do with the static in the air. I pulled my hands away as if burned.
"I've got it," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. I didn't look at him, focusing instead on tying the knot with practiced, efficient movements. I was the marine biologist, the expedition leader. His job was to follow orders, not to touch me.
A heavy silence settled between us, broken only by the storm. I could feel his eyes on me, a weight I was becoming all too familiar with. It wasn't just admiration; there was something else there, a resentment that simmered just beneath the surface of his compliance. He thought I was cold, detached. Maybe I was. But detachment was a tool, and right now, it was the only thing standing between us and complete chaos.
Once the tarp was finally secure, I ducked underneath it, immediately reaching for the waterproof case containing my research notes. My fingers trembled slightly as I unzipped it. Inside, among the data on tidal patterns and local flora, was the old survey map I'd made of this island during my first visit five years ago. The memory was a ghost. I spread the map out on a dry patch of sand, my eyes tracing the familiar coastline until they found it—a small blue circle I'd drawn in the inland jungle. There was a fresh water spring. It was our only real chance at sustainable survival.
I became aware of Danny standing over me, his shadow falling across the map. "What's that?" he asked, his voice closer than I expected.
"Hope," I answered, not looking up. I traced the circle with my fingertip. "And tomorrow, we go get it."
CHAPTER 2 — EXPLORATION
The jungle pressed in around us, a wall of green so dense it swallowed sound. Every step was a negotiation with roots that wanted to trip me and vines that snagged at my clothes. I could feel Danny behind me, his presence a heat against my back even through the humid air. He'd insisted on coming, citing my "lack of practical field experience," and I'd been too tired to argue.
"Watch your footing here," he said with his voice close. I glanced back to see him pointing at a particularly slick-looking patch of moss covering a series of rocks. "This stuff's like ice when it's wet."
I nodded, turning back to the path. I was a scientist. I understood friction and water displacement. I didn't need a sailor to explain basic physics to me. My annoyance was a sharp, clean thing, a useful tool to keep the unease at bay. The island wasn't how I remembered it. It was louder, more aggressive, as if it resented our intrusion.
The next rock was larger, angled like a ramp. I planted my boot, intending to push off and clear the small gap to the other side. The moment my weight settled, the moss betrayed me. My foot shot out from under me, a gasp tearing from my throat as my balance vanished. Then I noticed the world tilted, green and brown blurring into a sickening spiral.
An arm like a steel band wrapped around my middle, halting my fall with a jolt that knocked the air from my lungs. My back slammed against a hard, warm chest. Danny. He'd caught me. For a suspended moment, I was completely immobilized, his forearm pressing just under my breasts, his other hand gripping my hip to steady us both. I could feel the hammer of his heart through his shirt, a frantic rhythm that matched my own. My hands flew out to brace myself against the rock, my palms scraping against rough stone.
"Steady," he breathed, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "I've got you."
The words were meant to be reassuring, but they sent a different kind of tremor through me. I was acutely aware of every point of contact: the solid line of his body against mine, the heat seeping through my damp shirt, the possessive weight of his hand on my hip. This wasn't just a rescue; it was an occupation. I pushed against the rock, levering myself upright and twisting out of his grasp in one sharp, fluid motion.
"I'm fine," I said, my voice tight. I didn't look at him, just stared at the path ahead, my pulse thudding in my throat. "Let's keep moving."
CHAPTER 3 — SANCTUARY
The spring was exactly as my map had indicated, tucked into a small, mossy hollow surrounded by ferns. The water bubbled up from between two ancient-looking rocks, crystal clear and impossibly inviting. It was the first truly beautiful thing I'd seen since we crashed. After a moment of hesitation, I decided to wait. Danny and Eunice were filling the canteens downstream, their voices a distant murmur. I would have my moment. I needed it.
I slipped away while they were distracted, following the stream back to its source. The air here felt different, cleaner. The canopy above formed a dense, latticed roof, dappling the water in shifting patterns of light. I was alone. The realization settled over me, a profound relief so potent it made my knees weak. For the first time in days, I wasn't responsible for anyone. Not for their safety, not for their morale, not for their next drink of water. Here, I was just Tara.
My fingers trembled as they worked the buttons of my shirt. Each one slipping through its hole felt like a small surrender. The fabric that is stiff with salt and dried sweat, peeled away from my skin. I let it fall to the mossy ground, the cool air immediately raising goosebumps on my arms and shoulders. My trousers followed with the zipper loud in the quiet clearing, the denim rough against my skin as I pushed them down. I stood for a moment in just my underwear, the plain white cotton suddenly feeling inadequate, flimsy. The bruises on my ribs and the cut on my thigh seemed darker here, more pronounced against my pale skin.
I tested the water with my toes. The cold was a shock, a sharp intake of breath that stole all thought. The water swirled around my ankles, then my calves, then my thighs as I waded deeper. It was frigid, but it was clean. I sank down until the water lapped at my shoulders, the cold a welcome penance. I submerged completely, holding my breath until my lungs burned, letting the water wash away the grime, the fear, the constant, grinding tension. When I broke the surface, gasping, I slicked my hair back from my face, the water streaming down my neck and over my shoulders. I reached behind me to unhook my bra, the wet fabric clinging stubbornly before I finally worked it free and tossed it onto the mossy bank. The water flowed over my bare breasts, the sensation both shocking and liberating. I closed my eyes, tilting my face toward the fractured sunlight, and let my hands drift to my waist, hooking my thumbs under the elastic of my panties.
A sharp crack echoed through the quiet clearing, the sound of a branch breaking underfoot. My eyes flew open, every muscle tensing. My hands flew to cover my breasts, the water suddenly feeling less like a sanctuary and more like a trap.
CHAPTER 4 — VIOLATION
My hands flew to cover my breasts, the water suddenly feeling less like a sanctuary and more like a trap. Every nerve ending fired at once, cold water and hot fear warring inside me. I turned, searching the dense foliage at the edge of the clearing, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Danny emerged from between two broad-leafed ferns, his expression a mixture of relief and something else I couldn't quite read. He held up his hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender.
"Tara! Thank God. I heard a splash and—" His eyes dropped, taking in my nakedness in the clear water, and his words caught in his throat. "I didn't... I mean, I was just checking..."
"You followed me." My voice was flat, cold. I didn't move, didn't try to cover myself further. Let him look. Let him see exactly what he'd intruded upon.
"I was worried," he said, his gaze flicking between my face and the water line at my waist. "The terrain is treacherous, and you took off without telling anyone. It's not safe out here alone."
"Not safe?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "The only danger I've encountered out here is you."
"I'm not dangerous, Tara. I'm trying to protect you."
"I don't need your protection." I started moving toward the bank, toward my clothes piled on the moss. "I need you to leave."
"Tara, wait—"
He stepped forward as I reached the edge of the pool. I was just bending to retrieve my bra when his fingers brushed against my waist. The contact was electric, a jolt of violation that shot through me like lightning. Instinct took over before thought could form.
I grabbed his wrist, twisting sharply as I dropped my weight and pivoted on the ball of my foot. The self-defense training from my college days kicked in, muscle memory overriding everything else. I used his momentum against him, yanking him off balance. He stumbled forward with a surprised grunt, his feet tangling in the underwater vegetation. I drove my elbow into his solar plexus, and he went down with a splash, gasping for air.
Before he could recover, I was on him, straddling his back in the shallow water. My fingers scrabbled on the rocky bottom until they closed around a shard of coral, sharp and serrated. I pressed it to his throat, the point dimpling the skin just above his collarbone. Water streamed down my naked body, plastering my hair to my shoulders, but I barely felt the cold. All I could feel was the rage burning through me, the absolute fury at this violation.
"Don't move," I hissed with my voice low and dangerous. "Don't even breathe too hard."
"Tara... what the hell..." His voice was strained, his face pressed against the rocky bottom of the pool.
"You don't get to follow me. You don't get to watch me. You don't get to touch me." I pressed the coral harder, and he flinched. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," he choked out. "Yes, I understand."
I held him there for another moment, the rage slowly receding enough for rational thought to return. I was naked, straddling a man I'd just thrown down in a jungle spring, holding a weapon to his throat. The absurdity of it hit me all at once, and my grip on the coral loosened.
I pushed myself off him, scrambling to retrieve my clothes. I didn't bother with the bra, just yanked on my shirt and trousers, my movements clumsy and desperate. Danny remained where he was, pushing himself up slowly, water streaming from his hair.
When I turned back, he was watching me with an expression I couldn't decipher. Something shifted in his eyes, and the resentment I'd seen before was gone, replaced by something darker, more wounded.
"You know," he said, his voice quiet but carrying clearly in the small clearing, "for someone who claims she doesn't want attention, you certainly have a way of collecting men."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
"First it was Mark on the expedition, always hanging on your every word. Then Eunice, practically worshipping the ground you walk on. And now..." He gestured vaguely between us. "This. What is it, Tara? Do you enjoy making people want things they can't have?"
I stared at him, speechless with shock. "You think I want this? You think I enjoyed you sneaking up on me while I was bathing?"
"I think you enjoy the power," he shot back, his voice rising. "I think you like having us all dancing to your tune, pretending it's about science and survival when really it's about control."
The slap echoed through the clearing, sharp and loud. Danny's head snapped to the side, a red handprint already blooming on his cheek. He touched it gingerly, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"I trusted you," I said, my voice shaking with fury and something else—betrayal, sharp and painful. "I thought you were different. But you're just like all the others. You see a woman in charge and all you can think about is how to put her in her place."
"That's not fair," he began, but I cut him off.
"Get out," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Go back to camp. And don't ever speak to me again unless I speak to you first."
He opened his mouth as if to argue, then seemed to think better of it. With one last look—a complicated mixture of anger, hurt, and something that might have been regret—he turned and disappeared back into the jungle.
I stood there for a long time after he was gone, my body trembling with reaction. The adrenaline slowly drained away, leaving behind a hollow ache. I sank to my knees on the mossy bank, pulling my knees to my chest. The tears came without warning, hot and humiliating, tracking paths through the grime on my cheeks. I was alone again, but the sanctuary of the spring was gone, replaced by the lingering sense of violation.
CHAPTER 5 — RECKONING
The walk back to camp was a blur of green and brown, my feet moving automatically while my mind replayed the scene at the spring over and over. Each memory was a fresh wound: Danny's face appearing in the foliage, his hand on my waist, the weight of him in the water, his accusations echoing in the sudden silence.
By the time I reached camp, my anger had crystallized into something cold and hard. I found Danny by the fire, attempting to clean a gash on his forearm with a piece of cloth. Eunice sat nearby, watching him with concern, while Frank stood a little apart, sharpening a piece of driftwood with a knife.
Danny looked up as I approached, his expression guarded. Eunice's eyes widened at the sight of me—my clothes still damp, my face streaked with tears and dirt.
"Tara? Are you okay? What happened?"
I ignored her, my gaze fixed on Danny. "We need to talk."
He stood slowly, his movements stiff. "What do we need to talk about?"
"There is a need for us to discuss boundaries and respect. It is the fact that you followed me to a private place and then accused me of leading you on." My voice rose with each word, drawing Frank's attention.
Eunice looked between us, confused. "What's going on?"
Danny's face hardened. "I was concerned for your safety. That's all."
"Bullshit," I snapped. "You saw me leave camp alone and you followed me. You watched me undress. You touched me without permission."
"I called out," he insisted. "You didn't hear me."
"That doesn't give you the right to—" I broke off, shaking with rage and frustration. "You know what? I'm done explaining. You're relieved of duty effective immediately."
"You can't do that," he said, his voice low. "We need everyone working together if we're going to survive."
"We need people we can trust," I shot back. "And I don't trust you."
Frank stepped forward then, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps we should all calm down."
I rounded on him. "And you. Where were you today? Eunice said you've been disappearing for hours at a time. What are you hiding?"
Frank's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm exploring and learning the island. Something you should be doing more of instead of playing leader."
The accusation hit me where I was most vulnerable. "This isn't a game. People's lives are at stake."
"Are they?" Frank's voice was dangerously soft. "Or is this just another expedition for you? Is it another chance to play scientist while the rest of us do the real work?"
"That's not fair," Eunice protested, but I barely heard her. The walls were closing in, the accusations coming from all sides. My vision began to tunnel, the sounds of the camp fading to a distant hum.
I felt a hand on my arm and reacted instinctively, twisting away and lashing out. My fist connected with something solid—Danny's jaw, I think—and he stumbled back with a cry of surprise and pain.
But the violence didn't bring clarity. Instead, it triggered a cascade of emotions too overwhelming to process. The anger, the fear, the shame, the betrayal—it all crashed over me at once. My legs gave out and I collapsed to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
I was dimly aware of Eunice rushing to my side, of Danny hovering nearby with a confused, guilty expression, of Frank watching with those inscrutable eyes. But I couldn't focus on any of them. All I could feel was the crushing weight of responsibility, the suffocating pressure of being the one everyone looked to, the unbearable loneliness of being in charge when no one truly understood.
My sobs gradually subsided into hiccups, then into shuddering breaths. Eunice helped me to my feet, guiding me toward my tent. Danny started to follow, but Frank stopped him with a gesture.
"Let her be," I heard Frank say as Eunice led me away. "She's had enough for one day."
EPILOGUE
The morning light filtered through the thin fabric of my tent, rousing me from a fitful sleep. Every muscle ached, my eyes were swollen from crying, and my head throbbed with a dull, persistent pain. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or why I felt so awful. Then it all came rushing back—the spring, Danny, the confrontation, my collapse.
I pushed myself up slowly, my movements stiff. Eunice had left a canteen of water and a piece of dried fruit inside the tent entrance. I drank greedily, the cool water soothing my parched throat. As I reached for the fruit, my eyes caught on Frank's arms. He was standing just outside my tent, his back to me, but the morning light revealed something I hadn't noticed before—a series of strange markings on his forearms, dark and intricate, like tattoos or scars.
My breath caught. I'd seen those patterns before, carved into trees near the spring. These are ancient-looking symbols that hadn't been on my original survey of the island.
I pushed myself out of the tent, my injuries forgotten. "Frank," I said with my voice rough. "What are those marks on your arms?"
He turned slowly, his expression carefully neutral. "These are just old scars from my navy days."
"Don't lie to me," I said, my voice gaining strength as my scientific curiosity overrode everything else. "I've seen those symbols before near the spring. What are they doing here? What do you know about this island that you're not telling us?"
For the first time since we'd crashed, Frank's composure cracked. Something flickered in his eyes—fear, perhaps, or resignation. He glanced around, as if checking who might be listening, then took a step closer to me.
"This isn't the first time I've been on this island," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And we're not alone here."