Bum's Rush by TrampsAnThieves,TrampsAnThieves

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All frolickers, fellators, and fuckers in this work of fiction are of legal age to fornicate.

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Prologue

Three years ago, I started working at this venture capital place as a web-designer. It’s a fairly large company – but it’s small enough that everybody mostly knows everybody.

The benefits are above average, and the employees are motivated by profit-sharing options and a 401k with a superior matching program.

Three months ago, there was an opening in our fitness and wellness department. I emailed the info to my sister. She applied and got the job.

Megan is not a supermodel – but she’s fit, taller than most women, and has thin legs – so her butt (while not big) draws the eyes of most men. With her light brown hair (that stops just short of her shoulders) and her mostly flat (B cup, maybe) chest, she looks like a gazelle – strong and graceful.

Last month, one of the founder’s kids – Rich Ridley – who is an Assistant VP in Marketing – asked Meg out.

The first date went well enough – and he’s (obviously) connected – so she said “yes” to a couple more.

Ridley quickly turned into an ogre on a power-trip so Meg started turning him down.

A week later, he appeared at my desk – to try to get me to pressure her into changing her mind.

The conversation started with promises – but moved to implied threats fairly quickly. It was pretty easy to see why Megan was telling him “no”.

Besides that, I’m not about to push her into a relationship with this arrogant fucker when I spent so much time convincing her this was a great place to work.

The entitled twat came back a couple more times – each time with a new angle – and then he suddenly stopped showing up.

Last week, Meg and I each got pulled into HR. We’re being moved to a new branch office that’s opening near Panama.

We each get $100k in moving expenses and will be part of an advance team that will be coordinating logistics from the ground up.

It’s an “opportunity of a lifetime” – they said – and not optional.

Of course, as soon as I got back from HR, I started asking my computer-nerd coworkers about the new Pearl Islands office. They peeked into all of the data we have access to. As far as we can determine, there is no office opening in Panama – and never will be.

Welcome to the Bum’s Rush.

What to Pack?

From what Megan and I are being told, we’re flying into Panama. From there, we’ll travel by boat to the prospective location.

Supposedly, there’s an intermodal cargo (Conex) box of supplies getting dropped off with us.

We’ll have international phone service via towers on the mainland. We’ll set up and organize the new campus – using local labor – and notify the corporate office when we’re ready for the rest of the team members to be deployed.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize that a fitness trainer and a web-programmer would not be the right people for this task – which helps confirm that the whole story is a work of fiction.

Since it’s pretty obvious we’re being dropped on a deserted island and left for dead, I started trying to figure out what I needed to take with me.

Honestly, I’m betting we get chloroformed and dumped – with nothing more than the clothes on our backs – but I’d like to hope it won’t be that bad.

Best-case scenario: I load a backpack with as much shit as I think I can carry – and hope the fuckers they hire to dispose of us are generous enough to let me keep it all.

Maybe I’ll carry a wallet, overloaded with cash, and either use that as a bribe – or hope they just knock us out, steal the money, and take off.

When I got home, I dug through my storage crates, looking for my old Boy Scout shit.

Most of the stuff our Scout Troop had bought (or made) was already stored in non-descript containers – like an Altoids tin for the fire piston and the char-cloth scraps.

I found my old trail-pack and started grabbing stuff that looked useful.

I threw a couple knives in – with a sharpener. I found some tools that fold down to make them easier to transport: a tree saw, a shovel, and a mattock.

Of course, I pitched in a bundle of parachute cord, a roll of duct tape, and a small tarp.

For meals, I grabbed two mess kits, a couple small pots, and a net hammock that could double as a net for fishing.

I found a small first-aid kit, sewing kit, a hand mirror, a compass, iodine tablets, a wind-up flashlight – as well as some bug spray, aloe, and sunscreen.

I didn’t see any mosquito netting so I ordered some with expedited shipping. It showed up the next day.

I packed all the items into the various stuff-sacks I’d collected over time, loaded them into the bottom of my pack, and threw a couple outfits (plus spare socks & underwear) on top.

The bag was nearly bursting at the seams. When we leave Panama, I need a couple bottles of water – for both the water – and the bottles.

In my pockets, I’ll have my phone, an extra battery, and my charger – whatever good that’ll do – in a waterproof pouch (since I expect to be tossed overboard).

Megan came over. She was crying before I even got the door open. I wrapped her in a hug and pulled her inside. It took a while, but I eventually got her settled down.

I assured her that this was no more her fault than mine – and that going back to the jerk would have accomplished nothing if he was this easily angered – and this empowered.

My goal was to survive long enough to be rescued – and come back to find another job outside of his circle of influence.

In the meantime, the $100k would be invested and – someday – his “severance package” should fund the bulk of my retirement – which I viewed as the ultimate revenge.

Meg was not as up-beat, obviously, but, after we talked for a while, she decided that my approach offered: (a) the best shot at surviving this with our sanity still intact, and (b) a way to minimize the long-term effects (assuming we lived to tell about it).

I’m not that smart but, being a couple years older, Meg has always come to me when she needed to deal with something that she didn’t want to bug mom & dad with.

We talked about how much we could share with them about what was going on.

HR had made us sign an NDA that seemed a little cagey but I didn’t have any lawyer friends to run it by to see for sure.

In the end, we decided to go with the company story for mom & dad – but leave an “in case of emergency” Manilla envelope under the pillows in our old rooms that they could open once we’d been declared MIA.

Meg had just been getting ready to go apartment hunting when Ridley started causing problems – so her stuff was all still at home.

I’d had my own apartment for a while now but I’d informed my landlord about the transfer and would be moving all of my shit back to mom & dad’s.

I dug around a little more in my leftover Boy Scout stuff and ended up filling half of Meg’s pack with duplicates of most of the items that were in mine.

She didn’t get the foldable tools but I found a small hatchet that seemed like it might be a good idea.

I only had one fire-piston so she ended up with a flint & steel but – other than that – our loads were fairly similar.

I also threw two small BPA-free water bottles in her bag.

A couple days before we were scheduled to leave, $100,000 showed up in each of our bank accounts.

After doing a little research, I visited the State Department, set up accounts for each of us at the US Embassy in Panama City, and transferred $5000 to each account.

The rest of the money (as well as most of what was in my savings) went into moderately aggressive mutual funds that would shift to more a conservative portfolio a little at a time over the next 30 years.

For Meg, we left her savings alone (there wasn’t much there yet) and just shifted her $100,000 into mutual funds set up the same way mine were.

Print outs of the accounts, sign-in IDs & passwords, and everything else we didn’t want to lose went into the Manilla folders and got tucked under our pillows.

We gave mom & dad hugs and caught an Uber to the airport.

Meg had $300 stored where it was easily accessible and another $200 in a thin money-belt around her waist. She was dressed in long sleeves and full-length pants that would keep skin from the UV rays – as well as from roaming eyes.

I was also dressed to avoid the sun – but in fabrics that were as light as Meg’s – with $500 hidden in my money-belt and $1000 in my wallet.

Our money belts also had laminated photocopies of the ID page from our passports.

When we got to the gate and sat down, Meg took my hand in hers and wouldn’t let me shake her off.

I tried to talk her off the ledge – and she really didn’t seem that stressed – but she insisted on maintaining physical contact the whole time.

When I complained that I needed both hands to reply to an email, she hooked her left arm through my right one and leaned against my shoulder.

Once she was sure I was done with my business, she reclaimed my hand.

Expatriates

As soon as we were in our seats, Megan was back to insisting on either the hand-holding or the arm-lock with the head on my shoulder.

I kissed her forehead and told her it would be fine.

She kissed my cheek, snuggled under my arm, threw her arms around my chest, and hung on like we were falling out of the sky. We were still waiting on the rest of the passengers to load.

The stress must have exhausted her because she fell asleep before we’d even taxied to the runway.

I hooked my arm through hers, interlocked our fingers, and leaned her head on my shoulder.

A little over five hours later, we were waiting on the people in front of us to get off so we could disembark.

We went to baggage claim and collected our two large packs.

With all the questionable hardware inside, the only way to take them with us was to check them.

Meg’s pack didn’t look like it had been touched – even with the hatchet inside.

A few of my things were, obviously, not where I had put them – so they’d at least done a cursory inspection of the contents of my pack.

We flagged down a taxi, told him our destination – with one waypoint – and climbed in with our bags.

Our first stop was the US Embassy. We checked in, confirmed that our money was sitting there, and then gave them as many details as we knew about where we were going and what we’d been told we were doing.

Since we didn’t know when we’d be back, there wasn’t really a way to tell them when they should start looking for the bodies – but at least they’d have a record that we’d been here at this point.

We returned to the taxi which, thankfully, was still waiting – and – bonus points! – our packs looked untouched.

The driver headed towards the piers to track down our charter boat.

The gentleman at the office seemed fairly normal – and the guys loading the supplies on the boat didn’t seem that much worse than we’d expected.

Maybe all our fears about being kidnapped by a drug cartel were just the result of overactive imaginations ..

Listening to the workers speak, however, the only guy who seemed to understand English was the one we’d just given our paperwork to.

The rest of the workers spoke in a version of Spanish that wasn’t quite the same as the one that I’d learned in high school.

With my rusty memory – and sluggish speed at parsing their words – I only had a vague idea of what they were saying.

I decided that I was better off acting like I didn’t understand them at all.

The boat was about the size that I’d been on when I took a dolphin cruise at Myrtle Beach.

Soon enough, we were escorted aboard the craft and the crew began shoving off.

As I had anticipated, there was no Conex box on the ship.

“Maybe it’s already sitting on the beach,” I thought to myself. “Yeah, right.”

I half-expected to have my arms bound and a burlap sack thrown over my head.

Meg was back to holding my hand again. A few of the crew members definitely noticed her nervousness (and probably mine) but I didn’t see any overt reactions so I tried to play it cool.

After about an hour of traveling across open water, we pulled into a small, quiet bay with a beautiful sandy beach and sparkling blue water.

A large gentleman who seemed to have the respect of the rest of the crew approached us and motioned for us to stand.

He took us to the side of the boat and pointed to the shore.

It was going to be about a quarter-mile swim and there’s no way we’d be able to do it with the packs we were carrying.

He pointed to a small lifeboat, tethered to the side of the boat, and made a motion that seemed to indicate that he’d sell me the dinghy if I had enough cash.

I took out my wallet, thumbed through the bills, peeled off half of them, and handed them over.

He looked at what was in his hand and then at what was in my wallet.

He motioned to the guy next to him – who handed him two oars.

Holding the oars, he looked back at my wallet.

I dug out the rest of the bills and gave them to him.

They disappeared into his pocket.

He nodded at the crew members and they started untying the small craft.

Once it was in the water, they helped us into it, handed us our packs, and then passed us the oars.

The captain gave me a little salute and then one of the crew members gave us a shove with his foot.

I got the oars into their mounts and started rowing.

As soon as we were a quarter of the way to the beach, they started their boat and disappeared.

As they pulled away, I was relieved and angry, all at the same time.

Meg threw her arms around me and hugged me.

I paused my rowing until she got that out of her system and then I went back to work.

Half the time, the waves seemed to be helping me; the other half, it felt like all my forward progress was erased each time one of them hit us.

Meg took over for a bit and I took a drink from one of the water bottles I’d grabbed.

As soon as she petered out, I took over again.

It seemed like another hour passed before we got close enough that we could hop out of the boat, into waist-deep water, and drag the thing to the sand.

I decided the dinghy was going to serve one of two purposes – maybe both by the time we were done. It would be a hard roof for a shelter or – when the rains came – it would be a reservoir for fresh water.

We drug it away from the water’s edge and looked up and down the thin beach.

Stranded

I dug the mattock out of my pack and Meg got her hatchet.

We left the rest of the things in the lifeboat and went through the gap in the bushes to look for water sources, wildlife, shelter locations, and edibles.

Not really seeing anything – good in the case of predators – bad in the case of everything else on our list – we headed back to the boat.

Although it had looked like midafternoon when we’d arrived, we could tell that we didn’t have a lot of time before it was going to be dark.

The layout of the benches in the boat didn’t look like we’d be able to rest by just lying in it.

We found a few lengths of bamboo that looked like it had washed in from somewhere else and laid them across the benches.

There weren’t quite enough to fill the whole area but it should work – at least for now.

I ran the para-cord between two palm trees, threw the tarp over it, staked down the sides, and then we drug the dinghy under the roof.

I’d read that there are biting flies here – so we unrolled the mosquito netting, removed the tarp, hung the netting, replaced the tarp over the top, and then draped the netting around us as we sat on the bamboo pallet we’d constructed.

Meg surprised me with a small package of beef jerky – which we split – chasing it with a few sips of bottled water – before trying to use our extra clothes to make a thin mattress on our pole-bed.

We didn’t hear any large animals but as true-dark set in, there was a lot of “scuttling” sounds.

I shined my phone’s flashlight at the palm tree at our feet to find little multi-color fiddler-looking crabs hanging from the bark, staring back at me.

It seemed like they hadn’t been able to climb up the sides of the boat so, for now at least, we didn’t have to share our bed with them.

I was hotter than I’ve ever been when trying to sleep – but Meg insisted on snuggling into me the whole night.

I put my arm around her head & neck so she’d have a little more of a pillow – although I was pretty miserable by the time the sun started coming up the next morning.

Overall, our first night wasn’t horrible.

The crustaceous crusaders had been kept at bay, no large animals seemed to be around, and the netting had kept most of the flies off of us.

We would probably acclimate to the heat – but it was still going to be a problem for a while.

We definitely needed a shelter with ventilation.

Day 1

We’d just started to leave our boat-bed when a coconut dropped out of the tree and slid down the tarp – striking the edge of the boat with a sound that made it clear that we didn’t want to be hit with any of those!

I added hardened-roof to the list of amenities that our shelter needed.

Meg was still clingy. She wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom by myself. That was a little awkward.

You ever watch girls pee? That must suck. Glad I can just whip it out, go, tuck it back in, and be on my way. What a pain in the ass! (And it sounds like a fire-sprinkler going off – but anyway ..)

I used the tree saw on the green coconut that hit our shelter and was able to get a hole we could drink out of.

I’m sure we’ll grow to hate it but – for now – we both enjoyed the flavor of the water it held inside.

I found a bag of fruit snacks in my pocket so we split those for breakfast.

I didn’t know what else Meg had for food – but that was the last of what I had with me.

I finally remembered to check my phone. Of course, there’s no signal. I shut it off and put it back in the waterproof pouch. Meg did the same with hers.

Today’s tasks: catch some fish, start a fire, and get started on a more permanent shelter.

First, however, we should probably do a little wider tour of the area and see if – just maybe – there’s a fresh-water source around. That would make things a hell of a lot easier.

We walked directly from the beach to whatever would be on the opposite side of this land mass.

I tried to keep my path as straight as possible.

As we walked, we collected every straight stick we could find and laid it along our path, pointing back to the boat.

We each finished our first bottle of water and still hadn’t found anything helpful. We turned around and followed our stick-trail back to base.

As we went, we collected anything we could use for firewood – but left the stick-trail where it was.

Meg and I took the hammock-net for a short walk in the lagoon and netted (pun intended) ourselves a half dozen hand-sized fish without too much effort.

We dug a hole, cleaned the fish, buried the refuse, and covered it back over – well away from our base-camp.

I got a fire going and fed it until we had a nice bed of coals in a small pit.

Meg used her hatchet and I used my mattock and we got the husks off of a few brown coconuts. We cracked them open with her hatchet and refilled our water bottles (and our bellies) with the fluids.

The brown ones have “distilled” a little – acquiring sweetness from the meat – so we needed to alternate this with either fresh water or coconut water from the green ones – in order to avoid bathroom problems.

We took a burlap-like husk from a palm tree, squeezed the “cream” out of the coconuts – spilling it into one of my small pots – before adding the fish and setting it on the glowing coals.

While that was cooking, we found more bamboo and other straight poles that we could use for the construction of the shelter.

I wanted four straight palm trees – close together – like bedposts – that we could use to build a nice treehouse. Apparently, that’s really hard to find.

I found two straight trees – about eight feet apart – and decided to work with that.

I had planned to use the boat as the roof – especially after nearly getting knocked out earlier – but I decided that I still needed to keep the thing in reserve – as a basin for storing rainwater – which – should come every three or four days – and would significantly improve our quality of life. At that point, our only source of fluids was the coconuts.

My revised plan was: a four-foot-wide hardened roof – about nine feet off of the ground – with Meg’s hammock suspended three feet below that – and mine suspended about three feet below hers – which should still leave me at a couple feet off of the sand.

We would try draping the mosquito netting half over Meg’s bed and then half down over mine. We might have to cut it, but I’d prefer to avoid that.

We had worked on a couple of different ideas for how to keep the crabs from climbing up our support trees but – so far – we hadn’t come up with something we thought would work.

Hopefully the little shits wouldn’t be able to tight-rope walk across our hammock ties to join us in our snug little beds.

I used some Hibiscus bark to tie two 8-foot poles together with bands about a foot apart.

I used the bands as steps and climbed up to start working on my roof pieces.

I ended up building everything on the ground. I laid out the roof on two poles that fit between the support-trees – and then Meg and I used two long, thin poles to push the roof into place.

She steadied it while I quickly tethered it to the support trees at each end and then climbed up and added stronger tethers just under the roof.

Once the Hibiscus-bark lashings were all in place, we hung the hammocks up and tested it out.

The problem with this layout was that Meg couldn’t reach (or leave) her hammock without my help.

She climbed up my hips & shoulders while I held her hammock still – and then she climbed inside.

When she needed to leave, we reversed the process.

At that point, it worked well enough – but we would eventually ..

Eventually, I planned to search until I found the four (or five) trees laid out the way I wanted – and I’d build the world’s best treehouse.

We finally remembered we’d left the fish on the fire – and returned to the pot to find a chowder that wasn’t horrible. It could’ve used a little seasoning but I didn’t feel adding sea-brine to the mixture was a good idea and we didn’t have a lot of other choices.

Low hydration – and rationed meals – meant we weren’t as productive as we normally would be – but – overall – I was pretty happy with how the day had gone.

We added some sticks to the fire and sat – side by side – watching the waves in the lagoon, as the sun set.

There was a little breeze – that might mean we’d get a morning shower.

I realized I hadn’t accounted for rain in my design and used the last bit of daylight to tie para-cord to the corners of the tarp, throw it up over the hardened roof, and then staked the lines out to give us (or at least Meg) a little protection from the rain.

We pulled the dinghy into a small clearing in the palm trees and then realized we needed to do something with our packs.

We ended up just zipping them closed and laying them under my “bunk”.

We each took a turn at the pee-tree and then I held onto Meg’s hammock and braced myself for her to climb my body to her bed.

I felt a hand on my cheeks and weathered lips touching mine.

It wasn’t a husband & wife kiss – but it was a little more than the peck between a brother & sister.

“I love you. Thank you for being so calm and making all of this shit work. I was sure I’d be losing my mind by now and I’m not even worried. I’m hot, I’m tired – fuck – I’m exhausted – but this is almost fun. You’re doing a fabulous job.”

“It’s going to rain and our packs are going to be soaked.”

“It’ll be fine. I have full confidence in you. Just get some rest. You’re going to try to do even more tomorrow than you did today – I know you are. You don’t need to push so hard. I thought we’d be dead by now. Go to sleep. I love you.”

She gave me another kiss, a hug that told me I was her life-saver, and then she walked around behind me and climbed up my body – into her hammock.

As soon as she was settled – and had the mosquito netting in place – I draped it over my bunk, climbed into my luxurious bed and – despite the heat – immediately fell asleep.

Day 2

I awoke to moisture misting my face. The light breeze was throwing a little of the early morning rain under the edge of the tarp – onto the mosquito netting – which was, then, misting down over me.

Although I wasn’t dry, I was drier than I would be if I climbed out from under the tarp – so I stayed where I was – and listened to the rain patter against our roof and stream down the sides.

“You awake?” I heard Megan ask.

“Yeah.”

“I really have to pee but I don’t want to get up. Are you getting wet down there?”

“A little – just a mist though.”

“It’s perfect up here. I slept so good. You did an amazing job. If this rain, falling on the tarp, wasn’t making my bladder feel like it was going to explode, I could just lie here all day.”

“Climb down, we’ll run and pee, and then we’ll come back. Hopefully, we won’t get that wet.”

“You realize there’s no way we’re going to be just a little wet, right?”

“Probably.”

“Aaagh! I have to pee so bad!” she groaned. “Fine. Will you help me down, big brother?”

“Yes, little sister.”

“I love you, you big bully.”

“I’ve never bullied you,” I countered.

“Whatever! Help me down before I piss myself.”

I climbed out of my reasonably-dry cot to find our packs were getting spray and drips from the tarp. I hoisted them into my hammock and, then, helped my grumbling sibling climb down so she could go take care of her morning absolutions. She was pretty wet by the time she returned and was ready to climb back into her cot.

At that point, I was already pretty wet. I traded my long-sleeve shirt for a quick-dry one – and my pants for my swim trunks.

I visited the pee-tree and then decided I could use a bath – and the rain would get the sand & salt off when I was done.

I grabbed the hammock-net and headed for the lagoon.

I left my net and shirt on the shore and dove in, surfaced, and then scrubbed some of the matted sweat from my hair & body.

I put my shirt back on and waded into the light surf, casting the hammock out whenever I saw a fish or two.

I’m not proficient with the net yet – and it needs some weights around the edges – but I ended up with four hand-sized fish without too much effort.

On the way back to the “bunkhouse”, I found a couple more good plastic bottles washed up on the shore and added them to our collection.

The dinghy had a few inches of water in the bottom so I started filling the empty bottles we had picked out as water bottles.

The ones that were in worse condition were still kept around. We would find a use for them.

One idea I had was to use them like shingles – but that would take hundreds – and we didn’t have that many.

A few palm branches had come down in the rain so I gathered them in one place.

My fire was dead – and my stack of firewood was now sitting in a puddle of rainwater – so it would be a while before we could cook the fish.

I planned to use the palm branches as thatching on a storage shed for firewood and other stuff we’d prefer stayed off the ground and reasonably dry.

Today was not the day to build – but I could gather all of the pieces and get them organized.

I did that for an hour or so before I was tired from not having eaten anything.

I went back to the bunkhouse to find Meg sleeping.

I shoved her pack above my head, climbed into my hammock, and wrapped my legs around my pack – leaving it sitting between my knees.

It wasn’t super-comfortable but I could rest – and I needed a nap.

A couple hours later, I woke up to find that the rain had stopped and somebody had turned on the sauna.

The earlier cool rain – and the “bath” in the lagoon were erased by the steamy heat we now found ourselves in.

I cleaned the fish and dumped the detritus into an empty milk-jug that we’d cut damaged parts out of to make a kind of pitcher.

I left the fish on the leaves I’d been using to keep them off the ground and went to bury the mess down the beach.

I’d just started to walk out through the bushes that protected most of our campsite from the lagoon when I heard a boat approaching.

In seconds, Megan came up next to me. She had a small pair of field-glasses in her hand. We ducked into the wall of bushes and she eased a branch to the side to get a look at our visitors.

“It’s the boat that dropped us off,” she reported. “They are untying a lifeboat.”

Escape

I dumped out the contents of my pitcher in the bushes and we headed back to the bunkhouse.

I threw the fish into the sullied container and set it to the side.

We yanked our packs out of my “bunk” and put them with the fish.

We gathered and stowed our hammocks.

I untied the tethers on the tarp and pulled it down, hurriedly folding it for travel.

We grabbed whatever tools we’d left out and threw them into our bags.

We filled the good water bottles and hooked them to our packs.

The reclaimed plastic bottles that were also being used for drinking water were gathered up. I partially unfolded the tarp – so that it made kind of a sack – and we threw the bottles in there.

I slung the thing over my shoulder and we quickly looked around the space for anything we’d missed.

Meg was looking scared but had her hatchet in her hand.

My hands were full – carrying Santa’s bundle of water bottles – so I headed down the path of our breadcrumb-trail of sticks.

She grabbed the pitcher of fish and followed me.

Since I knew the stick-trail was fairly clear, I moved quickly along it until I reached the point where we had turned around to go back to camp.

Assuming it had been mid-morning when we’d started, it was a little after lunch by now.

Not knowing how long the men had taken to explore our campsite before deciding whether or not to track us, we kept moving – despite fatigue starting to set in from lack of food.

We took drinks from the bottles in my tarp-bag, returned the empties to the pack, and kept moving.

Meg offered to take a turn carrying but I insisted on sticking with what seemed to be working for now.

Once we passed the end of what we’d already explored, I let her take the lead.

We weren’t talking – just communicating with hand-signals – and moving as quickly as we could – ears straining to hear any noise behind us.

I really don’t know how long we kept on. I know I was tired – my heart was pounding in my ears.

I swore I could hear voices behind me but my body hurt so badly that I couldn’t risk turning to look because I’d probably just fall over.

Meg looked behind me a couple of times – so I assumed she was hearing the same things I was.

That only made my heart pound harder.

We broke through the trees and found a worn path leading off at a slight angle to the right of the way we’d already been traveling.

Without stopping to ask, Meg took off at a faster pace.

I tried to jog to keep up, but I was quickly running out of juice.

We’d gone – I don’t know – probably another half-mile when the path curved around a bend – and we found a collection of thatched huts.

Each hut was elevated above the ground’s surface by about three feet. This would allow them to avoid problems with pests – like the crabs – but also help avoid problems with storm-surge.

We passed a couple of the rough structures, still following the path, when inquisitive faces started appearing among the huts.

Meg stuck the handle of her hatchet into the back of her loose pants and moved forward with her hands raised.

A good distance ahead, I could see a central campfire and a handful of people – younger women cooking, older women weaving, older men smoking, and younger men talking in small groups.

With hands still raised in surrender, Meg approached until she was 20 feet from the elders and then dropped to her knees – never lowering her hands.

Still bearing my burden, I knelt beside her, and lowered my head.

I didn’t look up, but lots of feet quietly gathered around us – feet made up of all of the groups of individuals that we had observed as we came in.

A younger male barked or coughed – which must have been a warning – because all of those feet – almost at the same time – turned to face somebody approaching behind us.

I dropped the tarp, pulled my pack off, and fumbled around until I found the mattock.

Meg set the fish down, eased her pack off, and stood to her feet, taking her hatchet back in-hand, turning to face our pursuers.

As soon as I had the pick in my hand, I stood next to her.

We didn’t see the captain of the boat anywhere but the three guys who were slowly approaching were definitely from the crew that had dumped us off.

Meg firmed the grip she had on her weapon and took a step forward. I twisted the pick until the business-end was facing the men and then stepped up beside her.

The first guy had a pistol; the other two had spear-guns.

That eliminated any ideas we might have had that they were just stopping by for a social visit.

Suddenly, one of the tribe’s young men stepped up on Megan’s left and another stepped up on my right.

The guy with the pistol held his hands up – but kept a firm grip on the gun; the other two stayed at the ready – weapons pointed at the ground.

An elder stepped up on the other side of Megan’s protector and held up a hand – palm out – to tell the men to stop.

The lead crewman left the gun raised but pointed to the two of us with his other hand.

The old man stepped in front of Megan and crossed his hands over his chest. He shook his head at the man.

The crewman looked, hard, at the old man and then pointed his pistol at him.

In seconds, there was a wall of bodies in front of us.

The members of this flash-mob had not been visible to me when we came into camp but there were now at least 50 young warriors standing between us (or the old man) and the boat crew.

Each warrior had a spear in one hand – the butt still sitting on the ground – and a sling & knife strapped to their waist.

I studied the blades. There were a few bone knives – but most appeared to be flint or volcanic stone. All were crude – but they still looked sharp.

The heads of a few of the spears were just fire-hardened wood – but most had stone or bone points.

Apparently deciding that whatever he’d hoped to gain by coming after us was lost to them, the head crewman lowered his gun and wordlessly cut between the two spear-men to head back along the path we’d come in on.

Everyone in our group stayed in place as the other two men first glared at our party and then turned to follow their leader.

Once they were past the bend, the young men turned and looked to the elder.

He signed, to the group, that four warriors should follow the men and make sure they weren’t circling back to cause problems.

One young man stepped forward and three of his friends joined him.

The leader nodded his approval and they marched down the path.

The rest of the warriors stepped back so that the chief was left alone with Meg and me.

I dropped to my knees and held the mattock across my open palms, offering it to our savior; Meg did the same thing with the hatchet.

The old man picked up my tool and studied it. When he was finished, he put it back in my hands. He did the same thing with Meg’s.

I pushed my palms up & out – to clarify that I was offering it to him – and he shook his head “no”.

He took the mattock in one hand and the hatchet in the other – and then handed them back to each of us.

Meg went and got the pitcher of fish; I went and grabbed some plastic bottles from my tarp-bag.

We returned to our places in front of him, kneeling again, and offered these as gifts.

He looked at the reclaimed milk jug – and then at the contents.

He signaled for one of the older women to come over – and then handed the container to her.

She nodded, took the jug, and headed off.

He took one of the plastic bottles from my hand and held it up, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

I took one I still held, unscrewed the lid, and poured the water into my open mouth.

He opened the one he had and took a small drink – then made a little face – probably from the slight plastic taste of the contents.

He signed for a young woman to come over.

She brought a skin bladder filled with liquid. She handed it to him.

He offered it to me, indicating that I should drink.

I took it and drank. There was a little “flavor” to it – but the water was cool and refreshing.

The chief indicated that I should give Megan a drink as well – so I passed it to her.

When she had finished, he took it from her hands and took a drink himself – then handed it back to the girl.

The chief indicated that we should stand up – so we did.

Villagers

When we were both on our feet, he stepped up to me, licked his thumb, and smeared the fluid on my forehead in a short stripe from my hairline to the bridge of my nose. He did the same thing with Megan.

At that point, Meg and I were separated a little as every villager gathered around.

What looked like every female in the vicinity came and gave Meg a hug.

Meanwhile, the chief extended his hand & arm towards me.

At first, I thought we were going to shake hands – which seemed kind of weird.

However, he reached in, grabbed the inside of my forearm in his fingers, and waited until I did the same.

He released his hold and stepped back.

One by one, each of the men – old and young – came up to me and repeated the gesture.

When our welcoming had been completed, we were ushered over to the central fire.

We were made to sit and were given coconut bowls containing dried berries and nuts – and the girl with the water-skin returned.

A bit later, the woman who had taken the fish came back – with a smooth wooden platter holding the results of her labor.

The chief joined us and the four of us shared the food we had given them.

When we were finished eating, the chief gave the woman a kiss on the mouth and she left us.

Since he hadn’t done that to any other female, we assumed she was his wife. Unfortunately, I’d already forgotten what she looked like.

The chief glanced up to see the four warriors returning.

The young man, that had volunteered first, approached and handed one of our oars to the chief. The oar had been broken in half.

From the signs they were making, I could tell that the lifeboat was still at our campsite – but that they needed help getting it.

The chief made signs that they would have to wait until morning.

The young leader looked at me and must have seen the smear on my forehead.

He walked over and I stood to my feet.

One by one, the four young men welcomed me to their group, smiling and nodding.

Within a few minutes, the sky started darkening and I realized we had spent more than half of the day on the run.

As we sat around the fire, watching the general activities of the sizeable group, I could feel myself nodding off.

I don’t know how many people they usually have keep watch, but it seemed like there was an above-average amount of interest in making sure that all sides of the village were kept secure all night – and would probably stay that way for at least a couple days.

Meg had been sitting next to me this whole time. I felt her lean against me and a snore escaped her mouth.

The chief looked at my sleeping sister and then at me.

He signed for the younger woman to return and she went to try to pick up Meg’s pack.

She struggled a little but lifted it.

I got Meg to her feet and went to retrieve my pack as my zombie-sister stood with her eyes closed.

I showed the young woman how to place the strap over her shoulder and she flipped the pack around.

Once it was in place, she grinned at me, acknowledging that it was a lot easier to carry that way.

She took one side of Megan and I took the other.

She led us to one of the huts not far from the center of the village.

It was dark enough that I couldn’t see very well – and the girl had not brought a torch or anything with us – so I could not see inside the structure.

I grabbed the flashlight out of a side-pocket on my pack and turned it on, playing it over the interior of the hut. It was mostly empty except for a two-person cot to the left side of the space that was roughly a ten-foot by ten-foot square.

The home’s floor wasn’t solid. Spaces between the bamboo and other poles, used as floorboards, appeared to allow cooler air to enter from below. Presumably, hotter air would be released through vents in the roof. I played my light above me but couldn’t immediately spot them.

We steered my zombie-sister to the pallet-bed and I dropped my pack to the floor.

The village girl did the same and then left the hut, closing the reed-door behind her.

I felt the rough mattress with my hands. While not the quality of what we had at home, it was much better than being on the ridged flooring – or the pest-infested ground.

I dug my hammock out of my pack.

I got Megan to lie down, taking off her shoes & socks when she did. I took mine off and lay down as well, pulling the hammock over us like a light cover.

My pack was close – in case I needed to dig out my sweatshirt – but it was still pretty warm – and didn’t feel like it was going to cool off much.

Megan snuggled up against me and I wrapped an arm around her to support her head & neck.

Within seconds, I was asleep as well.

Day 3

Shortly after the sunlight started pulling me out of Dreamland, I heard a tapping at the door of our domicile. Our hostess had returned. She signed that we should get ready for the day and then stood outside and waited.

Since there was nowhere – so far – to clean up, we kept yesterday’s clothes on, threw on our socks & shoes, and shouldered our packs.

Outside, our guide led us back to the central fire, where several others were gathering.

In short order, the chief appeared and gave us tasks for the day.

Handing me the broken oar pieces, he signed that I should go with the team from yesterday – with six additional fellows. I assumed we were going to retrieve the dinghy – and probably whatever else they decided was useful.

That was fine with me. Obviously, our old campsite was no longer tenable – since the ship’s crew seemed to have nefarious intentions on either my sister – or me – or both.

For now, it seemed prudent to stick with the villagers who had saved us without seemingly asking anything in return.

Megan was directed to follow the chief’s wife.

This would be the first time we would be separated since we had started this adventure. I went to her and gave her a hug.

“Be careful,” I whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied, also in a whisper, “Grab anything we left behind that we forgot.”

I kissed her cheek and released her.

Walking back to my team of coworkers, I noticed the chief nod slightly.

I nicknamed our crew-leader “Joshua” in my head. I started trying to figure out names for the other nine young men.

Each carried the same kit they’d had yesterday – a spear with a bone or stone head, a sling, a knife (some were a one-piece design – some were like a biface lashed to a wooden handle).

I estimated we’d traveled about halfway back to our old campsite when Joshua hand-signed that the team should get ready for combat.

The warriors were readying their spears and ignoring their slings so I wasn’t sure what we were up against. I pulled out my mattock.

The young men started moving forward and quickly spread themselves out around their quarry.

Each warrior had their spears pointed at the big reptile – an eight-foot crocodile.

Nobody was stabbing it; they just appeared to be trying to keep it from escaping.

Joshua got his knife out.

I tried to figure out what they were up to. They had plenty of spears. They could easily turn this thing into a pin-cushion – assuming they could flip it over.

Instead, they were trying for some kind of critical strike.

I finally deduced that they were attempting to avoid ruining the hide any more than possible – which would reduce its usefulness.

I barked at Joshua and he looked at me. I made a sign of slamming the point of my pick down into the thing’s head.

He looked at the mattock – at the beast – and back at me again – then put his knife away and grabbed his spear.

He signed to me that he would get the thing’s attention and that I should try to jump on its back and bring the point down just behind its eyes as hard as possible.

I gave him a thumbs-up and he seemed to understand that I meant I was good with the plan.

Joshua and two others approached a little closer and the big reptile hissed at them and bit at their spears.

I leapt from near its right, rear leg onto its back and attempted the strike.

It moved its head as I landed astride of its body and my thrust glanced off the side of its neck.

I don’t know if it knew what I was up to or not – but it didn’t like me having the higher ground – and tried to wiggle me off.

Joshua lunged at its snout with his spear and jabbed a nostril – which sent its attention back to him.

As soon as it quit thrashing side-to-side, I brought the pick down as hard as I could.

The pick-point didn’t go in very far – but it was enough to stun the beast.

I quickly yanked the weapon out and slammed it down again – trying to hit the same spot.

This time, it breached the tough hide – as well as the skull – and the monster stopped moving.

I hadn’t noticed any of the young men carrying coils of rope but suddenly several appeared and the crocodile’s legs were tied. I assumed it was a safety precaution – with which I whole-heartedly agreed.

Poles were gathered – or cut – and soon our prize was mounted on a carrying rack.

This rack was strung between two trees, not far off of our path.

After that, we paused for drinks from our skins and then we headed on to our original task.

An hour later, we arrived at the campsite.

The boat crew must have been mad about not getting their hands on Megan & me. They had torn up everything that was left at the old site – regardless of whether or not it had value.

They must have not been able to find anything else to bust up the dinghy with; the pistol-toter had simply fired all of his ammo into the bottom of the craft.

The other oar was broken in half as well. We collected it anyway.

I didn’t see anything else to grab.

We used more poles and more rope and, soon, we were headed home again – six of us carrying the boat – while the rest of the team rested until it was their time to swap in.

When we got back to the dead reptile, it was still where we had left it.

When they lifted it, I took a position under its tail. Now, everybody had a burden.

We still rotated the load every 15 minutes or so. We shifted from right to left, from boat to crocodile, and back again.

My stomach was growling like I hadn’t eaten in days when a runner met us.

Joshua signed to him. The scout turned around and darted off again.

We carried our cargo long enough to rotate one more time and a crew of fresh faces arrived to take our loads – and with new water-skins.

We sat for a quick breather – and refreshing drinks – before getting up to hike behind our reinforcements.

Almost a half-hour later, we arrived at the clearing at the edge of the village.

Once we were around the bend, near the first structures, our replacements halted and the members of our hunting party resumed our places, carrying our prizes into the camp.

The new guys piled in behind us, smiling.

At the central fire, we found the whole village assembled again.

We approached until we were ten feet from the chief and then we halted.

Joshua signed and we set our loads down.

Joshua approached the chief and stopped an arms-length away.

The old man clapped him on the shoulder.

Joshua turned and led the chief, and the elders, to the group.

He signed to the chief that we would need to repair the holes in the boat and replace the oars.

The chief seemed very pleased.

Approaching the crocodile, Joshua showed him the hole in the skull and pointed to me.

He signed to the front two carriers and they lifted the carcass to show that the hide was undamaged underneath.

Joshua made signs for me to show the chief the mattock – which he had seen before – so I pulled it out and held it across my palms.

The head elder nodded at me and then clapped me on the shoulder.

He turned and headed back to his normal place at the fire.

Joshua directed the teamsters to move the boat near one of the huts that looked to be some kind of crafting area.

The crocodile was moved to a different hut that looked to be a different kind of crafter – likely the butcher.

If their tanning process was anything like the middle ages, the tannery would be a good distance from where people with sensitive noses lived.

As we finished those tasks, Joshua led us back to the central fire – where we were given food & drink and allowed to sit & eat.

Megan assisted the young women as they followed the direction of the chief’s wife and the other older women.

I really wasn’t sure what I was eating – some kind of stew – but I was hungry enough that I wasn’t complaining.

It seemed to have some wild onions and peppers – but not enough to make me think it would cause problems – just enough to give it a little flavor.

After the meal, I was assigned to weapons practice – first with the spears everyone carried – and then with the sling.

I seemed to do well enough with the spear to get a quick sign-off – but my instructor just used the extra time to make me focus on my sling-work more. By the time we were ready for the evening meal, I was still barely above acceptable with it.

When we got to the central fire for dinner, they had arranged for a few pairs of young men to wrestle in a circle made of rope, laid out on the ground.

When they were finished, Joshua approached and invited me to wrestle him.

Assuming it was not negotiable, I agreed.

I followed what I’d seen the others do and tried to keep from embarrassing myself.

I attempted to remember some of the stuff my old karate teacher had taught me – but that had been when I was just a kid and – apparently – it doesn’t translate well to this kind of wrestling.

Within a couple minutes, Joshua pushed me outside of the circle without too much effort.

I was just glad he hadn’t thrown me.

We saluted each other and looked to the chief – who nodded at both of us.

Back at our seats, the young women started passing out the food and drink.

As soon as Megan had finished her assignment, she came and sat by me, curling into my side, “I’m so tired,” she moaned.

I snickered but realized I was exhausted as well.

I looked at her and nodded.

After dinner, there was a short contest between some of the teenaged boys on who could use their foot-sling to climb a coconut palm the fastest.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and woke to realize everyone was leaving the circle.

Our guide led me – and my sleepy sibling – back to what I had taken to calling the “guest house”.

I, honestly, don’t even remember undressing – but I didn’t have anything but my skivvies on the next morning. Megan woke in just her sports bra and panties. She didn’t remember taking her clothes off either. Although we had slept soundly, we were fairly sure we were headed into another grueling day.

Day 4

We met our guide as she was coming up the steps to our door. Wordlessly, she led us (as before) back to the central fire.

I hugged Megan before she headed off to her duties. She kissed the edge of my jaw – near my chin – it wasn’t my mouth – but it wasn’t my cheek either.

I turned to find that Joshua had assembled three teams of four warriors. He led the group as a whole – as well as the primary four-man crew. I was put in the second crew.

As we had traveled the previous day, I had tried to mimic the warriors’ ability to pass through the heavy underbrush soundlessly.

One of the men on my crew noticed me watching and made an extra effort to emphasize what he was doing with his hands – almost swimming through the foliage. He also helped make my steps quieter by showing me things to avoid stepping on.

They were barefoot – which might have helped – but (at least for now) I was keeping my hiking boots.

After several minutes of instruction, my self-assigned coach gave me a thumbs-up and indicated that I just needed to keep working on doing those things.

By the time we found a small herd of wild boar, I was doing much better.

I was surprised the animals hadn’t scented us. As I moved forward to my place, I saw that they were at some kind of spring-fed watering-hole – and were making enough noise to keep from hearing us. Their snouts were in the water – which was probably what helped keep them from smelling our team.

They had a kind of a scout off to one side – but we were coming in at a different angle and he hadn’t noticed us.

Joshua pointed out the targets for each crew. He indicated to me that I should switch my spear to my left hand and wield the mattock with my right.

I nodded and got ready.

Once the teams were primed, Joshua gave the sign and we broke cover and spread out quickly – trying to keep our prey trapped between us and the water.

My team was on the left flank and our target was making a run for the jungle.

The angle of our approach helped trap the quarry for the middle group.

Joshua’s squad was swinging wider to the right to chase down their fuzzy squealer – as he tried to dart toward the tree-line on their side.

I gave up attempting to track the other teams and focused on trying to do my part to support my crew.

One of our guys was quite a sprinter. He darted off and got enough of a lead on The Baconater to get him to slow – which gave the rest of us time to catch up and surround him.

The other three guys pinned him in until I could come up from behind and spike him like I had the croc. It only took me one strike this time.

We found a pole, trussed his feet together, and suspended him from it. We carried him back over to where the other teams were finishing their work.

Once everybody was ready, we refreshed ourselves from our water-skins and then refilled them at the little rock-covered spring.

We headed back for camp – taking turns carrying the wild hogs – as we had our loads the previous day.

I liked how this group seemed to make an effort to share any work that needed done – conserving everyone’s strength in case we needed it.

We dropped our kills off at the butcher’s hut and went to share in the noon meal.

After we had eaten, the chief took me to the other side of the village.

He found a vacant space in the cluster of stilted-huts – just off to the right of the main path. He gestured to me and then to the space.

I wasn’t quite sure initially but – after he repeated his hand signs a couple times – I signed what I thought he meant and he nodded.

Our 12-man team from the morning hunt would be working to build a hut for me and Megan.

The chief left us at the build-site and headed back to his place at the central fire.

I held a finger up to Joshua and went and found Megan’s hatchet.

It wasn’t a full axe – but it had to be better than whatever they were going to use.

Joshua split the team into two halves – one digging a hole and another digging up a palm tree to transplant.

I was on the first team. The relocated palm would be equidistance between our hut and the next closest one.

Although my shovel should have been superior to the coconut shells they were using, they apparently had much more practice at this than I did.

I threw the shovel back over by my pack and took one of the shells. I kept the mattock nearby in case we hit something that needed persuading.

Soon enough, the six men on my team had a hole seven feet wide and about that deep.

We were working in pairs – one in the hole – and one emptying the coconut onto the pile away from the edge of the small pit.

Somehow, I kept expecting us to hit water – since we were on an island – but we never did.

When we were finished, we went to check on the other team. They were just finishing their excavation.

All twelve of us worked to get the palm tree out of the hole. We shouldered the 20-foot beast and carried it across the distance to where my home would be. There, we worked together to lower it into the pit.

Once it was upright, four men held it in place while the rest of us returned the soil to the hole – packing it around the roots and trunk with our feet.

When the surface was level with the ground, we started transporting the rest of the pile back to the place where we had removed the tree.

We used stretchers of woven palm branches to carry the loose soil – scooping it onto the rig with coconut bowls and our hands.

Next, Joshua led us to a stash of palm trunks that had all been cut to about the same length.

We transported four of these posts to the work-site and then started digging holes to place them as the corners of the hut – about ten feet apart – measured by knots on a length of rope that Joshua had.

That same rope – but obviously with a different set of knots – was stretched between the opposing corners – to make sure the layout was square.

Once those were in place, we headed back to the supply area – but to a different pile – to get twelve posts that were six feet tall.

These were half-buried in a grid pattern. The top of each was chopped into a slight “V”. I dug out my tree saw – which helped that go faster.

Four 10-foot poles went into the top of the support to form the beams for the floor.

On top of those beams, we started lashing the bamboo poles and other staves or saplings that would form the floor.

While one team worked on that, the other half of the team was building the roof.

Once those two tasks were complete, the door – and the walls – which came pre-assembled from somewhere – went on quickly.

It was almost dark by the time we finished and – as we approached the central fire – it looked like everyone else had already eaten.

It had taken a lot of time – but we had finished it.

We ate our meal and then each of the eleven members of my home-building crew came and grasped arms with me again to congratulate me – and for me to thank them – for the work we’d done.

The chief and his wife approached with Megan in-tow. He led the way to our home.

When we arrived, he licked his thumb and gave the door his saliva blessing – then he came up and grasped arms with me.

The chief’s wife hugged Megan and then they turned to a small band of young women who had suddenly appeared.

Each one was carrying either palm branches, the burlap-like skins from the palm bark, or other materials.

Megan held the door and they entered our home and assembled the bed.

When they were finished, the chief and his wife returned with gifts. The old woman carried a pair of deer skins – which she gave to Megan. The chief brought the head of the crocodile that I had killed. He anointed it with his saliva and placed it just inside the door, along the wall to the right.

I’m guessing it’s supposed to be a ward against bad spirits or something.

The chief signed that we should stow our packs in the hut and follow him – so we did.

He led us back to the central fire – where it appeared the entire village had assembled.

In flowing gestures that almost looked like a dance, the chief told us that rain was coming.

The villagers looked happy at the announcement. Apparently, the rain would signal the end of whatever ritual we had been observing.

Once that proclamation had been made, everyone started heading off for their huts – so Megan & I did the same. I was definitely ready for some rest.

As soon as we were inside, Megan stripped down to her bra & panties and then laid the skins on top of our new bed. She grabbed the hammock we’d been using as a light cover and looked up at me, clearly expecting that I should be ready for bed by now as well.

I turned away from her, stripped to my briefs, and lay down beside her.

She threw the cover over, snuggled up against me, and started snoring.

Personally, I thought it was a little too hot for deer skins, covers, and sweaty sisters – but my brain didn’t leave me conscious long enough to worry about it more than a minute or two.

Day 5

Early the next morning, we awoke to the sound of rain on our new roof – the roof of our new home.

My teammates clearly knew what they were doing because, despite the fact that we’d built this thing in a little more than half a day, we were dry as could be in the rain that varied from a sprinkle to a cloud-burst.

Our guide appeared and we followed her to the central fire – which was smoldering.

Once everyone was assembled, the chief held up his hands and everyone quickly grew still.

And then – for the first time in three days – I finally got to hear his voice.

As he spoke, he still signed. It seemed like most of that was for our benefit – me and Meg – because everybody else looked like they knew the routine.

Since the last full moon – which seemed to coincide somewhat with midsummer – the tribe had been under a vow of silence.

The rains signaled the time of cleansing & renewal following the time of abstinence & sacrifice.

There would be no work this morning, everyone would bathe & cleanse themselves, and – when the morning rains had moved on – we would eat the noon meal – and prepare for the evening celebration.

Our guide returned. She took us back to our house. Once we were there, she asked for permission to enter – using words and hand-signs.

Inside, she told us to grab our shower things. Once we understood, she went outside and waited.

Megan and I turned away from each other, stripped off our clothes, changed into our swimsuits, and grabbed whatever else we needed.

Outside, our guide blushed and sent us back in to gather our dirty clothes.

When we’d done that, we followed her to the hut where she slept and waited while she gathered her things.

Just past our hut, there was a wide path that led off to the left of the central trail through the village.

We (and several other people) followed this until we could hear the ocean.

The cloud-bursts had mostly stopped – but there was still a steady drizzle coming down.

Along the way, our guide tried to exchange names with us.

Neither side succeeded in mastering the pronunciation of the other – but hers was something like Heather – sort of.

Heather led us to a lagoon that was, apparently, the male side of the “bathhouse”.

Once I knew where I was headed, she and Megan left and, presumably, headed to the girl’s lagoon.

Before they left, she handed me a lumpy mass and told me it was some kind of soap.

I found a place for my things at the edge of the greenery, stuck my bar of soap in my pocket, and went for a swim. The water felt amazing.

It seemed like I was not the only one who was enjoying simply relaxing in the gentle waves.

Most of the men were naked but a few had some kind of shorts or breach-cloth on.

Feeling refreshed, I took out the lumpy soap and worked it through my hair. A warning for those who travel this path, keep the stuff out of your eyes!

Clean hair – or as clean as this would make it – turned me into a real person again.

I scrubbed the rest of my body and went for a little swim to rinse myself.

Finished with that, I collected my dirty clothes, got them wet, scrubbed them with the soap and then – following what the others were doing – laid them on the sand – just within reach of the light waves – and walked back and forth on them.

Once they were looking less dingy & gray, I wrung them out, carried them up, and collected my things.

I went back to the place where the girls had dropped me off to find them coming up the path.

They were both smiling – obviously feeling as good as I was at being clean again.

I tried to return the soap to Heather but she told me to hang onto it.

Back inside the house, she showed us how to rig up a clothesline for our unmentionables. She intimated that most people hung those with the rest of their clothes – outside – but she thought Megan’s undies were different enough that she said she might want to hang them inside instead.

Outside, between our new palm tree and the hut, we hung a line for the rest of the clothes.

Once Heather was headed to her home, I carried my briefs and swim-trunks back inside – and hung them with my sister’s delicates.

Since we had about an hour before the midday meal, Megan and I took a little time to go through our packs and straighten them up – after our mad-rush to escape the angry boat-crew.

We also spent time catching each other up on our adventures over the last couple days.

Although she’d already figured out the basics, I filled her in on the details of the boat-retrieval – as well as my two hunting adventures.

She told me about the food-prep and other basic skills she’d been learning.

We were both curious to see what would change now that everybody could talk again.

I kind of assumed that hunting-trips would still be mostly hand-signals – at least until we were headed home – but (then again) moving quietly as we returned was usually just as good of an idea as when we were scouting.

Megan was looking forward to enjoying some juicy gossip.

Based on that idea, I felt sure that she would be mastering the natives’ spoken language before I would be.

Before we knew it, Heather was back and we were headed to lunch.

At the central fire, the women were forming assembly lines – preparing dough and toasting it on stone griddles near the fire.

As the flatbread came off of the fire, it was loaded onto platters.

Meanwhile, the men were carrying platters to where a boar – apparently – had been buried in a coal-filled pit on the night of the full moon.

The hog had been slow-roasting for three days and was super tender.

The top-soil was carefully cleared away until we got down to the burlap-like palm-bark that blanketed the roasted swine and kept the debris away.

One of the older men climbed down into the cleared hole with his knife and opened up the side of the beast.

The air filled with a divine smell that made my mouth start watering.

An assembly-line of empty platters entered the pit, were filled by guys who knew what they were doing, and exited the other side loaded with our lunch.

Once the carcass was clean – and everybody’s hands were full – we headed back to the girls.

Each person got a piece of flat-bread, folded it like a taco, filled it with roasted pork, and then found a place to sit and eat – trying to keep as much of the juice away from their bodies as possible while devouring the deliciousness.

It was amazing. If I could leave a Google review, it would have sooo many stars ..

Anybody who wasn’t too stuffed to move could get seconds after everybody had been through the line.

I couldn’t move. That was absolutely the most I had eaten in what felt like years.

Had we, seriously, only been on this island for less than a week?!

The rains had stopped soon after we had returned from our baths and doing the laundry.

The ground was still damp – but I really wanted to just find a shady spot and take a nap.

Joshua walked towards us and I realized my window of opportunity had just evaporated.

He gathered a crew and it looked like we were going fishing.

Heather came to get Megan and they headed off to their chores.

I signed to Joshua that I’d be right back and went to grab my hammock-net.

He looked at it curiously when I returned but didn’t say anything.

I’d been fairly successful with my untraditional approach to things lately – so I think he was giving me the benefit of the doubt.

When I returned, everybody else seemed to be ready – so we headed towards the lagoons.

Once we were there – and the rest of the crew was heading to their favorite fishing spots – I unfolded the net and talked Joshua into helping me walk it through the chest-deep water.

Within a few minutes we had a dozen fish. We delivered these to palm-leaf baskets on the shore and then went out again. Several minutes later, we had another dozen.

After we dropped those off, Joshua was studying the net more closely. We moved a little to the left and repeated the process – gathering in another ten fish.

The traditional fishermen were having pretty good luck as well and – in less than an hour – our baskets were full.

We carried the baskets over to where two men had dug a pit.

At that point, everybody got their knives out and started cleaning fish.

Joshua watched me – with my blade for a bit – and then asked to trade. I warned him that it was very sharp.

Honestly, his knife wasn’t dull. It went through the fish almost as easily as mine had.

We traded back and he remarked about how tough the metal blade was.

When we were finished, I wiped it clean with some leaves and a little water from my water-skin. I thought about cleaning it in the lagoon but was worried about the salt.

I didn’t think the others would have those concerns – but I noticed they were using their water-skins as well.

We gathered up the baskets and headed back to camp.

When we arrived, the chief seemed a little concerned that we’d returned too early but – once he saw the baskets were full – he was elated.

Joshua told him about my net. We demonstrated how it worked. He looked it over and nodded.

The baskets went to the women. Meanwhile, we were tasked with building several cook-fires around giant stone pots – and a couple more with spits above them.

Joshua led us to the butcher’s place, where we retrieved two of yesterday’s hogs – ready for the spits.

As we were getting those in place – and setting the rotation for running the spits and trimming off the cooked meat, the women started fish stew in two of the big pots.

The butcher arrived with the meat from the crocodile and that went into the remaining pot.

An hour or so later, things were progressing towards a feast that dwarfed the lunch that I already thought had been too much!

Obviously, the chief was aware that I was the only one who didn’t know what we were getting into because – as he started making his rounds through the various cooking stations – to taste the product and declare it satisfactory – he invited me to tag along.

The gator-stew (croc-pot?) was a little peppery but that reduced the gaminess.

If there was a difference between the two fish stews, I couldn’t taste it. It was similar to the sort of chowder dish that I had accidentally made our first day on the island – but with herbs added that made it much more hearty.

The grilled pork – being carved off of the spitted-hogs was more plain but who can say “no” to a barbeque?!

On top of that, we still had plenty of roast left from lunch and that was being warmed up on a griddle – bit by bit – as the new load of flat-bread was coming off the fire nearby.

The whole camp smelled like an episode of Diners, Drive-In’s, and Dives.

Dinner time came and everybody helped themselves to whatever they wanted to eat – it was an island buffet.

I started with a bit of the crocodile, hoping the peppers wouldn’t cause me problems.

For some dumb reason, I suddenly realized I hadn’t had to take a crap since we’d arrived.

After eating too much at lunch, however, I knew that was changing.

I was going to have to ask Heather or Joshua were the little warrior’s room was.

I looked at Megan who must have read my mind because she pointed to where two small huts were tucked down a short path off to the side of the camp.

She tried the crocodile but went for the chowder instead. Both of us had a piece of flatbread that we were using to scoop up the soupier parts of our meal.

When I finished the reptilian stew, I opted for a little more of the roast from lunch. Although I liked how the spitted-meat had crisped up a bit, the flavor in the slow-roasted meat was unbeatable.

Megan stopped after the chowder and we just relaxed as everybody else finished their food.

Once everyone was done, the chief stood and made an announcement that the kids were headed off to their homes.

A few families only had one kid. Depending on their age, they were picked up by families with teens but, soon, the only people left around the fire were those who were married – or old enough to marry.

As the kids headed off, the leftovers were stored away and all of the food-prep items were returned to their places.

Decisions

Dusk was falling. Big stone jars of some kind of fruit juice were brought out.

Each person produced or – in our case – was provided – a coconut bowl or a wooden cup.

Once everybody had filled their drinking-vessel, the chief offered a toast – celebrating the end of the time of purification – and a prayer – calling on the island spirits to bring blessings on the tribe – health, successful hunts, peaceful homes, and strong babies.

When he had finished the prayer, everyone raised their glasses to the sky and then drank deeply.

The beverage was fruity – and fermented. Even with one solid drink, I felt like my body was humming. My head wasn’t spinning but I was feeling pretty happy – and energetic. I tried another sip – which turned into a drink as the liquid danced across my taste-buds.

It was kind of like sangria – with a little minty bite. It wasn’t my favorite medley of flavors – but it was like cold water on a hot day – I just couldn’t stop taking another sip.

I looked over at Megan to see what she thought; she kissed me on the mouth and went to refill her wooden mug.

I licked my lips – feeling where she’d kissed them – and watched her walk back to the stone jug.

Her steps weren’t sloppy or cautious like she’d just chugged a tumbler full of fruit wine.

I looked down at my cup and realized she’d taken it with her.

Not for the first time, I noticed that my sister had a nice ass – but I usually looked away a little faster than I did this time.

Megan returned with tumblers refilled with the intoxicating beverage and sat close.

The chief and his wife stood and walked closer to the fire. They put their arms around each other and started slow-dancing.

There was no one playing music but it was almost like we could hear the melody they were dancing to.

The other village elders stood – with their spouses – and joined the chief & his wife.

After that, the other married couples started joining the sensual display.

As we watched, Joshua approached Heather and asked her to dance. She smiled, took his hand, and they joined the others.

Soon, Megan and I were the only ones not dancing.

Watching them hold each other, cuddle, and kiss was just as intoxicating as the drink.

Sometimes couples would return to their drinks, refresh themselves, and then go back to dancing.

Megan downed the rest of her glass, stood, and reached for my hand. I hesitated for only a moment before I finished my drink and stood. She folded her arms around me.

My arms went around her and I realized my hands were a little more on her ass than they were on her hips. I thought I should probably move them – but I didn’t.

Megan’s arms went around my shoulders and she drew me in for a kiss. That was not a kiss that a sister gives to her brother!

“Megan.”

“Mikey.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea. I think that drink has something in it.”

“It’s okay.”

“Megan. I’m serious. I don’t feel drunk but, like, all my inhibitions are melting. We need to get some water and stay out of that shit.”

I stared straight into my sister’s brown eyes as her lips targeted mine.

That last kiss had been the kiss after a first date – a first date that had gone really well and guaranteed a second date.

This kiss? This kiss was the kiss of a lover in the afterglow of a steamy climax. Holy shit!

Megan was no longer my little sister; Megan was the hot classmate I had wanted for years but never confessed to. She was the cheerleader I’d drooled over but was always unapproachable. She was that smart nerdy girl in the librarian glasses who fulfilled every criterion in a computer nerd’s checklist of the perfect girl – who spent his nights jerking off to the vaporous imaginings of what she looked like naked. I was in love; I was in lust; I was in heat. I needed to satisfy her; I needed to hear her scream my name as I pumped her full of babies!

“Megan,” I moaned.

Her lips were on mine again. The last of my resistance was disappearing. The last bit of oxygen-infused air was sucked out of my lungs – and I succumbed.

When Megan stopped kissing me this time, I realized I had my right hand on her breast and my left hand cupping her ass, pulling her closer.

Without another word, we gathered our things, grabbed our mugs, stopped at the cauldron to refill them, and headed for our hut – hand-in-hand.

We were too focused on each other to notice that every other couple was leaving the fire to do the same thing.

Inside, our drink glasses went on the floor – by the crocodile’s head; our clothes went into a pile nearby; and our bodies came together on the bed.

I expected my sister’s legs to be thrown open by the time I got to the rustic mattress but her knees were together – so I laid down beside her – on my side.

She pulled my face to hers – kissing me lustfully again – her body telling me that she wanted this.

There was still a small voice in my head, reminding me this wasn’t socially acceptable but that little voice was also just a tiny bit curious about what my cock was going to feel like – buried in my sister’s cunt.

Megan was still kissing me. I had one hand behind her head – the other was groping her perfect breasts and pinching her stiff little 22-calibre nipples.

One of my sister’s hands was under my chin – the other was cupping my balls and groping my fuck-stick.

Once she had, apparently, gotten the kiss she wanted, she rolled me onto my back and straddled my waist.

Her hands on my chest, she lowered her crotch until it was just above the deerskin cover of our mattress. As she leaned forward – lips moving towards mine – her smoldering pussy cuddled my stiff rod – pressing against it – trapping it between her gorgeous gash and my soft abs.

Slowly, tauntingly, she dragged the tight lips of her quim along the underside of my aching man-meat.

As her soft folds reached the lower rim of my needy knob, I held my breath.

She slid forward just a little more.

When the head of my cock was nestled against her fuck-hole – cuddled by her labia – she rocked back & forth in the tiniest of strokes – rubbing her slit on my cockhead – bumping it against the bottom of her distended clitoris.

I was grinding my teeth – trying to resist the intense desire to grab her hips – and plunge my sex-organ into my little sister.

She slid forward a little more and then dropped back down – a centimeter – an inch – a span – a foot!

Without moving her hands, she had managed to impale herself on my aching dick!

I started to grab her hips and she slapped my hands away.

She sat up, her feet beneath her, and started slowly fucking herself on my cock.

I started to lunge for her breasts and her hands intercepted – locking her fingers into mine.

I held her hands as she quivered through one orgasm – and then a second – never stopping her gentle strokes – fucking herself on my hard dick.

After she’d come down from her second climax, she released my fingers, placed my hands on her hips, pinched her nipples, and moaned, “Go.”

I had never wanted to fuck somebody so badly in my life!

Her pussy felt so good – softly sliding up & down my penis – but I needed to fuck!

I grabbed her waist and started thrusting up into her – while simultaneously slamming her hips (and cunt) down onto my cock – harder and harder – faster and faster.

She was so tight! She felt so good! If I drove in deeply enough, I could just brush my sensitive head against the entrance to her womb.

Megan leaned forward to take my face in her hands again – and gave me another “fuck me” kiss.

That angle let me drive deeper – but it wasn’t the stimulation I was looking for.

I stopped thrusting into her, grabbed her feet (one at a time) and pulled them out from under her.

Once she was sitting on my dick, I spun her around to face my feet – then I pushed her ankles forward so that her legs were next to mine.

I grabbed her hand-sized breasts from behind and pulled her back to my chest – and the head of my cock was brushing against the back of her belly-button.

She seemed to like this as much as I did.

I gave her breasts one last squeeze and then grabbed her hips and started fucking the loving shit out of her pussy.

“Mikey! Oh, Mikey! Oh! Fuck, yes! Oh, fuck, Mikey! Fuck my naughty pussy, Mikey! I love you so much! I want babies, Mikey. Give me your babies. My tiny titties will fill with milk and you & the baby can suck my titties! I want to cum on your cock while you suck the milk from my breasts. Fuck me, Mikey! Fill my pussy up with your hot cum!”

The stimulation of the underside of my cockhead dragging against her vaginal wall, the grasping & pulsing of her pussy, and the vulgar, incestuous, wanton words she moaned, the sounds she made, the sounds our bodies were making – all of these things worked together to build the most intense orgasm I’d ever had.

When I cum, I usually push in deep & hold still – trying to deliver my hot spunk as close to my lover’s uterus as I can.

Not this time. Megan had lit my fuse. She had fired me up so much I knew that once wasn’t going to be enough. I also couldn’t stop fucking her gorgeous body. I was a madman. I was a drooling barbarian in a blood-haze – fighting until I passed out or died.

My cock was firing off spurt after spurt of the baby-batter my sister had requested – and I kept fucking, grinding, and pounding – trying to reach another orgasm – so I could flood my sister’s pussy with another load of incestuous semen.

When the last of the seminal fluid had drained from my testes – and blasted into my sweet sibling – I ran out of juice – literally.

I released my hold on my sister’s sweaty body and relaxed – my arms flung to the mattress – I was exhausted – completely wrung-out.

Megan climbed off of me and tried to catch my spunk that was oozing from her quim. She grabbed her shirt from the floor and used it to clean herself up.

She went to her drink and downed the rest of it – then she grabbed mine and brought it over.

I was thirsty – so I took it and drained the glass.

Megan looked at my naked body, lying spread-eagle on the rough mattress, and licked her lips, hungrily.

She tossed my wooden tumbler over by the bodyless reptile and crawled between my knees.

The lust-juice was already taking effect. Even now, my cock was stiffening again – despite fucking the hell out of my sister moments ago.

Megan grabbed my dick and started licking it clean like a kid with a soft-serve ice cream cone on a blazing summer day – trying to catch all the tasty drips before they could run down their arm.

The sex-sangria had started the job – but my sister was determined to finish it.

Just when I thought I was going to have to call her off, she popped the whole damned thing in her mouth, gave it a hard suck, and then crawled up my body to kiss me lustfully while sliding her sloppy cunt down on my dick again.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?” I asked her.

“Only when I’m riding their fucking cock,” she giggled.

“Are we good?” I asked, a little concerned.

“If you’re asking if you’re about to be a daddy, the answer is no – I’ve still been taking my pills,” she said, “but I’m not planning on stopping fucking you – even when tonight is over – and I only have about a month’s worth of pills left – so we’re either going to have to be very careful – or – there’s no or. I’ve seen enough videos to know that ‘careful’ is never good enough – we’ll end up being mommy & daddy to the most adorable little girl you’ve ever spoiled the hell out of.”

“A girl?”

“Bet you a blowjob.”

“Wait – do I get the blowjob if I win – or if I lose?”

She grabbed my face and wedding-day kissed me again while her pussy started sliding up and down on my cock.

“Fuck, Meg!”

“I’m trying, little brother.”

“Little?!”

She kissed me again, “I’m just fucking with you. It fits perfectly. I love how you feel inside of me. I hate that prick for what he did to us but I am so happy with how this has turned out. You’ve always looked out for me and I adored you. I feel so complete when I’m with you.”

“You called me a bully!” I complained.

“You’re a whining little shit. Happy? Would you please make love to me? I loved how rough you were before but I want to cuddle and kiss you while you make love to me.”

I looked up at her face – the face of the woman who used to be my little sister. It felt like we’d been through Hell and back again. I had to admit that I really couldn’t see myself being this in love with anybody else.

She wrapped her feet behind my legs & ass – to hold herself in place. I rolled us sideways and continued until I was on top of her – my dick trapped inside of her slender, carnal cavern as she clung to me.

It was going to be tough to fuck her if she continued to cling this tightly ..

I leaned forward to give her a little peck on her cute, little nose and she wrapped her arms around my head and pulled me in for another illicit kiss.

Her legs opened up – her knees nearly falling back to the rough mattress – but her toes were still tucked in under my ass-cheeks – pulling me into her body. I was surprised she wasn’t getting a Charlie-horse by now.

As we kissed, I slowly started fucking my cock in and out of my sexy sibling.

I really wasn’t sure how we were going to explain this to mom & dad – if we ever got out of here – but I was pretty sure Megan & I were going to be husband & wife (and mommy & daddy) in every way except on paper.

My sister’s tongue, prying its way into my mouth, interrupted thoughts of law & logic – so I gave that up and made love to the woman who made my life as complete as she said that I did hers.

Sometime after filling her with another load of baby-batter, I gave her another non-brotherly kiss and rolled off of her.

She stayed on her back – obviously trying to keep all of my dangerous drizzle inside of her – but we kissed & cuddled until we both fell asleep.

Day 6

Shortly after daybreak, Heather showed up at the door.

Even through the slats in the door, we could see that she was glowing like she’d just been fucked.

Ignoring the fact that we were both still naked, Megan went to the door, grabbed her and pulled her inside for a hug.

Once they were done, she turned and faced the door while Megan & I got dressed.

We followed her to the central fire where everyone was cleaning up the detritus from last night’s party.

Once that work was done, everybody headed down to the lagoon to bathe – I swear the whole village smelled like sex.

Back at camp, I was assigned to the tool-makers. Several of the teenaged males joined us and the older men taught us. We learned the right rocks to look for, the beginning processes of splitting them, and the art of knapping the stones to turn them into sharp tools or weapons.

After lunch, we returned and they took us to an area with the kinds of stones we needed and let us demonstrate what we’d learned.

I found three that I thought would work but my mentor shook his head “no” at one of them so I started to throw it to the side.

He motioned for me to keep it anyway – so I stood and waited for the others to get their rocks.

Ready for the next step, we all returned to the crafting area and set to work.

My instructor took the rock that wouldn’t work as a blade or a biface and smashed it into the ground until it stayed. He showed me how to set the piece that I was working on atop that stone to use it as kind of an anvil to hold my working-piece steady as I used the other stone to chip away – or knapp the edge.

I looked for the fissures or grains in the rock that I was supposed to pick out – to use those to guide how the stone would come apart – and to leave me with a solid piece that would become the blade.

We spent the rest of the afternoon working on our tools – with the guides wandering from student to student to check our progress and offer advice.

My hands were stiff and sore – and I’d smashed a finger at least twice – but I’d ended up with two decent bifaces when I was finished.

One was big enough that it might be used as a hatchet; the other would be a spear-point.

Since we hadn’t gotten to that part of the instruction today, I kind of assumed that was on the docket for tomorrow.

When Megan brought the food over for us to eat, I captured her face in my hands and gave her a kiss.

“Wash those hands before you eat,” she complained.

She set the platters down and I fished out my water-skin.

She drizzled water over my hands while I got the worst of it off and brushed them clean – sort of – on my pants.

She returned the skin to me, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and kissed me back.

Heather swatted her on the ass as she passed by with her plate and Megan squeaked.

When we looked over at her, she was wagging a finger at us. We took that as a sign that PDA wasn’t permitted at the fire when everybody was present.

We ate our food and talked about what we’d learned that day.

After dinner, Joshua and Heather came over and invited us to go for a walk.

Once we were out of eyesight of the rest of the camp, Joshua and Heather held hands.

Megan reached over and swatted Heather on the ass and Heather just cackled at her and pulled Joshua off at a jog.

Megan took my hand and we followed.

We passed the lagoons and came to a trail that climbed up a rocky hill.

There was a rugged path and we followed this to the top.

At the summit, there was a small, flat area of dirt that was just big enough for the four of us to have room to roam around without knocking each other off.

Based on the position of the sun, there was a large landmass off to the southeast. It might have been the mainland – or it might have been another large island. It was too far away to tell.

Since I could just make out the basic features, I estimated that it was about 20 miles away.

At this point, I was pretty happy with where we were at – and how things were going.

We needed to stay long enough to be forgotten by Ridley – although it might not hurt to let our family know that we were still alive.

We stayed on the summit until the sun started to drop – looking around at the size of the island we were on – and spotting other, smaller islands nearby.

We also did a little bit of kissing & cuddling – since that seemed to be why Heather and Joshua had come up here.

As dusk fell, we walked back into camp – and headed for our hut.

We were both naked almost as soon as the door closed.

Megan laid her beautiful self down on our bed and I admired her gorgeous body in the last light of the day.

“There’s no turning back after this,” I cautioned, “We can’t blame this on their sex-juice.”

“My mind was made up after the first 48 hours on the island,” Megan said, “it just took the juice to give me the courage to convince you.”

“I simply don’t want to fuck your life up. I could just walk away – but this will destroy your future.”

“You would walk away from me?”

“I said ‘could’ – but no – I couldn’t – I just want to make sure you’re sure.”

“You’ve always been good to me. I just want you to keep being good to me. Promise me you will never leave me.”

“You’re my sister, how can I leave you?”

“I don’t want to be your sister anymore – or not JUST your sister. I want to have your babies.”

“What about birth defects?”

“Based on what I’ve studied, fetuses with problems generally self-terminate. If we have a kid with special challenges, we’ll deal with it – like anybody else would. I’d much rather have a special needs kid with you than a normal kid with that Ridley fucker.”

As I started to approach the bed, she bent herself in half and grabbed her ankles – leaving just enough of a gap between her knees that I could lean in to get a kiss – which I did – as I slid my cock into its favorite place.

I wrapped my hands around her hands around her ankles and fucked my willy deep into my sister until it bumped against her womb.

“Mmm. Keep doing that,” she cooed.

Megan had already orgasmed once when I got to a decision-point.

“Megan,” I warned.

“You don’t have to keep asking – do it,” she ordered.

“I just want to be sure,” I said.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too – now stuff me like a Christmas goose.”

“More like an éclair ..” I laughed.

“Fine,” she said, “fill me with your crème until it’s exploding from all of my holes.”

I tried my best to do as she had requested.

As I finished, she released her ankles so I released her hands. I leaned forward and tried to show her how much I loved her with my lips – kissing her mouth, her face, her neck – and detouring for a quick nibble at each breast.

I eased off of her and laid on my back.

Megan pulled her panties back on and climbed on top of me, kissing and cuddling.

I wrapped my arms around her upper-body and trapped her hips in place with my thighs and knees.

I looked into those dark brown eyes, as they stared back into mine.

“Hey,” I grinned.

“Hey,” she grinned back.

“I really think we should hold off on the baby-making until we’re somewhere that has a hospital.”

“Stop being so fucking worried about this shit, will you?” she complained, “but I see your point. I still think it’ll be fine – but I’ll talk to Heather. I think she and Joshua have been involved for a while and they don’t have kids yet – so they must know something ..”

I gave her a little peck on the lips.

“I know I’m probably worrying too much.”

“You are – you always do – but that’s part of why you’re a good, big brother.”

“Big?”

“Modestly above average – nothing to call ABC7 about.”

I pouted.

She bit my lip and then laughed at me when I looked hurt.

I squeezed her to my chest a little tighter.

She laid her head, sideways, under my chin and we fell asleep. My arms were still wrapped around her when we woke up.

Day 7

“How long have we been here?” Megan asked as we were getting dressed.

“We came to the village at the end of our second full day on the island.”

“I don’t know how you remember this shit.”

“We’ve been here four days: boat & croc day, pig day, sex with my sister day, and stone tool day.”

“I guess it’s easier when you say it that way. It’s hard to believe that it was just over a week ago that we were getting off of the plane.”

We met Heather, coming to check on us, and headed for the central fire.

Megan went to learn more about foraging, herbs, and cooking and I – as I’d guessed – headed to learn how to turn my products from yesterday into something more useful.

In the morning, we worked on turning my bigger biface into a hatchet.

We used thin, leather thongs – probably from the tanner – to connect the stone to the handle – but first I had to find a handle that fit. That took almost as long as turning the thing into a useful tool.

After lunch, I worked on a spear. I felt like it was a lot easier to find a good stave for that than it had been to find the handle for the axe.

After dinner, Joshua and Heather took us down to the lagoons – where we did a little skinny-dipping in the crystal-blue water.

Heather was a beautiful girl but I was very happy with the lover who had chosen me.

We cuddled and kissed for a while and then just floated in the gentle waves, chatting with the other couple, and trying to learn each other’s languages.

Dusk snuck up on us and we barely got dressed and back to the village in time to head into our hut to take our clothes off again.

I hadn’t tasted my sister yet. I decided to start our night by giving her a little lip-service.

“Mikey,” she said as I started, “shit, Mikey! Hey! I love what you’re doing but I don’t really like giving head – although I did kind of have fun licking your lollipop the other day.”

I stopped licking & nibbling long enough to say, “That’s okay.”

“Mmm. Fuck, Mikey! That’s really – uh! – nice!”

I’d had a girlfriend who’d liked 69-ing – and she’d been very helpful in improving my ability in this area.

Megan’s quim was a little salty – not so much from the swim in the lagoon – but it was a pleasant tang – so I was rather enjoying making her squirm.

I locked my hands onto her hips and kept her body still as she writhed from the intensity of the stimulation I was giving her slit and clitoris – with an occasional swipe of the tongue at her shit-hole.

“Oh! Fuck! Mikey! Don’t! Oh, fuck! You really shouldn’t lick .. Oh! Fuck! You ass! Fuck! Oh, fuck, Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! I’m .. uh! .. uh! .. fuck! .. I’m cumming! Mikey! Fuck!”

A burst of flavor splashed on my tongue as I thrust it in & out of her hole as she shuddered with orgasm.

As soon as that passed, I went back to rotating between clitoris, labia, piss hole, fuck hole, and shit hole – and back to the top of the batting-order.

When her breathing was under control again, I licked her from her pussy to her nubbin’ and then climbed up her body to her face – letting her taste her flavors on my lips & tongue.

“You’re nasty – but that was so good, Mikey. Thank you. Now please fuck me with that beautiful cock of yours.”

“Fucking or love-making?”

“I’ve already cum – fuck me full of your awesome sauce. I came so hard, I’m about to pass out. Fill me with your love and hold me while I dream about what our babies will look like.”

I sat back on my knees, rolled her onto her stomach, grabbed her hips, raised her ass up, and shoved my fuck-meat into her sex as far as it would go.

I held on tight and fucked myself with her tight, thin body.

Once I’d shot my wad in her – as close to her womb as I could reach – I swatted her on the ass and rolled off of her.

Lying on the mattress, next to her, I pulled my sister over to lie on my chest again.

I kissed her forehead as her eyes closed and she dozed off.

We kept the old hammock close by – but it was so hot here that we hardly ever pulled it over us.

It was really too steamy to be holding her body against me but I’d gotten too used to having her in my arms while I slept.

Day 8

We were up, rinsed off in the lagoon, and at the central fire before Heather came to look for us.

Megan was now learning to weave palm leaves into various useful articles.

The teenagers and I were headed to the butcher’s hut this morning.

Although the butcher wasn’t looking for an apprentice at the moment, the tribe still expected all of the adult males to know the basics of the craft.

When they hunted, here, they didn’t field dress their kills. The reason for that was that lots of the internal organs were used for things in the village that the civilized world got via other means.

The butcher touched on some of those things but, again, it was just the basics.

There weren’t any fresh kills so our hands-on training was fairly limited.

At lunch, I gave Megan a kiss as she brought the food we would share.

The naughty temptress rubbed the inside of my thigh after finishing her food, repeatedly bumping the back of her hand against my lengthening cock.

When I was finished eating, she leaned down, gave me a kiss, and left me sitting there – trying to figure out what to do with my hard-on as the group was gathering to head to the tanner’s.

After dinner, one of the little girls showed off a parrot that she had trained to do a little dance.

She had found it when it was injured as a youth and nursed it back to health.

Megan looked from the girl to me and then kissed my cheek.

Once the entertainment was over, my lover & I turned in early.

I stripped off my clothes and laid down on the mattress, thinking (as hard as possible) about Queen Elizabeth.

“What’s wrong with your dick?” Megan asked as she finished undressing.

“What? Oh. I don’t know. I think it needs a little help,” I replied.

“Does it?” she asked, grinning.

“Yeah. I think it got over-excited at lunch and now it’s confused.”

“Really?” she laughed.

She rubbed her tits, pinching her nipples, and ran her hands up & down her slender body – giving me a little sexy dance.

I tried to remember what Margaret Thatcher looked like. I’d seen her picture in an encyclopedia. An old book. Dry and dusty. Ancient.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she complained, aborting her little show.

Queen Elizabeth. Margaret Thatcher. Princess Di. Shit! No, she was actually kind of hot. Betty White. Phyllis Diller. The wicked witch of the West.

Megan was rubbing my cock – trying to get it to harden enough that she could stroke it.

I was losing focus. The square of the sides of a 90-degree triangle, added together, equal the square of the diagonal side. Two points make a line – or a ray; three points make a plane.

“Fine,” she growled. She peeled the foreskin back and sucked the head of my cock between her lips – teasing the underside with the tip of her tongue.

Game over.

My cock inflated like a balloon animal in the hands of a birthday clown.

My dick started wilting again ..

“What the fuck! What are you thinking about?” she complained.

“Birthday clowns,” I admitted, giggling.

“Well, knock that shit off!”

Frustrated that her pussy still hadn’t gotten any attention, she spun around, straddled my head, dropped her slit onto my face, and started fucking her quim against my nose & mouth.

The upside was, she was still sucking on my cock.

I grabbed her ass in my hands and went to work on her glorious gash.

She may not have LIKED 69-ing – but she was pretty fucking good at it.

She massaged my fun-bag and staff as she sucked my head like an oyster and fucked my cock with her lips, tongue, and throat.

I repeated what had worked for me the night before – and – within minutes, her spritz of tang was blasting my tongue as my cock started spewing rope after rope of semen into her mouth.

She sucked it all down and then spun around and forced me to taste my juices on her lips & tongue as I’d made her do the night before.

“You’re nasty,” I laughed.

“.. and you’re a bully,” she complained.

.. but she did give me a long, smoldering hot kiss.

We hugged and cuddled and kissed some more – and then fell asleep before it was even really dark.

Day 9

We hit the lagoon, bathed, came home, changed clothes, and got to the fire early again.

Today’s lesson was rope-making – using Hibiscus bark and some of the fibers from the burlap-like stuff that came from palm tree trunks.

I thought I was pretty good at this already, but I was much better by the time I headed for the midday meal.

After lunch, we went to see the crafters – who taught us how to get the coconuts to crack more cleanly – and then how to turn them into good bowls and other utensils.

When we’d mastered that, we worked on making some of the wooden platters like the tribe used at meal times. We also carved some spoons and ladles.

Obviously, Joshua and his team were still hunting while I was stuck in remedial villager school all day – because there was always plenty to eat.

I missed going with them. Hopefully, when I finished all my basic-training, I’d be able to go again.

After dinner, Megan was exhausted. We turned in early again but didn’t have sex. We kissed and cuddled and she fell asleep in my arms.

Days 10-12

Rain.

Megan and I went for an early swim and rinsed off in the heavy drizzle on the way back.

Nobody was at the central fire – so we went back to the hut and hung our things up to dry.

We lay on our cot and kissed, cuddled, and talked.

Around mid-morning, the rain cleared and everybody hustled to get things ready in time for the noon meal.

After lunch, my classmates and I hiked to a soapstone quarry where we picked out bowling-ball sized rocks that we carried back to the stone-worker’s hut.

There we learned how to use his tools to chisel, chop, and carve the stones into pots and bowls that would be used by the cooks.

I asked for permission to run home and returned with my mattock and shovel.

After showing them to the instructor, he gave me permission to use my personal tools to work the stone.

I used the shovel as a giant chisel and turned the mattock sideways to use it as a hammer to strike my makeshift chisel.

The soapstone is much easier to work with than the chert or flint – for the tool-making – but this was still going to be a multi-day process.

I tried to work out how to not waste all of the interior stone – but there was just no way to get the center of my future pot hollowed out without chipping away the parts that shouldn’t be there.

I started working down the sides anyway – just to see if I could save anything – and ended up with enough of a chunk to get a smaller bowl out of the mass in the center of my pot.

I had to be reminded to clean my hands, again, when we got to the evening meal.

Megan rode me – cowgirl style – until I flooded her pussy with cum again – and we passed out in each other’s’ arms.

I spent the next two days turning my block of soap stone into a cooking pot – with a smaller, matching bowl.

Honestly, it’s a good thing I had my cheater’s tools – because the village teenagers were still faster than me at this task – although they didn’t end up with two pieces like I did.

After dinner, the second day, Joshua & Heather were headed down to skinny-dip again before bed – so Megan & I joined them.

While we were there, they told us that they were planning to get married.

They asked us if we would take part in the ceremony.

We assured them that we’d do whatever they wanted – but reminded them that we’d need to be told what to do.

Day 13

Up with the dawn, Megan and I were getting used to the daily routine.

We’d spoiled our late night swim by having sex again but figured we’d get through the day without an early-morning bath – so we cuddled, kissed, and chatted until it was time to head to the central fire to get our assignments.

At the end of the day, when the evening meal was concluded, Joshua and Heather brought their parents before the elders.

Joshua made it known that he had chosen Heather as his mate.

The elders looked to his parents – who confirmed their consent.

The elders, then, looked to Heather. She stood in front of Joshua, facing the elders, reached back, grabbed his hands, and pulled them around her.

At that point, the elders looked to Heather’s parents. They confirmed their approval of the bonding.

Joshua was told to gather his hunters. He called out to me and four others.

Heather was told to gather her maids. She signaled Megan to join her – as well as four others.

Heather asked Megan and me if she could use our hut and we agreed.

She and her maids went to gather their things to move into our home.

Joshua sent the hunters to get their packs and prepare for the hunt.

I went home to pick up my pack, making sure I had my tools. I grabbed the hammock as well – not sure if I’d be allowed to use it.

By the time the hunters had their things, dusk was falling. I was getting a little nervous about what I’d signed on for.

After a few minutes of hiking, I thought I knew where we were headed – back to the rocky summit.

Joshua had a little flame in a bowl of palm oil and the rest of us had the makings of a fire.

Once we were at the top, the stars were the only thing in the dark sky.

We arranged kindling and got the fire started.

We set up a watch-rotation of three pairs of six. Since the middle shift is the worst – because you get two shortened sleep-cycles – I volunteered for that – as did Joshua – since this was his party.

The pair for the first watch stayed at the fire – while the other four of us went to try to get some rest.

I felt like I had just gotten to sleep when Joshua was prodding me to wake me.

I wiped the sleep from my eyes, left my hastily-made bedroll, and joined him at the fire.

Our firewood was running out so I told him, quietly, that I’d go find more fuel.

He argued against it, but I insisted.

Once I was far enough down the path that I didn’t think he could see, I dug out my flashlight – that made my task a lot easier – and kept me from stumbling into a couple boas that had found a quiet place to spend the night.

After several minutes, I was back on the path, flashlight in my pocket, carrying an armload of logs to get us through (hopefully) the rest of the night.

Joshua was much happier when I was back – both from worrying about me – and from an increased confidence that we wouldn’t need to go looking for more firewood.

We chatted quietly while the others slept. He told me that we would spend the next day hunting for something for him to give to Heather’s parents as a bride-price. Once that had been delivered – and accepted – we’d spend another night up here. Meanwhile, the girls were making Heather’s dress and preparing things she would need for their new home – like the mattress they’d made for us. After our second night, up here, we would build a hut for Joshua & Heather, using the communal supply piles. After that, we’d get cleaned up and ready for the ceremony. The girls would be in charge of getting Heather all dolled-up. When we left to get cleaned up, they would move all of the supplies into the new hut and then go get themselves ready. After a short ceremony – where the maids and the hunters would stand with the marriage couple – the pair would spend their wedding night in their new home – and would be exempt from work the following day – and then things pretty much went back to normal.

With no moon, I wasn’t sure how Joshua knew when it was time to wake our relief – but I was so tired I really didn’t care.

Despite the fact that I was, basically, sleeping on the hard ground, I felt pretty good in the morning.

Day 14

After stopping by the central fire for some fried bread and travel food, we headed to the watering hole where we’d found the boars the other day – to find nothing.

From there, we ducked back up the trail and headed to where we’d encountered the big crocodile.

I was beginning to think we were going to have to take my net fishing when we saw a buck deer and a couple does.

Joshua and the others got their slings out – with thumb-sized stones for ammo.

Knowing I’d be useless for this part, I found my larger knife – and got my rope out. I’d ended up with a decent product that was about 25 feet long. I was pretty proud of it.

I watched – a little jealously – as the five of them employed their ranged-weapons at a signal from Joshua.

Two struck the buck, two struck the doe on the right, and one got the doe on the left.

The headshots stunned the beasts and then we raced forward to secure them (and slit their throats) before they shook off the stone’s effect and made their escape.

We ended up with the buck and the second doe – which I thought was fabulous. Joshua seemed pleased as well.

We tied their ankles together and carried them as we had the boars.

We were back at camp before the noon meal and Heather’s parents were called. Joshua’s came as well. His father clapped him on the shoulder.

Heather’s parents approved of the gifts and her dad greeted Joshua with the standard forearm grip and then clapped him on the shoulder as well.

Since we were done early, we scouted for firewood, took it to the summit, and then went for a swim in the lagoon.

I took the net along, for fun, and we caught a basketful of fish – which we cleaned – and then delivered to the cooks as we headed for the evening meal.

They put the fish in the smoke-shack to dry & cure.

After the meal – where I got a hug & kiss from my sister-lover – our group of hunters headed back to our camp.

I was asleep before dusk even fell.

When Joshua woke me for our watch, we found the first shift pair asleep at the fire – so we left them where they were.

We woke the last shift, when it was time, and they grinned at the sight of their unconscious buddies.

I wondered if the two would wake up with Sharpie drawings on their faces.

I didn’t think about that too long before I was asleep myself.

Day 15

The next morning, we got an early start on the new hut – as soon as the chief had shown us where to place it.

We eschewed the transplanting of the palm tree – so that helped move things along considerably.

By midday, we had the floor down and were starting on the roof.

Megan brought us food to the job-site. We drained our water-skins and she took them to wherever the well was, refilled them, and brought them back.

By mid-afternoon, we were done and headed off to the lagoon to get cleaned up.

The hunters joined the rest of the village at the evening meal.

Megan took food to the maids as they worked to get Heather ready for the ceremony after their visit to the lagoon.

Once the dinner things were cleared away, everybody started gathering for the wedding.

Heather’s parents sat to the left of the chief and the elders; Joshua’s parents sat on the right.

At a sign from Megan, the hunter-group stood between the elders and the council fire.

Joshua was at the center and I was at the periphery.

Megan led the maids to the fire. She took her place to the far left – mirroring my position – and the rest of the maids went to their spots.

Heather walked up and took Joshua’s hands. They turned and looked to the elders.

The chief and the elders stood. Next, the parents rose to their feet, and finally the rest of the camp.

The chief walked up to Joshua and Heather. He laid his hands on top of theirs, raised his eyes to the sky, and called out a blessing on their union.

He concluded with a spit-anointing – delivered by thumb-smear – to each of their foreheads.

At that point, he turned to the elders and the rest of the camp. He gave a “Whoop!” and then walked over and stood by me. The elders fell in beside him.

The men of the camp got in our line; the women got in line with Heather’s maids.

Much like the welcome ceremony that Megan & I had received when we joined the community, each male greeted Joshua with the arm-clasp and each female greeted Heather with a hug.

The hunters and maids went first – then – on the male side, the elders – then the parents – then the rest of the village – including the kids – sons with their fathers – and daughters with their mothers.

Dusk was approaching by the time everyone had congratulated the newlyweds.

Joshua took Heather’s hand and they headed off for their new home.

I made soft slow love to my sibling-bride while she kissed the life out of me and ran her fingernails up and down my back & ass.

When we were both satisfied, I pulled her on top of me and we talked about the last two days.

Megan told me that one of the things that had been delivered to the new hut was a small pot of the sexy-juice.

She told me that Heather had drank a couple tumblers-worth of the stuff as they were getting her dressed.

Heather had been even more beautiful than normal. I’m not a big kohl fan but the light makeup and the flowers had accented her natural beauty well.

Without her even voicing the words, I knew that Megan was imagining what the ceremony would have been like if we had been the happy couple.

Since the village had built us a hut, it was obvious that they already thought we were married. That was fine with me but I knew Megan wanted to make it official.

This people seemed to enjoy celebrating these milestones. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to convince the chief to let us have a “local” wedding.

I didn’t say anything to my sister but – the way she was staring off into space – I was pretty sure the same thoughts were running through her head.

Day 16

The next morning, when the chief wasn’t busy, I asked him about it. He was not opposed to the idea but thought we could short-circuit things a bit – since Megan didn’t have parents that required a bride-price and we already had the hut.

That would also avoid the loss of a half-dozen workers for two days.

I was sure that would be acceptable to Megan – so we boiled things down to just the ceremony.

The chief agreed to have Heather – after she and Joshua were back in the work-rotation – do Megan’s makeup and flowers. Megan would just wear something she already had.

Joshua must have told somebody about my failure on our hunting trip – because I was back at the sling-range for the morning.

The range-master intimated that I’d be there that afternoon as well if I couldn’t show a basic proficiency by the time lunch rolled around.

At midday, he still wasn’t happy – but he told me I didn’t have to return after the meal.

When Megan brought our food, I told her about my conversation with the chief. She was ecstatic.

Heather & Joshua would be back tomorrow and we could talk to them – and the chief – to figure out which day we were going to do this.

I spent the afternoon checking some snares with one of the groups that Joshua had taken to retrieve the lifeboat.

We ended up with a handful of rabbit-sized rodents and a few lizards.

I really didn’t want to know which of these had been in the stews we’d been eating off & on.

As it turned out, the rodents were used in a pit-trap that had snared a 7-foot crocodile.

I volunteered to drop into the pit and kill the thing with my mattock.

It didn’t have a lot of room to move so I thought I’d be pretty safe.

It took longer than I expected – and I got clawed on one ankle – but I finally got a clean shot and finished the job.

Ropes were thrown down and I secured the reptile to be pulled up – and then jumped up to grab a hand from one of the fellows.

Once I was out of the pit, the palm-leaf cover was replaced and the rodent carcasses were added as bait.