The Craving - Marooned

11. Rise Above Our Lowly Selves

I left the others to go down to the shore for a good wash. 

The mere act of cleaning myself calmed my stomach a bit, and maybe Pamela had gone that way, too. I didn't find her there, though. 

After rinsing my hands and face, I looked out onto the open sea. The water lay still this morning, dark blue at my feet but reflecting the golden dawn towards the horizon. 

Endless.

And it didn't give a shit about our plight.

I turned my back on it and headed towards the ravine that would take me to the campsite. Maybe Pamela had gone off exploring the island. She might have returned to the others now.

As I scaled a brownish slab of stone, a sprinkling of pebbles rolled down the slope to my left.

I froze.

"Pamela?"

The slope was mostly scree and rocks, with a few plants clinging to the crevices.

More pebbles, a few yards ahead of me. Something moved up there, furry gray, the size of a guinea pig. It disappeared in a crack.

A mouse or a rat. Maybe.

My stomach cramped again.

When I returned to the others, our co-pilot was still gone. We searched the shrubs around the campsite once more, shouting her name and shooing up the birds.

But there was no reply.

I found the others sitting around Chris Pond—without Pamela. 

I joined them, sitting next to Farid. "Any sign of her?"

He shook his head. "No. And you shouldn't walk off on your own."

I shrugged. This island was too small for predators, and I was careful. Pamela was probably just exploring. Hopefully.

"I'm worried for her," Nita said. Her face was pale, from sickness or worry. "No one should be alone after..." She gestured at the sea. "After what we've been through."

"Right." Yves nodded. He didn't look much better.

"My..." She gulped. "I went back home to India because my nani died, my grandmother. We... were very close, but I wasn't there for her on the day she went. I was on the other side of the world."

"I'm sorry to—" Yves began.

Nita held up her hand. "It's okay. When I went to the United States, I knew this might happen, and she knew, too. She was over ninety years old. And we did have a proper goodbye when I left. And she died with family around her. Still..."

"But Pamela hasn't died," Chris said. "She's probably just exploring the island." He made an irritated face as he gestured towards the hills.

"That wouldn't be like her," I said, irritated by the lack of empathy in his voice. "She wouldn't walk off just like that. She'd have told someone."

No one commented on this.

Maybe she really had walked off, sick of our petty quarreling. Then the stomach cramps had hit her hard, and she was now suffering somewhere, unable to return. We couldn't just let this rest. My stomach might give me trouble, but I didn't want to abandon Pamela out there.

"We need a search party," I said. "I'll go looking for her. Is anyone coming along?"

"I am sorry, Megan," Yves said, "I feel too bad in my stomach."

Nita, at his side, shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Chris snorted. "Let's wait for her a little longer. If she doesn't turn up before noon, there's still time to set up a search. It's not as if she can run far."