ice


    The next morning the rain continued. My shelter was no longer keeping me and my precious fire dry. I had pulled pieces from it through the night to keep the fire burning; now there were holes where the rain poured through. On the upside, my clothes were dry. On the downside, the rain never slowed, so one step outside and the clothes would be soaked again. An easy solution is to make a raincoat. How hard could it be?


    I spent the early morning light attempting to weave the palm fronds into a raincoat. It was a waste of time. I was, however, able to weave a wide hat out of the fibers. The shape reminded me of an upside-down ramen bowl.


    I stripped to my boxers and left the warm cloths inside the shelter. I tried on the silly hat and climbed out of my cozy nest, the hat protecting me better than expected.


    The light rain never stopped and never slowed. And the sun stayed a dull disk of light through the clouds. The air was still cold enough to see my breath, but as long as I could keep the fire burning, I would survive.


    I gathered every scrap of firewood small enough to burn. It didn''t take long to make a pile hip-high of fuel.


    My throat grew dry with the exertion even as the rain chilled me to the bone. In a dip in the ground there was a puddle of slightly muddy water. I looked at it longingly but knew better. I looked at the fern fronds that lined the edge of the forest and went to them; the leaves gathered rain into a trickle that I could collect in my hand. I spent several minutes drinking the cold, clean water.


    It was time to find something to appease my stomach; along the tree line I saw a bunch of red bananas high up in a tree. I hugged it and attempted to shimmy way, way up. My ribs screamed, and my arms felt weak. I made it 2 feet off the ground before falling on my ass.


    Standing up and trying to get my self-respect back, I looked up at the food almost in reach. It occurred to me I don''t have to climb up if I can get the fruit to come down. I threw rocks at it; it took more tries than I would care to admit, and I ruined several of the small bananas, but the bunch fell to the ground with a thud. My reward was rock-hard, seed-filled bananas. I dragged them back to the shelter.


    As I approached the fire, my heart raced; my fire was a tiny flickering flame. With a panic, I put several large chunks around the little flame and threw small dry branches into the middle until, with a crackle, it rekindled into a healthy fire that danced between the logs. The closest thing to a companion I had, and I almost let it die. Careless.


    I changed into my clothes and hung my underwear to dry. The hard bananas were roasted on the coals. The smell of the baked banana filled my mind and drove me wild. I ate them with delight.


    I proceeded to vomit them up for the next half hour. I lay curled around the fire, belly once again empty. But some of it had been digested, and I felt the rush of energy as I laid my head down for a moment and fell asleep.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    You can skip this part. You don''t have to carry it with you. But if you can endure it, you will have a greater understanding of how the events of that day changed me forever. I warn you, I wish I could erase the rest of the day from my mind. It was horrific; it was agony, and I am not sure how much of it was real.


    I slept the rest of the afternoon fitfully, waking every hour to add more wood to the fire. The air grew colder and colder. I built the fire higher and higher. The last time I slept, I dreamed of being wrapped in a warm blanket. The gentle waves crashing on the bow of the express delivery.


    Then the blanket got heavier. It felt like someone was sitting on me and I was getting attacked by hornets; my entire arm felt like it was on fire. I thrashed in my sleep, screaming. I woke to find I was in fact on fire. The synthetic fibers of my long-sleeve shirt had melted and then caught on fire, burning into my skin.


    I struggled; I thrashed to get free. I threw sand on my arm trying to put it out, but the synthetic clothing was still burning, and with it my skin had started burning. A smell I wish I could forget.


    I later decided My underwear near the fire had dried and then burned, the heat catching the support log on fire, and then once the fire had weakened the fallen log, it cracked and fell down, pinning me to the ground.


    The sky danced with green auroras that night; it was beautiful. You could see it on the horizon, but overhead it was still a solid rain cloud. Under other circumstances, I would have been blown away. I am avoiding it again; it was pinned, I was on fire, and I was afraid I would die. I struggled to get free; I kicked at the roof of the shelter, letting the rain in to try to put the fire out.


    My companion was now my betrayer; I cursed my carelessness. The sand helped, but it didn''t stop it. I pushed with every ounce of strength I had on the log, but it was too heavy for me to move directly. I would need to be smart. Not easy when you''re on fire.


    I scrabbled at the ground until I was able to dig a hole under my arm enough that I was able to yank myself free. I covered my arm with the life jacket and smothered the fire, but the damage was done. I couldn''t move any part of the arm. The pain was overwhelming.


    I stood dizzy and confused as my shelter burned up, trying to come up with a plan, a way forward. But every drop of rain was agony; the rain was cold enough now that it was turning to ice. My clothes were quickly getting wet, and my hat was ruined in the attempt to get free.


    I was desperate for somewhere to hide away until I could form a plan. I knew I had no chance of building a shelter; my arm was now useless, and the pain was growing worse. I walked, arm hanging limp along the tree line, looking for any sign of civilization, the green glow of the auroras lighting the world. I was delirious; I must have been looking for a path up the mountain. At the time, it made sense that if I could find a settlement or lights in a house or even just a cave to rest in, there was a slim chance I could survive.


    I figured out later I staggered 1500 paces before I found a stream that roared out of the jungle across the little rocky ledge and into the ocean below.


    I soaked my arm in the water; the stinging brought me back to rationality for just long enough to come up with the monumentally insane idea to follow it towards the interior of the island. I climbed along the slick rocks next to the stream. It''s treacherous with two arms; with one, I was asking to be launched into the ocean to meet the same fate as my ship. The rocks were slimy with lichen. The stream was freezing. The sounds of the endless rain were now overshadowed by the sound of rushing water.


    I pressed on through the pain and the exhaustion. At the top of the hill, I found a pile of rocks with water bubbling out of them. But the stream did not continue; instead, a rock wall blocked my path from going further up the mountain. I screamed and yelled out to the forest. This was a dead end. It would be my dead end. Or so I thought.