Locked (8 page)

This time I wake up in his arms. We fell asleep and now it's nearly evening. His eyes are closed, but when I kiss his neck I feel his arms tighten reflexively around me.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

We kiss lazily for a few minutes. His hands move up and down my arms. He kisses my nose. Then right behind my ear.

“That tickles,” I say, laughing.

“Noted.”

My stomach starts to growl, and I realize I have not eaten a single thing today. I left early to meet with the chief and since then have had only water.

“Hungry?” Noah asks.

“Starving,” I say.

“I'll be back,” he says. He kisses me and then stands up. I try to pull him back down. “I don't want you to go,” I say. I wrap my arms around his torso and bring his face down to mine. “Sustenance,” he says, “is key.” His lips meet my shoulder and then travel back up my neck. I sigh. Food seems overrated. “I'll be back.”

He pulls on clothes and I watch him go. I lie back. It's weird. I know I shouldn't be this happy. I know I should want to get back home, that I should be looking for a way, but I can't help it. I feel content. It's not just right for him; it's right for me, too. Because my life ended the instant we crashed, and my new one, this one, began that same moment. My life with Noah. Maybe he's not the only one who belongs here. Maybe I do, too.

I slip on some clothes and join him in the kitchen. He's baking fish, and he hands me a ceramic plate of cut fruit. I devour it all, and he gives me more. I have a flare of pride that Noah's presence has created a life that flourishes here.

“Better?” he says when I've finished. He takes the empty plate out of my hands and wraps his arm around my waist. He draws me close to him and kisses me once. He sets the plate down but doesn't let go of me, and with his other hand he tucks some hair behind my ear. “I love you,” he says. “Have I said that yet?”

“In so many words,” I say. My chest feels light, like it's rising. Like it might just float up without me.

“Well, I do,” he says. “In case it isn't obvious, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whisper.

I've said “I love you” before to Ed. But when Noah kisses me, I know I've never felt anything close to this. I've never meant it before, not like this.

Noah takes my face in his hands. His eyes look into mine, and there is an intensity I haven't seen there before. If I didn't know better, I'd call it something close to desperation. “I want you to know that, okay?” he says. “Whatever happens, I have always loved you and I will always love you.”

I smile. “Okay,” I whisper. “I know.” I kiss his temples. The bridge of his nose. “But nothing is going to happen.”

For a moment something passes over his face, but it's gone before I can recognize what it is. And then we're kissing again and I'm so lost in him—his warmth, the way it feels to be close to him—that I don't think to question it. I don't think to hit pause on that moment and study it. Turn it over.

All I think about is now.

We eat more and then get back into bed. I don't think I will ever get sick of touching him. The endless exploration of sensation—there there there. The way he seems to anticipate what I need before I know it myself. It's like he's living inside me. Like we're sharing one ecstatic, electrified body. It feels like every part—arms, legs, knees, lips—was made for us and us alone. No one has ever used them like this. No one has ever felt what we do. No two people have ever fit together so perfectly. He whispers my name over and over, and I think I've never heard anything more beautiful. My name on his lips in sweet, delicious surrender.

I fall asleep in Noah's arms. And all through the night, I feel them around me—strong, protective. It feels like nothing could pull me out of them. Not the morning. Not hunger. Not thirst. Not even a natural disaster.

And I'm right. Ultimately, it's none of those things. It's a helicopter.

I hear it before I open my eyes. The spiral of air—like a hurricane. The grating screech of an engine. Foreign sounds. Machine sounds. Sounds of metal and steel and technology. Sounds that don't belong.

At first I think it's part of a dream, but then my eyes are open, and Noah is getting out of bed, and—

“They're here,” I say. “Noah, it's them.” My instinct is for joy, and relief. The rescue team is here. It's over. They're coming to bring us home. “Noah, do you hear me?”

But he doesn't turn around, and I realize, suddenly, what has happened. I go cold.

“You did this,” I say. I scramble forward. “Why?”

“I told you I would get you off this island,” he says.

I think about the chief yesterday. About what he said. “It is not my role.” He didn't find out Ed and Maggie were alive. Noah did. Noah is the only one who could. Noah. The Healer.

“You'll come,” I say. I get out of bed; I put on a dress. My thoughts are spinning too fast. I can't separate them out. Rescue. Mainland. Ed. Maggie.

Noah's walking out of the room, and I run over to him. I throw my weight against him. “Noah,” I say. “You'll come. You have to.”

I tug him around so he's facing me, and when I do my heart sinks—because I know why they're here. I know what he's done.

“No,” I say. I shake my head. I start to cry.

“August,” he says. He puts his hands on my shoulders. He shakes me. “You need to listen to me. You can't stay here.”

“No,” I say. “That's not fair. You can't decide that for me. How could you? How could you say all those things to me yesterday? How could you tell me you love me? You knew—”

“Because this isn't the life you were meant for,” he says. “This isn't what I want for you.” He's practically screaming it. The helicopter is getting closer and closer. I hear the propeller now like it's inside my own head—chopping and dicing my thoughts. “I can't keep you here. I had to do this.”

“Do what?” I yell. I know, but I need to hear him say it. I need to hear that it's really final.

“I'm the Healer. I could unlock the island. Only me. Don't you see?” he says. “If I had that power, how could I not use it?” Noah wasn't at the stream yesterday morning, he was with the chief. He ascended to the role. It's done. Last night, together. That wasn't our beginning. That was our good-bye.

“But why can't you come with me?” I say, although I know, of course I do. I hear the chief's words in my head. I even understand. Duty. Noah has made a promise to his people. He's given them his word.

“They need me,” he says.

“I need you.”

And then I hear voices. Two men I don't recognize and Ed. I run to the kitchen. I look out on the patio, down at the beach. There he is. Ed. Hands cupped around his mouth. Screaming my name.

And then someone else gets out of the helicopter. Blond hair and lanky limbs but even from this far away I know her. I'd know her anywhere. My sister.

I close my eyes.

“See?” Noah says into my ear. “You can't stay. You have to be strong, August. I need you to do that for me.”

I turn to him and see that he's crying, too. The tears slide down his cheeks. I clear them with my fingers. I shake my head.

“I can't,” I say. “I can't leave you.”

“You have to.”

He puts his hands on my shoulders. “You need to go home.”

“Noah,” I say. And then he's kissing me. It's desperate and hungry. It makes my heart soar. It makes my lungs feel like they're going to explode in my chest. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in as far as I possibly can. If I hold him close enough, maybe I won't be able to leave. Maybe we'll just be stuck together.

But then he pulls back. He brings his lips to my forehead. “Go,” he says. “Please.” I see a flash of gold from his lips, and I know he's left a mark where he kissed me. I hope it stays there. A birthmark. A mark of this life. This time. Him.

I reach for him—try to grab something, anything, but he's turning away.

I hear Ed and Maggie. They're close now. I see my sister on the beach, frantic. I take a deep breath and turn toward the path. And then I run. I don't think. I just move. And I keep running until I reach them, until I feel my sister collapse into my arms.

“August. August,” they say. They repeat it like a chant.

Ed is crying. So is my sister. I hold her in my arms. I stroke her hair. “Everything is all right,” I say. “I'm okay. It's okay. It's going to be all right.”

The two men are from the coast guard, and they throw a blanket over our shoulders. Maggie's tucked into my side, and she doesn't let go. I kiss the top of her head. I squeeze her in tighter.

And then I look at Ed. His face—so familiar and yet different somehow. He's grown up in the time I've been on this island.

I don't think. I don't need to. I release Maggie, wrap the blanket firmly around her, and then I go to Ed. I put my hands on either side of his face, and I kiss him.

His arms wrap around me. My body folds to his familiar frame. Puzzle pieces, he used to call us.

And then he pulls back. He looks out, down the beach. His eyes find mine, and I know what he's asking, what he wants to know:
Where is Noah?

I know he won't leave without him. I know he'd stay on this island without us, Maggie and me. He'd send us home if he thought there was a chance Noah was here. That he was alive.

So I just shake my head. I lie. Because I don't know how to tell him the truth. I don't know how to explain that his best friend can't leave. That he sacrificed his life to save mine. Mine with them.

“No,” Ed mouths. He covers his face with his hands. I think he's going to fall to the ground, but instead he moves forward, quickly. He takes me in his arms, Maggie, too, and then he's hustling us onto the helicopter. He gets me in, then Maggie, and then he climbs up behind us.

The coast guard gets in the front, and within seconds we are in the air. Maggie is still pressed against me, and Ed has my hands in his. He's looking at me—his eyes wide, round. I think about everything that is soon to come—all the questions and conversations. All the lies.

I'm not crying anymore. My eyes are clear. I press my face against the window. I look down. I touch my fingertips to the glass, then to the cowrie shell at my throat. I imagine Noah down there watching us. I imagine him on the deck, hanging over the beach, looking up into the sky. I hope he hears me. I hope he knows.

Good-bye, I whisper, and when I do, the land disappears below me. It's just ocean now. Clear. Blue. Empty.

He's gone.

Parker Witter was born in Seattle, Washington, where she continues to live and work.
Locked
is her first novel.

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