Day 35 - Only Laugh - Chapter 35(1586 words)

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ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 35 

Life on the island was taking it's toll on his body, he had lost weight and despite the placid nature of the environment, managed to injure himself more than once quite badly. Beneath the idyllic veneer of paradise there was danger and sharp edges everywhere. Quite literally he found out when fishing for small reef life he cut himself on the coral by not watching where he was putting his feet and slicing the soft skin there, bleeding into the water for a while before realising how bad it was by the redness of the water. A makeshift bandage and a swim to shore later and he soon understood how much more care he would need to take. Sharks swarmed through the area where he had just been swimming minutes earlier, the fins protruding ominously from the water, circling about trying to find the prey they had barely missed. At one point he lost count of how many there were poking about in the same area of reef. He never swam in that area again, moved on to a new fishing ground, further round the coast, constantly on the look out now.

The weather was quite changeable and mercurial at times, the wind could pick up and batter the island in short order and he started to get a feel for the islands moods, knowing when a tropical storm was on the way. The cave near the camp was a convenient location when planning a raid on the stores there, but most he used the map he was given to find shelter and elevated locations from which he could see and monitor the island. Fish and the occasional bird provided meat a few times a week and there were fruit trees that provided some daily sustenance, obviously planted in orderly fashion near the settlement some decades ago, now running wild but proving a good source of vitamins and energy. The camp garden was also good pickings at night and the treats from various packs and stores in the buildings would be raided in the dead of night when no one was watching. He was careful to never take too much in one go, never giving away his presence but undoubtedly causing friction between some bunkmates and volunteers who naturally accused the only other person in the room.

Even so he was getting thinner and more spry, wiry and lean from surviving in the wild. During a bad storm he would hole up in a cave in the hills near the caldera where he most often lit his fire in some cover so the smoke trails were obscured or covered entirely when cooking those infrequent times, or during particularly bad weather he use fire to heat his shelter under rocks and stones. The volcanic activity made for an interesting island environment, heating some springs and setting off underwater eruptions he could view from the central high ground where he spent most of his time. Tony would watch the boats from the New Zealand Navy and the science vessels gather at safe distances and take samples, collect pumice floating in the water after the event had finished and the seas had settled again.

The visitors came in waves and every so often the Navy vessel would come and moor nearby, sending in supplies and fresh visitors, most of them came by boat and flights to the tiny airstrip were few and far between. He had lost count of how long he had been on the island, it had been months if not over a year as he felt the tropical seasons change and he settled into a firm routine in synergy with nature itself. The Navy vessel came with a helicopter they would use to survey the harder to reach parts of the interior from the air and whenever the frigate Canterbury was moored at the island he would ensure that cover was always within reach and would not light fires or raid too often.

However when they had departed or took an extended trip to sea, they always left at an early hour and made preparation in a predictable manner, that would be his cue to head to the conservation settlement and go for easy pickings. The ship was handy in some ways, they would concentrate the volunteers and scientists in one area, particularly on the last nights and that would free up the buildings for scavenging and quick reconnaissance from his nearby second hideaway.

A few weeks after the initial survivors were taken away by plane some of the cargo hold of the plane was dislodged by a volcanic event and the bags washed to the shore in the south coast, Tony waded and swam through the bags looking for anything of interest, finding some alcohol was a treat and some spare clothes he could use to replace or enhance the options he had. He took the bags to his hilltop retreat, and buried them deep in the cave hoping that no expedition would ever come this far to see evidence of the unwanted and unexpected living and stealing from among them, the mute bedraggled caveman who lived in the hills of the island volcano. If he had not been living the story Tony would have found the whole idea too incredible to take.

A long time after the crash and with plenty of time under his belt Tony started talking to himself again. To his surprise with some pain and shock he swore under his breath and the noise that came out echoed momentarily in the cave, giving him the feedback he did not normally get. So long without hearing his own voice it was a thunderclap of a revelation that he could make a rasping yet recognisable word from his atrophied throat. He practised and exercised this new found return and over a few months managed to be able to string most words together with some semblance of sense and order. His cadence and pronunciation were still odd, sounding like a stroke victim or a mentally underdeveloped child at times, but a huge leap forward for him in his own sense of self that he could think a word, say a word and hear that same word.

Living on the island had been good for him, he had been here well over a year now and had managed to be at some regular peace with himself and his place in the world. His voice was raspy and quiet, tongue-tied and twisted all about but still it was him. He would sit at his cave and talk over the ideas in his head, ones he kept inside so deep over the years but now tumbled out and made it to the open. He had that time to reflect and to order his view of the world.

He felt he could live here forever, a one man island paradise provided he stuck to some simple rules and avoided other people. A solitary existence, but a necessarily solitary existence. He had food, he had fresh air and the balance of nature to keep him entertained and his life in check, where he could eventually with some care cause no harm to himself or others. He was at peace.

Nature was not at balance with him though and threw everything she had in her weather arsenal at once the next winter and it tested his resolve, but like all the other disasters he had faced up until now he faced it down and saw it out the other side, not unhurt or unscathed but alive and moving forwards. When the weather cleared and the sun shone through the dissipating clouds he crawled out of the cave, where the wind howled so loud and the rain fell so hard that even a covered fire would not light there, he watched a pod of humpback whales celebrating the end of the storm from his vantage point. It was a wonderful moment and in that space and time he was happy and content with his ability to carry on, for the rest of his life there.

It was not long after that they found Tony, shivering with a fever from infected wounds sustained in the storm and curled up in the cave near the camp, wrapped in a blanket and in serious condition, his raiding in a fevered state had disturbed the inhabitants and they quickly realised that there was someone else on the island with them. He was in a terrible state and an emergency call went out to the Navy frigate who were on supply run to the islands and due to arrive the next day or two.

For the second time an air plane flew into the tiny airstrip to pick up a survivor of the plane crash and once again the worlds eyes turned to Tony and put him in the spotlight, a miracle man defying death and challenging fate and God and whatever else the media could label him with.

The last thing he remembered was curling up in the blanket with a stolen bar of chocolate and bedding down in the cave, hoping the energy from the carbohydrate rich bar would see him right and he'd be better in the morning.

When he woke up a few days later from a fevered dream the first thing he saw was a face he had not expected to see ever again. Aida started crying when he said, albeit not very clearly or in easily understood tones, “Hello.”