Stranded

Four

Chapter 4: The Loaded Question

Adora held the pistol as though it might weaken, her trembling fingers betraying her unease. “Why would someone bring a gun on a cruise ship?” she asked, her voice a strained whisper.

Eric crouched beside her, his eyes locked on the weapon. He has been thinking the same thing. The sunlight glinted off the black metal, making it seem more dangerous than it already was. “Could be for protection,” he mused, his tone casual but measured. “Or maybe they weren’t here for a vacation.”

Adora shot him a wary glance. “What are you saying?”

Eric shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Could’ve belonged to a bodyguard. Or someone… worse.”

“Worse?” The word barely escaped her lips, her grip tightening on the weapon.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice. “A smuggler. A hitman. Mafia.”

Her eyes widened in alarm, and she quickly placed the gun down on the sand, almost recoiling from it. “This is insane. What do we even do with this?”

Eric picked it up with a care that belied his confidence, awkwardly checking the chamber and magazine. His inexperience was evident, but the weapon's weight in his hands felt strangely reassuring. It might be useful for them, he thought. “It’s loaded,” he said, tilting it to show her the six bullets. “We keep it.”

“Keep it?” Her voice rose sharply. “Eric, we’re stuck on a deserted island, not in a spy thriller!”

“For now,” he replied, tucking the gun into his waistband with deliberate calm. “But last night proved we don’t know what’s out there. This could save our lives.”

Adora’s face was a tumult of emotions—anger, fear, disbelief—but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she stood and paced along the shoreline, muttering under her breath as if venting to the waves.

The discovery of the gun hung over them like a storm cloud, overshadowing any relief they’d felt from finding supplies earlier. The faint hope sparked by the trail mix and spare clothing had been snuffed out, replaced by a weighty unease.

As the day stretched on, they worked to build a makeshift shelter, using driftwood and palm fronds from the beach. Though the task required cooperation, their conversation was limited to clipped instructions and terse acknowledgements. The tension from the gun still lay between them. By late afternoon, the shelter stood—a small but functional lean-to that offered some protection. It was enough to house both of them for a couple of days, though Eric wasn't certain it could resist certain weather conditions.

Eric sat beneath it, turning the gun over in his hands. His movements were careful, but Adora watched him as if he were playing with a venomous snake.

“You seem a little too comfortable with that thing,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

“I’m not,” he admitted, glancing at her. “But I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “That kind of thinking gets people killed.”

Eric met her gaze, his expression serious. “Adora, I get that this freaks you out. It freaks me out too, more than I'd like to admit. But we don’t know what we’re dealing with. There could be animals. Or worse, people. And not everyone out here is going to play nice.”

Her jaw tightened, and she turned away, staring at the horizon where the sun was beginning its slow descent. “This isn’t the kind of danger I signed up for,” she muttered.

Neither did I, Eric thought, but he kept the words to himself.

As night fell, the jungle awoke. The distant howl they’d heard the previous night returned, louder this time, its eerie tone sending shivers up their spines. The rustling of leaves and sharp cries of unseen creatures added to the unsettling symphony. Eric kept the gun within arm’s reach, his eyes scanning the shadows beyond the flickering firelight.

Adora sat across from him, her knees drawn to her chest. “Do you think someone’s out there?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “But we need to be ready for anything.”

She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her. “I just want to go home.”

Eric didn’t answer. The ache in her voice mirrored his feelings, but the harsh reality of their situation left no room for platitudes. What he would do to not be stuck on the island, to be back home, working on different codes and eating junk.

The snap of a branch nearby shattered the fragile quiet, and both of them froze. The sound was close—too close. Adora’s eyes went wide, and Eric instinctively reached for the gun, his heart pounding.

“What was that?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, rising slowly to his feet. “Stay here while I go check it out.”

“Are you insane?” she hissed, grabbing his arm. “You can’t just go out there!”

“Stay by the fire,” he said firmly, gently prying her fingers from his sleeve. “It’ll keep you safe.”

Adora glared at him but didn’t argue. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped a makeshift spear they’d fashioned from a long stick earlier that day.

Eric stepped away from the shelter, the gun heavy in his hand. The fire’s glow faded as he moved toward the jungle, swallowed by the oppressive darkness. Each step was deliberate, his senses on high alert. The rustling grew louder, punctuated by brief silences that only heightened his anxiety.

Sweat filled his palms as he raised the gun, his finger hovering near the trigger. The shadows seemed to pulse and shift, his imagination conjuring threats that might not exist. What was it? A bear? A lion? A creature that didn't have a name? Something venomous that'd kill them without sparing a glance?

Then, without warning, something burst from the underbrush.

He stumbled back, his breath catching in his throat. A pair of glowing eyes stared at him from the darkness, unblinking and unnervingly steady.