Callum Drift's Arc

Chapter 3 of 6

Callum pushed through the trees for two days. He found broken branches and old debris, but no people. Hunger gnawed at him. He climbed a slope where tall coconut trees leaned against the sky. Then, past the fronds, a red light burst overhead. A flare. It hung bright, then faded. He ran toward it. Brush tore at his arms. He crested a ridge and stopped short. Two of his crewmates crouched below by a pile of salvaged wood. Harper Reid knelt with a worn backpack open in front of her. She had short brown hair and quick hands. A flare gun rested on the pack straps beside an axe and a compass. She was checking the axe blade against her thumb, all business, when she saw him. "Callum." She said his name flat, like she'd expected him to turn up eventually. Then her mouth cracked into a grin. "Took you long enough." Beside her stood Marian Vale. Blonde hair tied up with a strip of vine. She dropped the plank she was holding and crossed the gap in three steps. She threw her arms around him. "We saw the smoke from your fire two days back," Marian said. "We fired the flare hoping someone would come." "I came," Callum said. His voice caught. "You two. Only you two?" Harper stood and slung the pack onto her shoulder. "Just us. We washed up together. Been gathering what we could." She patted the axe. "This has cut half the wood you see. The compass kept us from walking in circles." Callum looked at the pile of debris, the tools, the flare gun. Everything they needed to build and signal. He felt the weight lift from his chest. "Rowan's alive," he said. "His leg is bad. I built him a shelter on the beach. There's food and fire." Marian's face changed. "Rowan. He made it." "He made it. But he can't walk. And three others are still out there." Harper shouldered past a fern and looked at the sky where the flare had died. "Then we don't waste time here." She handed Callum the axe. "You carry this. Marian takes the pack. We move before dark." They loaded the salvaged wood into their arms. Callum led them down the slope, back the way he'd come. Marian talked as they walked, naming the crewmates still missing, counting them off. Three names. Three people scattered somewhere on the island. By nightfall they reached the beach. The shelter stood crooked against the tide line. Rowan called out from inside when he heard their steps. "Who's that? Who's with you?" Callum ducked through the low door. "Two of us home," he said. "Harper and Marian." Rowan laughed, then coughed. Marian knelt by his swollen leg and hissed at the sight of it. "This needs cleaning," she said. "And soon." Callum set the axe down by the fire. Four of them now. But the compass in the pack pointed at everything he hadn't found yet.