Adrift by Tanya Guerrero

Author:Tanya Guerrero
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

THIRTY-TWO

Coral

I couldn’t quite figure out whether I should be happy or afraid at the possibility of human life on this island. What if they were hostile? What if they decided to hurt me instead of help me? When I reached the bottom of the crudely built stairway, my feet landed on sand.

Whooooooshhh … There it was. The sea and a beach, one I’d never seen before. For a second, I lost sight of Bambi. I panicked. “Bambi! Bambi!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

I slapped my hand over my mouth. Crap. What if someone heard me?

I stumbled back, suddenly unsure of what could be ahead of me. But then I heard Bambi’s barks through a maze of trees. She sounded normal. Not alarmed or anything. I followed the sound until I came upon a large clearing surrounded by several thatched structures. It felt the way it had in Montana with Mom and Dad, driving through the desolate old West towns, not the tourist traps filled with souvenir shops and cheesy saloons, but the ones that were truly dead—layers of dust-covered structures with not a footprint in sight.

This place was dead. I could feel it. But unlike the old western towns, I could somehow tell this island village hadn’t been abandoned that long ago. I could sense a presence. There were still gaps in the slightly overgrown plants that had been walked through. There were spots in the dry and brittle thatching that were relatively clear of dust and cobwebs. There were pieces of wood that hadn’t yet rotted and crumbled.

Bambi leaped out of a hut, jumping on me and licking my fingers with her sandpapery tongue. “Here you are,” I said, rubbing her furry head and neck.

I scanned my surroundings more carefully. Could this have been Bambi’s home? She certainly seemed comfortable and at ease.

As we strolled through the ghost of a village, Bambi barked and ran circles around me as if she was telling me an animated story. Even from the outside, I could see signs of what life used to be like. Old fishing nets hung from a nearby tree branch. Woven baskets were piled on top of one another, slowly disintegrating. There was even a wooden canoe that had seen better days, its hull split and cracked, rendering it useless. Maybe a storm had damaged it? I stared at it and gritted my teeth, pondering the what-ifs.

What if I could fix it?

What if I could use it to get off the island?

What if? What if? What if?

Sigh. I approached one of the huts, pausing in the open doorway. A section of the thatched ceiling was gone, inviting the light to stream in. I couldn’t quite tell how it had been damaged. But upon closer inspection, it seemed as if a strong wind had blown it away. Yup. A storm. Inside, the floor was made of bamboo cut lengthwise so that it lay flat in elongated slats, creaking and groaning with every step. The walls were woven out of a similar material as the roofing, framed with thick pieces of bamboo.

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