Living Legends

7) Another Day on the Island

ONE MONTH AGO 

Jack’s arms ached as he trudged out of the water, his back slicked with saltwater and his limbs exhausted from swimming against the current.  He collapsed in the cool sand and let the warm sunrays hit his bare skin.  It felt heavenly.

            He stared up at the leafy palm fronds fluttering above him.  Suddenly, his nose twitched when an insect landed directly between his eyes.  Jack frowned and brushed it off, going cross-eyed for a few seconds and laughing in spite of himself.  His breath caught when another jumble of words and images flashed before him.  There was the light, that odd combination of symbols and random letters.  It vanished just as quickly as it had arrived.

            Jack blinked a few times and willed his breathing to return to normal.  He fought to remember any of the letters or images, but nothing came to mind.  It was like the incident had never occurred.  Strange…

            After relaxing in the sun for a while, Jack found himself nodding off, and he slowly sat up until his equilibrium came back to normal.  He watched the ocean in silent fascination for a few minutes, with its crashing waves the only sound.  He pictured a boat, a small dot on the horizon, coming closer and closer.  He imagined people—people other than Clyde’s men—finding Jack on shore and rescuing him.  He wondered what he would do if he ever returned to civilization.  Go back to wandering the streets of Florida? Go back to hunting for scraps of food and picking up odd jobs here and there?

            Jack frowned and quickly shot to his feet.  He narrowed his eyes at the ocean.  Turning his back on the vast blue sea, he made a beeline for the edge of the foliage, only stopping when he reached a particularly shady spot to do his exercises.  He hated the ocean.  He hated it with a passion.  Yet for some reason he never had much luck staying away from it.

            Jack laughed wryly and began his push-ups.  He set his jaw as his arms automatically groaned underneath the weight of his body.  He had never been small, necessarily, but more along the lines of solid.  Only after a few years on the streets and plenty of time on a Godforsaken island did he feel the corded muscles rippling across his back.  He had never felt the need to be physically fit, but now it gave him something to do—something to accomplish.  Plus, he worked up an appetite for the bland meals he had quickly grown to despise.  Exercise was good for some things, at least.

            Twenty minutes later, after multiple reps of multiple exercises, Jack did a few light stretches to loosen up.  The sun was going to set in five hours, he knew, and he still had fruit to pick.

            Opting to take the longer route to the fruit trees, Jack crossed over the beach and steeled himself against the sizzling sun.  His footsteps sank in the wavy sand.  He quickened his pace for the fruit grove.