Crash

4: Fish jerky

Ugh, my back is sore, I thought grumpily.

I rolled over in my bed, trying to find a comfy spot. Wait. I sat up. This wasn't my bed.

Oh yeah....

I sighed heavily and poked my head out of the tarp door. It was early morning and I hated getting up early.

Why wasn't I freaking out? Crying? Or slowly dying right now? I had no clue. My mind and body felt numb to the trauma I had gone through. I think it's called shock?

I restarted my fire from the embers to beat the chill, rolled up my sleeping bag and crunched on a granola bar for breakfast. 

"Okay, keep calm. Dad is bound to know that our plane never landed and will send for me. Surely the planes have a tracking device...that hopefully wasn't destroyed," I mumbled absentmindedly .

What to do, what to do, I wondered, bored and anxious.

For the hell of it, I collected more grubs and went to the creek to try to catch more fish. My granola bars were going to run out soon, which I knew.

A few minutes later, I had some trout and a little skinny looking thing with bright colors. Apparently, they like to get up early to eat.

And so do the bugs, I thought, angrily swatting the biting insects away.

I filleted the fish, squished them flat, and hung them on sticks to dry them out in the sun. Indian style. I learned the trick when we went to Colorado to see some deer. I guess it's a good way to preserve fish, although I had no salt but eh.

Next was firewood. I chopped and chopped with my dinky little axe. I loaded the wood into the back of my little cave to keep it dry.

"Good, I'm making a routine," I said to nothing but fucking rocks and dirt. It sounds pretty sad to be talking to myself but at least it's a voice. I was my own therapist. 

I boiled water to put in my canteen, washed my tattered clothes in the creek, took a freezing dunk to wash, re-bandaged my wounds, and dug a whole bunch of grubs up to stock near my cave.

Looking around, I realized this place wasn't as ideal as I thought it was. The only food supply here was fish, and I can't live off fish. No matter, I won't be here for long.

Noon came and went. I grilled more fish for lunch. Then I tried out my fish jerky for dinner from yesterday. There wasn't even grass worth eating with my fish, which were bland and sucky.

I ended up covering up any exposed skin in mud to keep away from the hungry bugs.

I hated the climate changes here. Cool in the morning, hot as satans armpit in midday, then freezing at night. Dark came again, and after my uneventful day, I welcomed it.

I took my place near the fire with my weapons, telling myself that my dad would come to get me at anytime now. 

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-David (Lyra's dad)

"What?!?! What do you mean they didn't land!?!" I bellowed into my phone, not caring about the looks my crew gave me.

"There was a freak storm they must've gone right through. I don't know why Marcus never turned around."

"Well where are they?!? WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?!" I screamed frantically.

"S-sir we don't know..... Marcus's planes signal went down thirty minutes after he left Devenside Airport."

"Where could they be in thirty minutes after take off?" I growled, fighting to stay calm.