Misplaced 2, part 5.

   Ruth was right.  A storm was on its' way and broke on the camp during the night.  It was the first time it had rained on the island since they arrived, and when Ruth was woken by the sound of rain thudding into the roof of the shelter the first thing she noticed was that it was suddenly much cooler.  She was grateful for that, although in England she would still have thought of it as warm.

   The second thing she noticed helped explain why she was cooler.  She was sleeping in a puddle.  She felt a drip land on her nose, and a second one landed on her arm.  The first shelter, the one she herself had helped to build, was leaking, and leaking badly too.  She was soaked. 

  That was bad enough.  But she was more worried about the wind.  When they had gone to bed a tiny breeze had been blowing.  It had picked up considerably during the night and now the shelter itself was wobbling dangerously.

  No one else seemed to be awake.  Ruth tried to find a drier spot, but it was difficult in the total darkness, and she didn't want to disturb the others.  She didn't go back to sleep, but wrapped herself in the drier parts of her cloak and listened to the noises of the storm, shivering a little.  She was close to the door and through it she could see the silhouettes of trees, darker against the dark sky, being thrashed too and fro in the wind.  She heard the creak of the trees and the crash of the waves.  This wind would have whipped up the sea into a frenzy, she thought.  It would be dangerous to be out on the beach tonight, but the sight- if there were any light to see by- would be magnificent.

  The noise of the storm appeared to be gradually increasing.  So did the amount of water dripping through the roof.  Ruth could feel the shelter being pulled from side to side by the wind, making the cracks in the roof widen.  Other people woke up, wet and miserable, and tried to crowd to the sides of the shelter where it was drier.  But even that temporary respite didn't last long.

   "It sounds like the whole shelter's beeing torn to pieces," Rachel said.  Ruth had to agree.  She made sure all her belongings were packed up, and suggested that the others- they were all awake now- do the same.  

   The storm still grew in intensity.  Ruth wondered if the people in the other shelter were ok.  The techies had built a much stronger and more stable structure, so probably they were.  This shelter had been built in a rush and designed more to keep out the sun than the rain.  Just my luck to be in the one which leaks, Ruth thought glumly.

   Suddenly a beam fell from the middle of the ceiling.  The shelter had pulled about so much by the wind that the lashings holding it together were working loose.  The rain came gushing in, and all the water which had collected on the flat roof cascaded down onto the already damp people below.  

   Ruth stood up, trying to untangle herself from the wood and metal sheeting.  "Is everyone all right?" she shouted.  She found her torch and flashed it around.  "Anyone hurt?"  Everyone had been sitting round the edges, so had escaped the worst of the crash.  But the shelter was now not even remotely waterproof, and there was every likelihood it would collapse further, and someone might be hurt.  They would have to try to get across to the other shelter.

   She looked round at the other girls, shadows amid the sopping mess, and bundled her cloak up out of the way of her feet.  "Come on, over to the others," she said, and led the way out into the storm.

   She was almost blown off her feet as soon as she was through the doorway.  She had thought that the forest and the rocks behind them would shelter the campsite, but there was still plenty of wind.  She stopped and looked round to see that the others were following, shining her torch so that they could see.  Rachel fell over, but the others helped her up and together they struggled across to the more solid shelter built by the techies. 

   Ruth was the last to enter.  By the light of her torch she could see that in here it was much more comfortable.  Perhaps it was just in a more sheltered site, but the noise of the wind was much less here, and the walls barely vibrated in the force of the gale.  There were one or two drips but it was mostly dry.

   The others were already explaining what had happened and there was a bustle of noise.  Ruth sat down where she could find a space, feeling rather dejected and shaken up.  It was crowded in the hut, and begining to get stuffy.  Ruth was glad of the warmth, for she was wet through.  She shivererd a little.  Patrick, who was sitting nearby, noticed.  He reached out to touch her hand. 

   "You're cold," he said, taking both her hands in his to try to warm them.

   "Well, I woke up in a puddle," she said.  "And then the roof fell in."  She tried to smile but a few tears escaped instead.  He put an arm round her as she cried.

   It was too crowded to lie down and sleep, so for the rest of the night they all sat, cramped, in the close little hut while the storm raged around them.  Although this shelter showed no sign of collapsing around them, as the night went on it began to leak more.  People stopped talking.  A sense of tired depression seemed to hang over the hut.  First they had been marrooned here, and there seemed to be no sign of any rescue; and now the weather had turned against them too.  They were helpless, and without much hope of a future.

The story continues...

Misplaced 2, part 4.

   Ruth heard a scream, and turned and ran towards the site where the plane had crashed.  She could hear a tearing, creaking noise but didn't have time to imagine what it might be.  She pushed her way through the trees and came in sight of the crashed plane just in time to see the tree fall.  It crushed in the side of the plane as though the metal were a cardboard box.  Several people were shouting, but Ruth could hear that someone was screaming, screaming from inside the remains of the plane.  

   She ran towards the wreckage.  Others were already there, pulling away the twisted metal.  She saw Tom emerge, limping and with dark red stains on his clothing.  But that was not the worst.  She could see something else amid the tangled wreckage.  They set to work quickly to move the weight of the tree trunk off the wreckage, but what Ruth had seen was no longer moving...  

   She sat up, startled.  "Sorry," whispered Jack, picking up the stick he had dropped on her as she slept and putting it on the fire.  She lay down again.  Another dream that had seemed to be real, but had not.  The events of the real accident had not been quite the same as what had happened in her dream.  No one had been hurt in reality, just shocked, although it had been a near miss.  The wreck of the plane hadn't looked quite the same, the tree had fallen differently, some people had been missing in the dream.  Yet- it had been close enough to life, there had been something about it that had made it seem so real...

   She snuggled down under her cloak and tried to go back to sleep.  But it was difficult.  She kept thinking about the two dreams.  Although she knew they were just dreams, they bothered her.  It was some time before she could sleep again.

   At home, none of them would have been early risers but here the sun woke them earlier than expected. Ruth noticed that Patrick had already disappeared by the time she awoke.  She wondered where he had got to this time, and tried not to feel annoyed that he had abandoned again them in favour of his own company again.  She had no right to feel annoyed, she knew, but somehow...she did.

   The others all scattered across the island once more, wanting to get as much as possible done before the hottest part of the day.  Ruth and Rachel went back to the rock pools for more crabs.  Last night's batch had been surprisingly tasty.  Ruth wondered while they were there if there was some way of catching fish.  Surely it must be possible, if they could create hooks from bent metal and find something to use as string?  Or something to use as a big net?  Not that fishing was something she knew much about.  Probably they'd soon learn, though.  They'd have too.  

    As she was standing staring out to see she saw something unusual.  A plastic bottle was floating past not far from the shore.  Where had that come from?  Had it fallen overboard from a ship?  If so, how far away was the ship, and had it passed the island close enough to spot their signal fire?  It was being washed towards the beach.  She waded out into the sea and caught the bottle.  The lid was screwed on tightly and there appeared to be a piece of paper inside.  

   Ruth made her way back to the beach, opened the bottle, and after some wiggling around with a stick, extracted the paper.  There was a message on it.

   "Please help, we're trapped on a desert island after our plane crashed.  Come and rescue us!" It was signed by Amy and Sophie.  Ruth smiled and put the paper back in the bottle.  She tightened the lid and clambered out over the rocks that ran down to the sea there and cut off the beach.  She threw the bottle back into the water, as far out from the shore as possible.  It was unlikely it would do any good, but where was the harm?  Anything that kept spirits up and hope alive was good.  

   Soon it was hot, hotter than it had been since they landed.  One by one everyone trickled back to camp and sat or lay in the shade of the rocks and trees, with no energy to move.  Ruth began to wonder if this was the island's normal temperature.  That wouldn't be pleasant.  Fortunately, they had all brought suncream with them.  Everyone was already deeply tanned.

   It was late in the afternoon before they began to feel any cooler.  Some of the girls went down to the beach for a swim.  Ruth was used to the freezing cold water of the North Sea, and compared to that this was warm, but it was pleasantly cool after the heat of the land.  And yet when they left the water and sat on the beach to dry, she felt something was wrong.  The air felt- different.  She wasn't sure why or what it meant.  She just sensed something different.

   She felt that it was affecting the others too.  That evening tempers seemed a little fraught, words and tones of voice seemed harsher than the previous night.  Perhaps it was just the nagging thought that yet another day had gone past without sight or sound of any rescue attempt.  And in the background they could still hear the menacing animal noises.


   Patrick had been away all day again, but this time when he returned he had at least brought with him a lot of fruit and berries that he had collected on his travels- and some advice.  

   "Don't eat those ones," he said, bringing some shiny bright red berries out of his pocket.  Ruth looked at him, and didn't ask how he knew.  She could guess.

   The only good news was that the techies had at last finished the new shelter.  Tonight everyone could sleep inside, and since they would be less crowded hopefully it would be cooler.  Ruth looked up at the sky, which was thick with hot, oppressive clouds.  Just in time, she thought.  It felt like a storm was brewing.

The story continues...