Survivors by Jeff Probst

Author:Jeff Probst
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-02-11T21:46:50+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Carter startled himself awake.

He’d been dreaming—about what, he wasn’t even sure. Something had been chasing him. Something getting closer. Reaching out to grab him. And then—

He sat up on the deck, breathing heavily and remembering where he was. This fever wasn’t doing him any favors—that was for sure.

The campfire had burned down while he slept. Its embers were still bright orange, but he needed to feed it soon if he didn’t want to lose it. With Buzz, Vanessa, and Jane off sweating in the jungle, it was the very least he could do.

Carter shuffled across the deck and into the wheelhouse for more of the dry wood Buzz had stacked there. His bad hand was swollen stiff, but he could still grip certain things like pieces of firewood, as long as they weren’t too small. He bent down, grabbed an armload, and stood up.

His head swam. The room started spinning. Carter dropped the wood, leaned against the wall, and slid back down to the floor.

Tears squeezed out from the corners of his eyes. Even standing too fast was a problem. It was beyond frustrating. When they’d landed on the island, he had been the strong one. He had been the one they could all count on to get the most done. But not anymore.

Without thinking, he pounded the steel deck with his bad hand. It sent a nauseating bolt of pain up his arm, and he screamed—as much from the frustration as anything else. He took up a piece of the firewood with his good hand and flung it as hard as he could, not caring where it went.

A small crash sounded from the other side of the room, followed by the sound of broken glass falling onto the floor. Carter looked over to see a row of framed photographs above the wheelhouse windows. Two of them were smashed, their frames splintered at the corners.

He’d walked by those photos a hundred times without ever really noticing them. Now he saw that they were fishing pictures. In one, several men were casting off the back of a boat. In another, someone stood on a dock next to an enormous swordfish.

It was a painful reminder of Carter’s own empty belly and everything he hadn’t been able to accomplish here. He picked up another piece of wood and took out two more of the photos with one throw.

For a long time, Carter didn’t move. The anger that coursed through him was a paralyzing feeling. His muscles and his mind seemed locked up together inside of it. And who was there to blame for all this? No one. Not even himself.

They’d done nothing wrong. This was all supposed to have been a fun sailing trip, a week on the boat with Uncle Dexter. Their parents thought it would be a chance for the four kids to get to know one another better, as brothers and sisters. Now, here they were, fighting for their lives instead. And it sure didn’t feel like a fair fight.

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