An Ally on an Island

When he saw the tail of the jet sink into the ocean, he knew that he would have to settle on the island for a while. The weather was still rough, but he was able to guide the parachute towards the breakers on the shore that already had some of the wreckage. With a quick flip, he fell forward onto the sand, detaching the parachute before the wind pulled him into the ocean. It caught on the rock that kept a wave off of him, flapping in the air as the sky darkened and rain pelted his uniform. Well, that was an interesting end to the day, he thought, staring up at the cloud-thick sky and letting sleep take over. No tides at night, no tides at night, no tides…

…No tides to take him away…

The sun was now out, and it was completely unmerciful. Without really knowing how, he had somehow ended up on the rock, resting in a perfect concave on top, much like a crib. The view from on top was excellent, he thought, noting that the parachute was now wrapped around him without a breeze to disturb it. But there was still the mystery of his place of rest. He was too tired and hungry to think about the details of last night, but he wanted to know. His uniform itched. The beach was clear.

And he could tell that the tide had passed during the night.

His stomach went concave as he considered the view: he could have been drowned; he could have been pulled out into the current; he could have been consumed by whatever lived in the water this far from his home. The rock saved him. The decision to be on top saved him. Someone saved him.

“Hello!”

The sound of the voice nearly pushed him off the edge into the water, but he could not place it…until he felt something on his left leg crawling with purpose.

“Hello!”

Well, at least he would have something to eat.

“Yeah, down here. Hello!”

A crab with a hard red skin was looking up at him, gesturing with a claw (did it want to shake?). It was waiting for him to act.

“Yeah, me. You can shake hands, right? The crash didn’t hurt your limbs. I checked…”

The sun must have been more powerful than he thought. And the idea of a concussion was not too far from his thoughts. His thoughts… What was he thinking of now? Loss of sanity? Could happen, but that would take longer than just one night, wouldn’t it?

“Look at me. You are not going insane. We are having a conversation and you are ignoring me. Rather rude, I think.”

He sat back down without much thought. Okay, this was going to be fun.

“Hi.”

“And hello to you, too! Are you all right? That crash looked pretty nasty. For a pilot who travels solo, you should have known how dangerous it was to go out on a night like that.”

He sat back up and touched his head. Definitely a concussion…

“Solo…”

“Yeah, from the make of that plane, you must have been up there alone. Probably a recon run for the boys in the front office…”

“What the…?”

The crab stared up at him, looking up at him with two long probing eyes that seemed…sympathetic?

“Don’t worry. You ain’t crazy. I have friends in deep places.” It did laugh at that one; he tried to and gave up on the effort. “We have had a lot of experience with you and your…toys. But that is the past. We have a lot to do.”

“Like what?” That’s right, he thought. If I am going to lose my mind, I may as well go all the way with it.

The crab looked out at the beach.

“Well, the tide left us both a lot of goodies. Couldn’t let you drown without seeing them. And we have…”

“Goodies?”

Was that a smile? The heat was really getting to him.

“Yeah, a lot of stuff from your plane and from all the others that have dropped things in our home over the years. You’d be surprised what we found…”

“We?”

“Again, ‘friends in low places’. We have kept quite a pile of stuff here. And like I said, I wouldn’t want you to not see it. That’s why we put you on the rock. Tide never touches it.”

Despite his growing insanity, the pilot realized that this was the only part of the story that was making any sense. A dolphin could have pushed him over to it and then, if it was in a school, could have dumped him on top. They took care of sailors, so why not…?

Was rationalization a form of mental illness?

“So, let’s go take a look.” The crab crawled down his leg, paused as it considered the waves breaking gently around the rock, and looked back. “I have so much to show you.”

The pilot considered the last twenty-four hours: notes on a private mission; bad weather; errant lightning compounded with some technical glitch he could not name; escape.

A talking crab was not that big a deal.

He stood up and jumped to the shore.

The little guy did not lie. The crab crawled up his leg and guided him deeper into the jungle. They found themselves on a path that was sandy at first, and then it became grassy, rocky and finally smooth…as if there had been others before him who had crushed this path into the earth. He did not want to think too much about this. The sun was merciless and he could only find the occasional coconut to open up and imbibe from as they walked.

And then they were at the cave.

“You gotta light?”

Before he could find it, the crab took out his waterproof matches from a side pocket of his flight suit and passed it to him with a friendly claw.

“Just messing with ya. I knew you had them. Strike one up when I tell ya…”

The air was cooler and comfortable in the spacious formation, with some hint of a breeze from a distance inside that he could only guess at. The crab tugged at his shirt.

“Now!”

No, the little guy did not lie. They had been storing a lot of stuff here for what looked like the last hundred years. Ammunition, clothes, food, medicine, equipment, machine parts, segments of planes, jeeps, boats, rafts, and so on extended into the depths of the cave. The most important thing for him right now was the oil lamp he saw on a crate marked “Iodine”. It was easy to light it up and carry with him as he explored the space.

“Pretty cool, right?”

It was pretty cool. It was just hard for him to speak right now.

“Hello? Are you okay?” The crab crawled up his leg and landed in the pocket with the matches. “You like?”

“Yeah. This is just…I need to rest for a bit.”

“Of course, of course… We set up a cot for ya. Hope that you ain’t expecting silk sheets and room service. Just down this way.”

The tent was set up in a space with a small barbecue grill in front and some potable water in a cooler right by the entrance. As he could see from the unzipped entrance, an electric lamp was on a small side table, next to a cot that looked like it had been first created for World War One. There was also a small wardrobe inside and a hat stand that all somehow seemed to fit into that space without taking up too much room. The crab leapt from his clothes and landed on the cot.

“So, this is yours. Just take some time to rest and get better. We have already thought about food and have set out some grub for ya.”

The crab then jumped down to the padded floor – the pattern reminded the pilot of a tablecloth – and walked to the entrance.

“So real…”

He was tired as he stepped toward the cot and noted that there was a set of clothes on one of the tables (where had he seen them before?). His flight suit was heavy with both his sweat and sea salt, and it was a relief to final hang it on the hat rack and stretch. The hunger was something that he hoped would go away with whatever food was promised to him, but he trusted that things were going to get better. If he was going to lose his mind, this would be the way to do it.

He lay on the blanket and let himself rest.

For the next few months, he lived his life like nothing unusual had happened. The crab would appear at different times and point out that food was available, join him on hikes around the island (much larger than he had suspected), and show him just how much equipment and other items were stored in that cave (there was so much for one spot).

There was one thing that bothered him: no contact with the outside world. There was plenty of equipment to built huts, lamps, motors and the like, but there was nothing that could be used to create radio contact. It was frustrating to pass by a set of crates labeled “Car Parts” or “Hurricane Lamps”, and yet see nothing to simply speak to the outside world.

The crab noted this, seeing the long face of the pilot as he finished another set of rations.

“What’s eating you?”

He stared off at the ocean as he pushed his plate away and leaned against the hut.

“I’m stuck here.”

“Ain’t so bad, is it?”

The pilot looked at the crab across from him, noting how it was finishing another drink from a shot glass that always seemed to be nearby during his meals.

“I have family and friends, y’know.”

“We all do.”

“And I miss them…”

The crab finished his drink – some liquor he did not sample, or could place – and stared up at him with both stalks.

“You really do?”

“Yeah, I mean…I’m grateful and all, but I think I should go back…somehow.”

The crab was not a vicious animal. He had a family of his own and he knew how difficult it was to be away from them with this human. He could barely imagine what it was like for humans (they were harder to read than crustaceans). He put the glass aside and sighed.

“Just a minute.”

It hopped down to the sand, scuttling quickly toward the rock he first slept on when he landed. As he passed around it, he wondered if he had offended the little guy – still did not know its name, but he guessed it was male – and he wanted to head back to the cave. But the crab returned, this time with a seashell.

“Here.”

It threw the seashell onto the table, knocking over the shot glass and bouncing onto the plate in front of the pilot.

“What?”

“You really want to go home?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, here’s what you do: put that thing up to your ear and listen to the ocean.”

He stared at the crab and his present. It was quite beautiful and caught the light of midday in its rippled surface.

“You serious?”

“Always. Just do it.”

“Really, just…”

“Go ahead.”

He stared at the shell, picking it up and looking down at the crab as he prepared to listen to the wide body of water breaking and crashing in front of him.

“Hey, if this works…”

“No problem. It was an interesting time…”

He put the shell up to his ear and waited…

And then he woke up.

The staff was pleased that he woke up and they could finally speak to him about his time on the island. A nurse and doctor on duty smiled as he woke and looked around his surroundings, but he was more concerned about what was digging into the pocket of his flight suit. A claw from a crab had torn a hole into his skin and the pain was impossible to ignore, as was the parachute he had used to wrap up that part of his leg (when did he try to stop that bleeding?) They all congratulated him on his survival, but he had very little to say to them. He was much more interested in the seashell that glistened in the neon light. It was right under the bedside lamp and it seemed to catch all kinds of light with the harsh glare around him.

The staff would have to wait before he told his story.

*

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