Stranded on an Island with Mr. CEO
Ariana said, looking toward the dark line of the jungle, "what if they’re still here? Somewhere on the other side of the ridge?"
I looked at the charred hull. The damage looked old and the soot was baked into the rubber, weathered by weeks of sun and spray. "If they are, they haven't made themselves known. No smoke signals, no flares. For our sake, I hope they’re friendlies. Or long gone."
The thought of others unsettled me, but the island had a way of forcing you back into the present. We had a routine to maintain, and Ariana was a stickler for the few luxuries we had left.
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