Ficlets

Spalding

Yep, I wasn’t alone on that stupid island. But wait, there’s more coming!

“What happened?” Tray mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his head. There was a slight bruise where the coconut shell had hit him.

“You went flying out of the boat headfirst,” Blaire stated, standing up. She observed him critically. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Tray grumbled, and squinted against the tropical sunlight; he saw that despite the comment, Blaire was grinning slightly.

“I bet you’re hungry,” Blaire said, and then pointed in the direction of the yacht. “There should be fruit over there, inside – I’ll crack a coconut open for you.”

“And then you’ll call it Spalding?”

“Shut up, Tray.”

It went on like this for a few moments, until they finally sat together to find out what to do next.

“You you have any idea where we are?” he asked her.

“We might be on Easter Island…” Blaire sighed, rubbing her salt encrusted temples. “But so far, I haven’t seen anything – no tourists, no signs of life.”

“Great.”

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