RockFord Island

Chapter Five

          After the most amazing evening at the watering hole, all four of us decided to build a campfire long the shoreline back near our tents. Using some rocks and sticks the group collected in the jungle, we lit a small fire with the lighter that Shawn uses for his cigarettes. 

          The dark night sky now casts a blanket of stillness over us. Countless stars shine above, accompanied by a pale full moon that reflects down on the ocean. The campfire crackles and pops, and the sound of the reef gently crashing out into the sea soothes us.

          "Damn. What a day, hey?" Shawn says, resting back in the soft sand.

          "What a day, indeed," I agree, getting ready to take another shot. I pop off the cap to the vodka bottle, and take a quick swig. I squint after the harsh liquid trickles down my throat. For a second, it feels like my nose and the roof of my mouth are burning. I'm a bit of a wimp when it comes to liquor, but I stick it out for the group, and the sensations quickly go away. The group is also passing around a couple of joints, which we illegally bought back on the mainland before deporting to the mysterious island. They were horribly rolled and burn poorly, but it's a great experience, cast away in paradise. 

          "I think it's fair to say this tops Beverly Hills," I argue. "I would choose this any day over some California dreaming."

          Christina nods again. "I couldn't agree more. You can't find a place like this in North America. Everything nowadays is just technology, technology, and more technology." She casually sips on her white wine, straight from the bottle.

          "It's true," Shawn admits, flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Like seriously."

          "Yeah. It does sound a little extreme," I reply, adjusting my body.

          Christina places her bottle of wine in the sand, then glances back and forth at us. "So, does anyone have some cool campfire stories they wanna share? Something funny—or...something scary?"

          It takes a moment before anyone speaks up, before Shawn barges in.

          "Fine. I think I've got something." He looks over at Oscar. "Hey, bro, should I tell them about my old 'friends' who had that horrible experience? Remember, the couple from North Seattle College I told you about?"

          Oscar is laying on his back, watching the stars. He uses a backpack to support his neck, and has a half-empty beer bottle in his hand.

          "Yeah, man. Go for it," he says blankly, not making eye contact with any of us. "I'm sure they'll find it funny."

          Though Oscar seems a little distant tonight. Maybe it's just me, but I feel like he's in his own little world. That's odd for him. Usually, he's the one leading discussions and cracking jokes. I don't know. I've always been good at reading people's body language. Though maybe I'm just acting weird and have been drinking too much.

          Regardless, Shawn starts telling us the story. "Okay, so I had this friend in my last semester of college, right? And he met this girl who he was crazy for—and I mean crazy."

          "Aww, that's sweet," Christina mumbles over the fire.

          "Yeah, well. Let me finish," Shawn responds, continuing on with the story. "So anyway, they were kind of like a hippie couple, right? Almost like Brad and Cindy from the pub the other night."

          We all laugh.

          "So they liked to do some drugs together here and there. Well, my buddy calls up his dealer, and turns out the guy was out of town. It was probably bullshit, and the dealer just got arrested, but we're gonna play along for the sake of the story, okay?"