I throw my hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You said enough back at camp. Them coming back is going to happen. It won’t matter if this is here or not.”
“Your opinion, and I disagree.”
Sam stands back, his hands on his hips. “I don’t think it’s going to matter. This has got more sand in it than Penny’s fur at the end of the day. No way it’s going to run.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” Calvin smirks up at him.
“Fine, you play with it. Help me find some chickens.” Zane cocks his head to the jungle.
“Sure.” I follow Zane up the beach as it rises to the jungle. How much time are we going to spend here? I just want to get back to Haley. It’s got to be at least one—I check the sun as we dip into the jungle. We fight through thick vegetation. The memory of that morning surges back at me. “Where did you find the eggs before?”
“This way.” Zane turns the opposite direction to where Calvin and I ran.
It’s coming back in waves. The thud of our steps, the tearing of my skin. The bile rising up my throat.
This side of the island must not get the same breeze as back at camp. It’s damn humid, and bugs are buzzing around my ears. I swat at my neck, and my shoulder cries out, on fire. “Fuck.”
“You good, mate?”
“Peachy.”
“I don’t see any signs of the chickens yet.”
“Yeah.” I clench my eyes tightly closed. It isn’t helping anything. We need to find some damn birds and get the hell out of here. “They can be tough to spot. Look low.”
Zane shoots me ano shitlook.
“You found them before. We can find them again.”
“That’s the spirit.” He gives me a verbal slap on the back.
We move through the jungle, and it’s at least ten minutes before I realize that neither Zane or I are making any noise. There in the underbrush beneath some ferns, I spot some dark red and brown feathers. I point and make hand signals that seven months ago would have had me scoffing. Zane follows my instructions, circling around the side.
I dart my hand under the fern and snag the leg of a hen. I pull her out upside down. She’s squawking, batting her wings against my legs. I do like the farmer used to do and tuck her under my arm. Her neck cranes up to me.
That’s when I see it. She’s sitting not on a nest of eggs but a nest of chicks. Ten or more scramble out around my feet, missing the warmth of their mother.
“Shit, shit.” Zane’s eyes are wide. “You did it.”
“Yeah. Take your shirt off, tie one end shut, and get all the chicks into it,” I say.
Zane does, dropping flat to the ground and filling his shirt. “They’re so cute.” He pivots on the path, going back the way we came.
“Wait.” There’s peeping coming from a few steps away. “Fuck, there’s another nest.”
I’ve got a hen under each arm. Zane’s cradling his shirt as we come out onto the beach.
“What the hell have you guys been doing?” Calvin yells.
“Wanking off,” I say, sounding more like Zane than myself. “What the hell does it look like we’ve been doing?”
“Hold this. Don’t drop it.” Zane passes the chick bag to Sam. “It’s chicks,” Zane answers before Sam asks. Zane grabs the bin from the tender and pulls the lid off it. He takes the chicks out of the shirt one at a time, carefully placing them in the tub.
“Get the lid ready. I’m going to drop the hens in together.” As long as I’ve kept pressure on the birds, they’ve been mostly quiet.
“No, wait, give me one.” Calvin takes the one from my bad arm. He flips it over. Holding its wings and back with one hand, he draws a line from the beak down with the other. The chicken closes its eyes in a trance. Calvin lays it down in the bin of chicks. The little balls of fuzz gather around it. Calvin takes the second one and does the same thing. Zane affixes the lid.
