Island Pleasures Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Island Pleasures

  Noah Harris

  Contents

  Island Pleasures

  All Rights Reserved

  Get Noah Harris Starter Library For Free

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Continue Reading:

  Acknowledgments

  All Rights Reserved

  Published by Books Unite People, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 by Noah Harris

  Proofreading by Author’s Pride.

  All registered trademarks in this book are the property of their respective owners.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. All resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Please don't read if you are under eighteen.

  All rights reserved.

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  Chapter 1

  Amidst the groggy silence of nothingness and the pulse of the throbbing pain that seemed to course through everywhere at once, the gentle sound of water lapping against the shore was the first sound he became aware of. The white noise gradually drew the man out of unconsciousness, assuring him that he was indeed alive. His eyes twitched as he slowly dragged himself from out of the clutches of darkness. He groaned as he felt the sharp stabs of pain racing from his head and spreading down his spine. A warm, grainy softness greeted his cheek as he winced from the pain that emanated from every part of his body. Though he had been out cold for who knows how long, he still felt heavy with exhaustion. He opened his eyes to a blinding white and gingerly rolled over onto his back. His breathing was heavy as he took in his new surroundings.

  He slowly trailed his hands through the pearly white sand under his body, letting the particles run between his fingers. The waves flowed against his feet, alternatively rolling in, then pulling out against the shore. He meekly opened his eyes again, in order to fully take in the sky above him, only to see nothing but faint hues of grey.

  The man pulled himself up, using all his strength to sit upright. His drenched fatigues clung to his body, pulling him back toward the ground. Water dripped from his short blond hair, rolling down his face onto the sandy ground. With a grunt, he coughed out salty water and cleared his eyes, taking a better look at his surroundings and trying to recollect the events that had led him here. Pristine blue waters filled most of his view, fading to a darker blue further from the shore. The crashing waves were crowned by wispy strands of mist that gracefully danced atop the horizon, swirling around and obscuring the world beyond. The haze wrapped itself around thick, black rock formations that stood motionless in the churning waves and wove through the trunks of the trees behind him. Sprouting up from the green treetops rose a mountain, overlooking the ocean and everything below. Thick clouds obscured the mountaintop, shrouding the finer details and instead creating a darkened silhouette. The overbearing presence of the peak loomed over him and everything within his sight.

  He coughed again, his back arching as he retched out more salty water. He looked down at himself; his olive fatigues soaked through, and then he cautiously scanned the surrounding beach. Aside from the sounds of the ocean and the occasional cry of a bird, not a living soul was there. Neither a single person nor any sign of life. No buildings, no fire or smoke, nothing. Just him and the chilling stillness of nature.

  His soaked fatigues weighed him down and sent a chill through him. Since no one was around, he began to peel the clothes off his shivering body and drop them to the sand. He looked over his uniform as he laid it out neatly. His fingers traced over the nametag that read ‘Barry Hodgeson’ in clear block letters, located not far from the insignia of the U.S. Coast Guard.

  Barry stood on the mysterious beach with his hands at his waist, getting himself used to standing again. With the cold, wet clothes no longer stuck to him, his smooth, alabaster skin was revealed to the harsh wilderness to do with it as it pleased. His damp chest glistened with the salty moisture of sea water, and had the sun not been hidden behind the thick clouds, the definition of his toned body would be highlighted with speckles of radiant sunlight.

  He looked down at his body and his lips pursed slightly as his insecurities surfaced. Try as he might, he never seemed to be able to bulk up like so many of his friends. He thought about their broad shoulders and sturdy muscular arms, and how easy it seemed for them to build muscle. He fixated on that for a moment, then his thoughts returned to his own body. It was mostly untouched by the sun, save for the slight transition from bleak white to a sun-kissed pink where the bulge of the bicep ended. His body was in great shape though; his frame was narrow, aside from his wide shoulders and thick neck. While his body didn’t build up enormous muscles, what he did build had a pleasant bearing that Barry often overlooked.

  His round brown eyes looked to the horizon as he sagged down next to his clothes with a tired grunt. He sat in such a way as to protect his most vulnerable areas from the environment, or from anyone’s gaze should someone pass by, though that seemed unlikely. His hand stayed close to his clothes though, just in case someone did appear. As much as he needed and wished for someone, anyone, to come by and lead him back to civilization, he hoped they would come after his clothes were dry. Barry’s gaze lingered on the ocean as he continued to sit there alone with his thoughts. The emptiness was his only companion, sending chills down his spine. The continual crashing of the foam-topped waves filled his mind as he sat. His eyes followed their motion as he listened to the world around him, trying to think. The waves continued their rhythm, gently lulling him, while birds chirped and sang. Even the wind seemed to join in with a low mournful sound. It seemed calm, but the rumble rushed past him with a twisted, supernatural cry only to fade further out to sea.

  Barry’s eyes widened at the sound of that wind. His mind went reeling back to where he had heard it before. The winds howled and screamed around him in a vicious torrent as they rocked the helicopter with all their might. These were the strongest winds he had ever encountered, and they tore at the helicopter as if with a passionate vendetta, determined to make this his final moment.

  He recalled the exact words of the radio bulletin, every detail still clear in his mind.

  “There’s a report of a man lost at sea. Caution—this mission would require flight over the Bermuda Triangle under negative weather conditions.”

  He recalled his own reply just as well.

  “That all? We got this.”

  There wasn’t a storm that could keep him back. Every ounce of his nervous energy was channelled into pushing him forward to do his duty. No one would ever say he backed down from anything, and no one would live to say he was a coward. With his usual smirk, he went off into the stormy night with his squad, piloting his way through the maelstrom.

  He had never heard winds like this before. Drowning out the voices of those with him, the rumbli
ng moan of the winds shook the helicopter wildly. Beastly gusts seemed to push the metal chopper, almost with delight, as Barry rocked in his seat, hands gripped tightly on the controls and teeth gritted. There was no seeing through the clouds. It was pitch black out there.

  The last thing he felt was his body being pulled intensely in all directions as the world seemed to plummet towards him. A sharp pain seared through him but was quickly followed by nothing as he slipped into unconsciousness with a final cry from the shattering winds.

  “And now…I am…wherever I am,” Barry murmured, his brow furrowing. The waves crashed against the shore, seemingly oblivious to his plight. The world around him gave no response, it only continued on, except for a reappearance of the bellowing wind that wailed from the distance. Barry shuddered at the sound.

  “It’s no problem,” he said aloud, “They know I’m out here. They’ll find me.”

  As he stood to go and investigate the surrounding area, another great howl bellowed past. He clutched his arms, covered in gashes, and pushed himself forward. His lips pursed as he thought of the sound and winced. Still, he trudged onward to explore. It’ll be fine.

  Barry plunged the makeshift knife of sharpened stone into the bark of the tree with a dissatisfied snarl, carving another straight line. Several bars were already carved into it, seven clusters and he just finished making the third of the new group. He still clutched the sharpened stone as he looked at the marks and sighed. A single mark for each day. His grip tightened as he thought about how many marks there were.

  His blond hair had grown shaggy, twirling and twisting down the sides of his round, now tanned face. He felt his jaw and groaned at the smoothness of it. Twenty-five years old and he still couldn’t grow a proper beard. Not even a hint of stubble. He rolled his eyes, trying not to think about it. In the midst of trying to survive out here, the lack of a beard, or even stubble, was the least of his worries. His days consisted of picking his way through the thick foliage of the forest, hunting for food, snatching eggs from hidden nests and occasionally catching a bird. With a lean-to built and a freshwater supply located, he at least had his basic needs met.

  Safe among the fruit-bearing trees and clean water in this warm climate, he had very little to worry about for the time being.

  The beach was now the parchment for his message to anyone. “HELP” was written in black stones, as large as he could make it. Each day he passed by it, his confidence sank as he grew more certain that he was the only one that had ever read the message. He had surveyed the island as much as he possibly could, exploring through the thick of the forest and along all the sandy shores. Each deep cove he investigated brought a grin of excitement to his face. He found joy from simply running his fingers across the cool, smooth interiors of the water-eroded caves and discovering intriguing new land formations.

  Discovering what secrets the island had to offer took his mind off the severity of his situation for a little while. Climbing the rocks and navigating his way through the thick vegetation brought back the same feelings of adventure he’d enjoyed as a kid, exploring the hills and woods in Minnesota. There was only one area that he couldn’t bring himself to explore: the tall mountain that rose from the shore. He had actually tried it one day, thinking that if he could get a view from higher up, maybe he could find something. He clung to the rocks and began to push himself upwards, sweat pouring from his brow and down his narrow, square chest. He reached out to cling to the next available handhold in the rock and pulled his body up further, higher and higher he went. His curiosity was abruptly snuffed out when the mournful cry of the wind bellowed around him once more, shaking the mountain and pelting him with a barrage of small stones from above.

  A larger stone from higher up broke free with a crack and came careening towards Barry. With a yelp he just managed to jump out of the way in time to avoid it. He crashed onto the sandy dirt below, the rock landing close by. His stomach twisted and his confidence sank as the echo of that wind resonated around him and the mountain.

  That was a close one, he thought to himself. I’ll try again another day. I’m just not at full strength yet. That’s all.

  The countless hours by himself either flew by or stood completely still. With each passing day it grew harder and harder to remember just how much time had passed. The thick haze never left the horizon and the sky was always blotchy. There wasn’t a day since he had arrived that he actually saw the sun, and he could only mark the passage of time by the absolute absence of light brought on by the night. There was no moon to guide his steps or stars to shine in the sky above, just pure darkness.

  It was that darkness he couldn’t stand, and he found himself shaking in fear during the darkest hours. Throughout the day if there was rustling in the bushes around him, he knew it probably meant some wild animal fleeing the scene. But as the night took hold with only a small fire for company, each noise he heard had him imagining the worst. The rustling surrounded him like a constrictive grip. He would sit close to the fire with a sharp rock in hand, teeth gritted, and silently waiting for whatever might be making its way toward him. He tried to assure himself that he wasn’t afraid; there was nothing out there he couldn’t handle. But as much as he told himself that he was ready to fight whatever came his way, the pitch darkness and hours of solitude had fueled some long-forgotten, primal part of his mind, and sent him into a panic.

  Each morning he would wake up as if nothing had happened, able to put aside his fear, and eat the fruit he found lying nearby. He never remembered gathering this fruit, often reassuring himself...some animal must’ve dropped it. I’ve got nothing to worry about. Repeating the mantra he sank his teeth into this morning’s surprise stash. He would nod to himself triumphantly as the juice dribbled down his chin and dropped onto his taut stomach, leaving glistening trails against his skin, now tanned from the hidden sun which filtered through the ever-present clouds and mist.

  With each day alone on the island, the relationship between him and his thoughts grew closer and closer. The pristine beaches seemed even emptier than they really were, as his view was tainted by despair. The white noise of the surrounding ocean made the still silence of the island echo louder with each passing day. Barry delved into his own mind more often than he ever had before to stave off the pangs of loneliness that had set in. As ridiculous as talking to himself may have seemed back on the mainland, he had taken to providing his own running commentary to soften the silence and keep himself company. He would announce everything that came into his head, to the quiet world around him.

  His words were always greeted by that thick wall of nothing, the silence only broken by the occasional rustling of the bushes nearby. The more he stared at the horizon, the more his heart twisted into an uneasy lump clinging to the sides of his ribs. There was no sun and no moon, but only the constant swirling of haze. He would stare at it for what seemed like hours while letting his body—now developed more firmly with the strain of survival—relax and go limp. His mind, already growing more vocal, would go wild, expanding outwards to the universe, yet closing in on itself.

  “Mom. Dad. I hope you guys are doing okay.”

  “They say parents have a sixth sense about this sorta thing. Maybe that’s true, and they know I’m okay. I’m sure they’re managing like they always do. I can just hear the conversation. Dad will be like, ‘He’ll be fine, he’s a Hodgeson man. Comes from tough stock. Dammit, Carol, quit your crying, you knew this was gonna happen when he enlisted.’

  “Then mom will chime in, ‘Oh, but my baby’s out there and they don’t know where he is!’

  “‘He’s a grown man, quit calling him that! He doesn’t appreciate being coddled.’ Then Mom would cry for sure, she hated Dad barking at her, especially when she was already upset.”

  “Who am I kidding, of course they’re not okay. Mom always worried if I stayed out even half an hour late. I really hope she’s alright.”

  “That fog never seems to end. It just keeps going and
going. Where could I be? The island is tropical but this weather isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. At least not in this region. Maybe I...am I dead? I’m dead, this is hell and I’m paying for all my sins? Bullshit, if I was dead, I wouldn’t feel hungry. Then again, if I’m in hell, I probably would be hungry. That’s a form of suffering. No, I haven’t done anything wrong…have I? No, that can’t be right. I’ve saved my share of survivors, that’s gotta balance out some of the bad stuff I did. I mean, there was that time I stole Mom’s car and crashed it. But she forgave me, and it was barely a crash. I ran away that time and lived with Geoff for a little bit. Running away isn’t a sin, is it? Shit. Shoulda paid more attention at church. Maybe because that one night Geoff and I experi—no. No. We were drunk. That doesn’t count. We were just goofing around. I can’t go to Hell for goofing around. Can I?”

  “What if this place doesn’t really exist? What if I don’t exist? I mean, the world keeps going regardless, right? It doesn’t matter one bit if I’m there or not. The Coast Guard is recruiting all the time anyway; they can always recruit one more. They’ll move on…and really, in the grand scheme of things, I’m very small. Whatever I feel is tiny compared to how big the world is. But it’s only big to me. There are so many worlds out there that are bigger, and it all keeps going. Maybe it doesn’t matter if I’m here or not. Maybe I don’t matter and never have.”

  The clouds obscuring the distance would lull him into a state of calm for a period of time. He would sit and stare at the shrouded horizon while letting his mind wander, then snap out of it at the abrupt sound of the bellowing wind. That earth-rumbling blast of air would send uneasy shivers down his body, but then he would be put at ease by the sight of nearby fish or birds. The thoughts that sailed through his psyche and across the cosmos, and the fears brought on by the unsettling winds, were overpowered by his hunger for food.