FIC - Shipwrecked - Lost... but found (1/3)
Title: Shipwrecked - Lost... but found (1/3)
Author/Artist: Wheelie47
Beta: Valenti1965 - thanks for your support and encouragement, Louise!
Rating: NC17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys!
Characters/Pairings: Van and Jake (JANSIS)
Word Count: approx 10,500 (in total)
Warnings: A little bit of angst.
Summary: Van and Jake are shipwrecked on a desert island. Told from Jake’s POV.
Author’s Notes: There are no significant others in this fic; Van and Jake are both single.
Link to Master Post and art: Here!
Original Prompt: #12 - "Castaway" inspired. They are shipwrecked on a desert island.
Written for Summerfest 2013 over on nukebigbang
Chapter 1
“Fuck!” Jake groaned as he came to. Everything hurt. He swore even his hair hurt. How was that even possible?
As his senses kicked in, he became aware of everything all at once. Birds were calling to each other off in the distance, the sun was hot on his back through the material of his shirt, gentle waves were repeatedly lapping over his feet and up his calves, he tasted salt on his lips and in his mouth when he tried to swallow and, finally, he realized his face was pressed deeply into sand, the grains cutting into his skin like a thousand miniscule shards of glass.
With another groan, he opened his eyes and brought his hands up to ease himself into a sitting position. The movement made his head spin and he had to swallow down rising nausea.
Jake reached up to run a soothing hand over his forehead and his fingers encountered a warm and sticky substance.
He brought his hand back down.
Blood!
Using his fingertips, Jake gently probed the edge of a cut just above his hairline. He winced at the pain but he didn’t think it was too deep. Tearing a cleanish strip off the bottom of his shirt, Jake held the material over the cut as he looked around him.
Squinting against the strength of the South Pacific sun, he could hardly believe that only a few hours ago they had been caught up in a sudden and violent storm. Had it really only been hours ago? Or had he lain on this beach for a day… days even?
As Jake looked up and down the pristine beach marred only by a few scattered palm fronds and other debris and at the clear and calm ocean, he could almost imagine that the whole terrifying ordeal had just been a nightmare.
That was until he saw the boat.
The 32-footer, ‘Crystal Blue’, had seemed like the ideal island hopping boat when Jake had hired her. Van had smiled that dimpled smile of his and joked that with a name like that no other boat would do.
But now she was in a sorry state; not at all the boat that Jake had skippered out of the Rarotonga harbor.
She was stranded out on a reef some distance off the beach.
The monohull listed badly to port side, revealing a large gash in her starboard side which let in seawater as each and every gentle wave rolled over the coral. The deck was a mess, most of her portholes were smashed, the mast was splintered in two and the sail lay in tatters over the side where it caught on the sharp coral.
~~~~~
“Jake!” Van cried out, his arm outstretched and his face twisted in fear as the boat rolled violently, pitching him overboard into the darkness of the turbulent storm.
Jake stumbled across the deck to stand unsteadily at the spot where Van had disappeared. His hands white-knuckled the metal railing as he stared out into the night, trying to spot the familiar blonde head.
“Van!” he yelled in panic but a sudden gust of wind carried the sound of his voice away.
He called the blonde’s name again and again, not caring that the rain and wind were buffeting his face. He hoped that somehow Van would hear his voice out there in the darkness and be able to swim back to the boat.
“Van!”
This was hopeless!
Jake could see nothing; the brief flashes of lightning zigzagging across the sky didn’t last long enough to be of any real help.
He knew he should get to the radio to try to raise some help but he couldn’t bring himself to release his hold on the railing and step away from the side. He couldn’t leave Van out there alone if there was the slightest chance the man could hear his voice.
Jake’s head snapped up and he turned on the spot when he heard a sudden noise from behind him above the sound of the crashing waves and the howling wind.
Part of the rigging that held the mast in place had broken free and was swinging wildly in Jake’s direction. He tried to side-step out of the way but the boat rolled violently again, making him lurch unsteadily straight into its path.
His last thought was of Van before the rigging struck him and total blackness descended.
~~~~~
Van! He had to find the other man. If Jake had been washed up onto the beach then Van could’ve been too.
Jake hung onto that hope as he rose unsteadily to his feet, swallowing down the nausea that accompanied the movement.
“Van! Are you here?” he called out as he looked up and down the beach, hoping to see the blonde lying nearby.
He called again, louder this time, his voice disturbing several birds perched in nearby trees just on the edge of the beach.
But there was no answering call from Van.
Should he try to climb one of the trees for a better view? Or should he walk further up the beach?
In his current state, Jake really didn’t trust himself to climb one of the trees without falling and cracking his head open even further. So he made a decision and started up the beach in an unsteady gait, his bare feet trying to grip the hot sand. It didn’t even occur to him to wonder when he had lost his sneakers. He was far too worried about Van to care.
Wait! What was that?
Jake squinted against the sun’s bright glare, bringing his hand up to shade his eyes.
Could he just make out something lying half-submerged in the surf off in the distance?
“Van?” he yelled as he broke into an unsteady run.
He stumbled repeatedly in the sand but each and every time, he pushed himself back up and carried on running, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
Jake sped up as he got closer and recognized the figure lying face down in the sand; he would know that mass of blonde hair anywhere.
“Van. Thank fuck!” He dropped to his knees beside his friend, trying to ignore the growing panic that Van wasn’t moving.
Jake grabbed the palm frond covering Van’s legs, throwing it clear, before grasping the broad shoulders and turning the man onto his back.
“Shit!” he exclaimed when he saw the deep gash in Van’s side, the blood staining his powder blue vest a deep red.
Scanning up the length of Van’s body, Jake was horrified to see his skin had a pallid appearance and his lips had a blue tinge to them.
“Come on, Van! Don’t do this!” Jake urged desperately as he rubbed at the side of the blonde’s face, trying to get a reaction.
Nothing! No flicker of an eyelid or the rise and fall of his chest.
Dammit!
Van couldn’t die like this! Not here, not now. Jake hadn’t even had the chance to tell him how he really felt - to tell the man that he wanted them to be more than just good friends.
Why had he let Van go to L.A. without telling him the truth? That all those close and intimate moments on the show had driven him crazy because he’d wanted it to be them - Van and Jake - not Luke and Noah.
But when Van had come back East, Jake had seen his opportunity. He’d needed a little downtime between the play ending and the start of filming The Revival and Van looked like he could do with a little time away; he seemed to be finding it hard to slip back into New York life. So Jake had suggested a little island-hopping cruise, quickly re-assuring Van, when he’d seen the expression on the other man’s face, that the South Pacific Ocean would be as calm as a millpond this time of year. And, with Jake skippering the boat and with no strict schedule to keep to, if Van got bored of the ocean going life they could hole up on one of the islands and just soak up the sun.
Jake had intended to tell Van how he felt about him out here in this stunning part of the world.
But now he wouldn’t even get the chance.
This was all his fault, dammit! Who was he to think he was experienced enough to sail around these islands?
“No! I’m not letting you do this, Van!” Jake spoke with single-minded determination. This was not happening! He wasn’t going to get help from anyone else anytime soon, so it was up to him.
There was nothing else for it; he would have to start CPR.
But which way was it? Was it airway, breathing and chest or chest, airway and breathing? Jake was pretty sure he remembered reading somewhere about it changing, but which way?
“Oh fuck it!” Jake made a split decision; wasting time wasn’t going to help Van and it wasn’t as if he could make it any worse, could he?
He shifted in the sand to position himself by Van’s side and placed the heel of his left hand in the center of Van’s chest before placing his other hand on top and interlocking the fingers.
Taking a deep breath, Jake started pushing down hard on Van’s chest. He tried to ignore the popping and cracking he could feel beneath his hand as he began the compressions. He hoped to God he wasn’t breaking ribs or something.
He would have felt vaguely ridiculous timing his compressions to the beat of Stayin’ Alive playing in his head if he hadn’t been more worried for Van. With each compression, Jake carefully watched the blonde’s face for any sign of life; a twitch of the lips or a flutter of an eyelid.
Still nothing!
Jake stopped the compressions; they obviously weren’t working.
Now what?
“Airway!” Jake muttered to himself. “Keep your shit together, Jake.”
He scooted closer to Van’s head and wiped his shaking hands on his khaki cargo shorts. He held Van’s mouth open with one hand and probed inside the cavity with the index finger of the other to make sure there was no obstruction or debris.
“Seems OK,” Jake murmured to himself. Talking to himself like this seemed to be helping him concentrate and stopped him from freaking out completely.
He gently grasped Van’s head and tilted it back in the sand before he pinched the man’s nose between his thumb and forefinger. Forming a seal over Van’s mouth with his own, Jake tried to ignore just how cold the skin felt against his as he blew a shaky breath into Van.
Jake paused to see if there was any response. Nothing! He’d try one more breath before starting compressions again.
When the second breath still had no effect, Jake moved back to Van’s chest and interlocked his hands again. “Come the fuck on, Van!! You can’t leave me here on my own, dammit! I’m gonna miss those smart-ass wisecracks of yours.”
He was really beginning to panic now.
Suddenly, Jake heard and felt a gurgling spasm rising in Van’s chest beneath his hand. He stopped the compressions just as Van started to cough and heave violently, a mixture of seawater and vomit spilling from his mouth.
Jake reacted quickly to move Van onto his side so he didn’t choke. He was horrified to see just how much liquid the man was coughing up.
“Easy, Van. You’re OK,” Jake reassured with relief as his hand automatically came up to rub soothing circles on Van’s back, his other hand resting lightly on his hip. Jake couldn’t seem to stop touching Van… he didn’t want to.
When the heaving finally subsided, Van turned to squint up at him and Jake could see the green-flecked hazel was wet from the effort of coughing.
“What… what happened to you?” Van managed, his voice sounding sand-paper rough as he reached up feebly and touched Jake’s forehead just below cut.
“What happened to me?” Jake shook his head incredulously. “What happened to you?”
“I… I don’t know. I can’t remember much after falling overboard. Just being rolled over and over by the waves… and struggling to breathe.” He started to sit up and a flash of pain shot across his face. “Shit! That hurts!” he exclaimed as his hand went straight to his side.
“Here.” Jake helped him sit up before tearing another cleanish strip off the bottom of his shirt and pressing it over the wound.
He scooted around in the sand to sit behind Van, pulling him gently back against his chest to support him upright.
Another bout of coughing racked the man’s body and Jake brought his hand up between them to rub soothing circles over his back again.
When the coughing subsided, Van began to shiver uncontrollably.
“Cold?” Jake asked as he pulled his friend further back against him.
“Yeah,” Van replied through clenched teeth as he tried to control his shaking.
Jake pressed his chest further into Van’s back and hooked his chin over the man’s shoulder. A thought flared at the back of his mind that, in other circumstances, sitting on a deserted beach with Van snug against his chest could be very romantic and all kinds of hot. That excited Jake and made him nervous all at once and he had to swallow hard.
“Better?” he asked as he circled his arm around Van’s chest - careful of the wound in his side - and wrapped his legs tight against Van’s. He hoped it was just the cold Van was suffering from and that shock wasn’t setting in. He wished he had a blanket or something to keep the other man warm but everything they needed was out on that boat and they only had the clothes on their backs.
“A little, thanks.” Van’s voice sounded a little steadier as his hand came up to pat the back of Jake’s hand where it rested on his chest.
Jake was relieved to feel that Van’s skin was warmer now and, for a moment, he let himself focus on how Van’s hand felt on his.
He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the warmth and the closeness… relieved that they were both alive.
Should he tell Van right now how he felt about him? He’d wasted enough time already. How would Van react when he realized Jake had wanted him for so long now?
The feel of Van shuddering against his chest broke through his thoughts.
Thinking Van was getting cold again, Jake started to rub the blonde’s chest… until he realized Van was laughing.
Seriously?! He was laughing?!
“What the hell is so funny, Hansis?” Jake asked incredulously. “You’re lucky to be alive. We have been blown off course and are stranded on an island in the middle of fuck knows where. Everything we need - including any means of getting help - is out there on that boat which is taking on water and could sink at any moment. And that has you laughing?”
“I know… I know,” Van gasped, trying to control his laughter. “Shit, that hurts!” His hand moved to the makeshift bandage covering his wound.
“I know I shouldn’t be laughing and I’m sorry. It’s just I kinda got to thinking that maybe I should have taken you up on that offer to jump out of a plane with you. It would have been less dangerous than sailing around the South Pacific with you!”
“Asshole!” Jake retorted and nudged Van with his shoulder.
But he couldn’t help chuckling too; Van’s laugh was infectious.
After several moments, however, Jake’s laughter died away and the smile faded on his lips as he was hit by the realization of just how serious their situation was.
He had no idea how they were going to get out of this mess.
Chapter 2
Author/Artist: Wheelie47
Beta: Valenti1965 - thanks for your support and encouragement, Louise!
Rating: NC17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys!
Characters/Pairings: Van and Jake (JANSIS)
Word Count: approx 10,500 (in total)
Warnings: A little bit of angst.
Summary: Van and Jake are shipwrecked on a desert island. Told from Jake’s POV.
Author’s Notes: There are no significant others in this fic; Van and Jake are both single.
Link to Master Post and art: Here!
Original Prompt: #12 - "Castaway" inspired. They are shipwrecked on a desert island.
Written for Summerfest 2013 over on nukebigbang
Chapter 1
“Fuck!” Jake groaned as he came to. Everything hurt. He swore even his hair hurt. How was that even possible?
As his senses kicked in, he became aware of everything all at once. Birds were calling to each other off in the distance, the sun was hot on his back through the material of his shirt, gentle waves were repeatedly lapping over his feet and up his calves, he tasted salt on his lips and in his mouth when he tried to swallow and, finally, he realized his face was pressed deeply into sand, the grains cutting into his skin like a thousand miniscule shards of glass.
With another groan, he opened his eyes and brought his hands up to ease himself into a sitting position. The movement made his head spin and he had to swallow down rising nausea.
Jake reached up to run a soothing hand over his forehead and his fingers encountered a warm and sticky substance.
He brought his hand back down.
Blood!
Using his fingertips, Jake gently probed the edge of a cut just above his hairline. He winced at the pain but he didn’t think it was too deep. Tearing a cleanish strip off the bottom of his shirt, Jake held the material over the cut as he looked around him.
Squinting against the strength of the South Pacific sun, he could hardly believe that only a few hours ago they had been caught up in a sudden and violent storm. Had it really only been hours ago? Or had he lain on this beach for a day… days even?
As Jake looked up and down the pristine beach marred only by a few scattered palm fronds and other debris and at the clear and calm ocean, he could almost imagine that the whole terrifying ordeal had just been a nightmare.
That was until he saw the boat.
The 32-footer, ‘Crystal Blue’, had seemed like the ideal island hopping boat when Jake had hired her. Van had smiled that dimpled smile of his and joked that with a name like that no other boat would do.
But now she was in a sorry state; not at all the boat that Jake had skippered out of the Rarotonga harbor.
She was stranded out on a reef some distance off the beach.
The monohull listed badly to port side, revealing a large gash in her starboard side which let in seawater as each and every gentle wave rolled over the coral. The deck was a mess, most of her portholes were smashed, the mast was splintered in two and the sail lay in tatters over the side where it caught on the sharp coral.
~~~~~
“Jake!” Van cried out, his arm outstretched and his face twisted in fear as the boat rolled violently, pitching him overboard into the darkness of the turbulent storm.
Jake stumbled across the deck to stand unsteadily at the spot where Van had disappeared. His hands white-knuckled the metal railing as he stared out into the night, trying to spot the familiar blonde head.
“Van!” he yelled in panic but a sudden gust of wind carried the sound of his voice away.
He called the blonde’s name again and again, not caring that the rain and wind were buffeting his face. He hoped that somehow Van would hear his voice out there in the darkness and be able to swim back to the boat.
“Van!”
This was hopeless!
Jake could see nothing; the brief flashes of lightning zigzagging across the sky didn’t last long enough to be of any real help.
He knew he should get to the radio to try to raise some help but he couldn’t bring himself to release his hold on the railing and step away from the side. He couldn’t leave Van out there alone if there was the slightest chance the man could hear his voice.
Jake’s head snapped up and he turned on the spot when he heard a sudden noise from behind him above the sound of the crashing waves and the howling wind.
Part of the rigging that held the mast in place had broken free and was swinging wildly in Jake’s direction. He tried to side-step out of the way but the boat rolled violently again, making him lurch unsteadily straight into its path.
His last thought was of Van before the rigging struck him and total blackness descended.
~~~~~
Van! He had to find the other man. If Jake had been washed up onto the beach then Van could’ve been too.
Jake hung onto that hope as he rose unsteadily to his feet, swallowing down the nausea that accompanied the movement.
“Van! Are you here?” he called out as he looked up and down the beach, hoping to see the blonde lying nearby.
He called again, louder this time, his voice disturbing several birds perched in nearby trees just on the edge of the beach.
But there was no answering call from Van.
Should he try to climb one of the trees for a better view? Or should he walk further up the beach?
In his current state, Jake really didn’t trust himself to climb one of the trees without falling and cracking his head open even further. So he made a decision and started up the beach in an unsteady gait, his bare feet trying to grip the hot sand. It didn’t even occur to him to wonder when he had lost his sneakers. He was far too worried about Van to care.
Wait! What was that?
Jake squinted against the sun’s bright glare, bringing his hand up to shade his eyes.
Could he just make out something lying half-submerged in the surf off in the distance?
“Van?” he yelled as he broke into an unsteady run.
He stumbled repeatedly in the sand but each and every time, he pushed himself back up and carried on running, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
Jake sped up as he got closer and recognized the figure lying face down in the sand; he would know that mass of blonde hair anywhere.
“Van. Thank fuck!” He dropped to his knees beside his friend, trying to ignore the growing panic that Van wasn’t moving.
Jake grabbed the palm frond covering Van’s legs, throwing it clear, before grasping the broad shoulders and turning the man onto his back.
“Shit!” he exclaimed when he saw the deep gash in Van’s side, the blood staining his powder blue vest a deep red.
Scanning up the length of Van’s body, Jake was horrified to see his skin had a pallid appearance and his lips had a blue tinge to them.
“Come on, Van! Don’t do this!” Jake urged desperately as he rubbed at the side of the blonde’s face, trying to get a reaction.
Nothing! No flicker of an eyelid or the rise and fall of his chest.
Dammit!
Van couldn’t die like this! Not here, not now. Jake hadn’t even had the chance to tell him how he really felt - to tell the man that he wanted them to be more than just good friends.
Why had he let Van go to L.A. without telling him the truth? That all those close and intimate moments on the show had driven him crazy because he’d wanted it to be them - Van and Jake - not Luke and Noah.
But when Van had come back East, Jake had seen his opportunity. He’d needed a little downtime between the play ending and the start of filming The Revival and Van looked like he could do with a little time away; he seemed to be finding it hard to slip back into New York life. So Jake had suggested a little island-hopping cruise, quickly re-assuring Van, when he’d seen the expression on the other man’s face, that the South Pacific Ocean would be as calm as a millpond this time of year. And, with Jake skippering the boat and with no strict schedule to keep to, if Van got bored of the ocean going life they could hole up on one of the islands and just soak up the sun.
Jake had intended to tell Van how he felt about him out here in this stunning part of the world.
But now he wouldn’t even get the chance.
This was all his fault, dammit! Who was he to think he was experienced enough to sail around these islands?
“No! I’m not letting you do this, Van!” Jake spoke with single-minded determination. This was not happening! He wasn’t going to get help from anyone else anytime soon, so it was up to him.
There was nothing else for it; he would have to start CPR.
But which way was it? Was it airway, breathing and chest or chest, airway and breathing? Jake was pretty sure he remembered reading somewhere about it changing, but which way?
“Oh fuck it!” Jake made a split decision; wasting time wasn’t going to help Van and it wasn’t as if he could make it any worse, could he?
He shifted in the sand to position himself by Van’s side and placed the heel of his left hand in the center of Van’s chest before placing his other hand on top and interlocking the fingers.
Taking a deep breath, Jake started pushing down hard on Van’s chest. He tried to ignore the popping and cracking he could feel beneath his hand as he began the compressions. He hoped to God he wasn’t breaking ribs or something.
He would have felt vaguely ridiculous timing his compressions to the beat of Stayin’ Alive playing in his head if he hadn’t been more worried for Van. With each compression, Jake carefully watched the blonde’s face for any sign of life; a twitch of the lips or a flutter of an eyelid.
Still nothing!
Jake stopped the compressions; they obviously weren’t working.
Now what?
“Airway!” Jake muttered to himself. “Keep your shit together, Jake.”
He scooted closer to Van’s head and wiped his shaking hands on his khaki cargo shorts. He held Van’s mouth open with one hand and probed inside the cavity with the index finger of the other to make sure there was no obstruction or debris.
“Seems OK,” Jake murmured to himself. Talking to himself like this seemed to be helping him concentrate and stopped him from freaking out completely.
He gently grasped Van’s head and tilted it back in the sand before he pinched the man’s nose between his thumb and forefinger. Forming a seal over Van’s mouth with his own, Jake tried to ignore just how cold the skin felt against his as he blew a shaky breath into Van.
Jake paused to see if there was any response. Nothing! He’d try one more breath before starting compressions again.
When the second breath still had no effect, Jake moved back to Van’s chest and interlocked his hands again. “Come the fuck on, Van!! You can’t leave me here on my own, dammit! I’m gonna miss those smart-ass wisecracks of yours.”
He was really beginning to panic now.
Suddenly, Jake heard and felt a gurgling spasm rising in Van’s chest beneath his hand. He stopped the compressions just as Van started to cough and heave violently, a mixture of seawater and vomit spilling from his mouth.
Jake reacted quickly to move Van onto his side so he didn’t choke. He was horrified to see just how much liquid the man was coughing up.
“Easy, Van. You’re OK,” Jake reassured with relief as his hand automatically came up to rub soothing circles on Van’s back, his other hand resting lightly on his hip. Jake couldn’t seem to stop touching Van… he didn’t want to.
When the heaving finally subsided, Van turned to squint up at him and Jake could see the green-flecked hazel was wet from the effort of coughing.
“What… what happened to you?” Van managed, his voice sounding sand-paper rough as he reached up feebly and touched Jake’s forehead just below cut.
“What happened to me?” Jake shook his head incredulously. “What happened to you?”
“I… I don’t know. I can’t remember much after falling overboard. Just being rolled over and over by the waves… and struggling to breathe.” He started to sit up and a flash of pain shot across his face. “Shit! That hurts!” he exclaimed as his hand went straight to his side.
“Here.” Jake helped him sit up before tearing another cleanish strip off the bottom of his shirt and pressing it over the wound.
He scooted around in the sand to sit behind Van, pulling him gently back against his chest to support him upright.
Another bout of coughing racked the man’s body and Jake brought his hand up between them to rub soothing circles over his back again.
When the coughing subsided, Van began to shiver uncontrollably.
“Cold?” Jake asked as he pulled his friend further back against him.
“Yeah,” Van replied through clenched teeth as he tried to control his shaking.
Jake pressed his chest further into Van’s back and hooked his chin over the man’s shoulder. A thought flared at the back of his mind that, in other circumstances, sitting on a deserted beach with Van snug against his chest could be very romantic and all kinds of hot. That excited Jake and made him nervous all at once and he had to swallow hard.
“Better?” he asked as he circled his arm around Van’s chest - careful of the wound in his side - and wrapped his legs tight against Van’s. He hoped it was just the cold Van was suffering from and that shock wasn’t setting in. He wished he had a blanket or something to keep the other man warm but everything they needed was out on that boat and they only had the clothes on their backs.
“A little, thanks.” Van’s voice sounded a little steadier as his hand came up to pat the back of Jake’s hand where it rested on his chest.
Jake was relieved to feel that Van’s skin was warmer now and, for a moment, he let himself focus on how Van’s hand felt on his.
He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the warmth and the closeness… relieved that they were both alive.
Should he tell Van right now how he felt about him? He’d wasted enough time already. How would Van react when he realized Jake had wanted him for so long now?
The feel of Van shuddering against his chest broke through his thoughts.
Thinking Van was getting cold again, Jake started to rub the blonde’s chest… until he realized Van was laughing.
Seriously?! He was laughing?!
“What the hell is so funny, Hansis?” Jake asked incredulously. “You’re lucky to be alive. We have been blown off course and are stranded on an island in the middle of fuck knows where. Everything we need - including any means of getting help - is out there on that boat which is taking on water and could sink at any moment. And that has you laughing?”
“I know… I know,” Van gasped, trying to control his laughter. “Shit, that hurts!” His hand moved to the makeshift bandage covering his wound.
“I know I shouldn’t be laughing and I’m sorry. It’s just I kinda got to thinking that maybe I should have taken you up on that offer to jump out of a plane with you. It would have been less dangerous than sailing around the South Pacific with you!”
“Asshole!” Jake retorted and nudged Van with his shoulder.
But he couldn’t help chuckling too; Van’s laugh was infectious.
After several moments, however, Jake’s laughter died away and the smile faded on his lips as he was hit by the realization of just how serious their situation was.
He had no idea how they were going to get out of this mess.
Chapter 2