Track 1: Sailing: Christopher Cross
Well, it’s not far down to paradise, at least it’s not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away and find tranquility
Oh, the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see.
Believe me. - Christopher Cross: Sailing
Raven Keens’ long, jet black hair lapped up the afternoon sun. Five years ago it would have been blistering to her naturally porcelain complexion, but daily ultraviolet assaults had Caribbeanized her twenty four year old skin.
Her bare legs and feet were comfortably crossed in the sand where she sat. Her nail-bitten fingertips gently caressed the thin bands of scar tissue that circled around each wrist. And she watched a cruise ship pass lazily across the horizon.
She kept what clothes she had clean, which mostly consisted of cut off jean shorts, t-shirts and rain gear. There was plenty of soap, means to start a fire and purify water, a solar panel for minimal power, and an iPod that held thousands of songs.
She burned a lot of the hours combing the beach for shells to decorate her hut and craft jewelry, attempting to enhance her lethargic existence here. Her thoughts were mostly about Kyle with a realization that he had probably moved on. Married maybe. A house somewhere in the upper peninsula of Michigan like he always wanted.
She had been over the entire island many times. It was small, twenty or so square miles she figured, and included a deep cave lined with natural gold deposits. She only went in once, and it nearly killed her so she stayed a safe distance from it.
Raven was also very familiar with the fact that she was the only living entity save the exquisite flora display and one Turquoise-browed Mot Mot. The green-blue medium-sized bird lived near her hut and it had become a ritual every morning to sit and watch it wag it’s weird Dr. Seuss like tail. Then she would make the short trek to the ocean where she would look for ships.
Everyday.
The ocean liner was nearly out of sight when the familiar, whoop-whoop of a helicopter, invaded her consciousness.
She closed her eyes and sighed as sand tornadoed around her from the landing chopper.
A well-dressed man got out, flanked by two soldiers brandishing automatic weapons and carrying a large chromed box. They sat it down and cautiously approached her from behind.
“Hello, Raven.”
“Hello, John.”
“You got the food drop well enough this time?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Let’s go then. And please don’t try anything. Because you know-“
“I know John.” She stood and faced him.
He reached into his inside jacket pocket and retrieved a pen-sized device. Inserted it into a hole in the side of the box which opened at once. A blue gel-like substance flowed up from it like a reverse waterfall and expanded into a door size wall.
Raven extended her arms and winced in pain as golden handcuffs were clasped around her wrists.
They then walked through the gel and into another place.
