Rock Island

By Esteban Navarro Soriano

A plane crashes at an undetermined location on the coast of Indonesia. The only four survivors take shelter on a small desert island until rescue teams arrive. While they wait, strange events begin to occur that make the castaways suspect that they are not alone and that there is someone else there besides them. Everything gets complicated when they decide to take refuge in a damaged boat that has run aground on the reef and a species of giant walrus prevents anyone from getting close.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Oct 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667464961

Book preview

Chapter 1

I remember a female voice asking me for the time. I turned to respond, and it was the first time I saw her. At that moment, it was ten o'clock on the night of the third Friday in November, exactly six weeks after I had decided to travel to Ho Chi Minh.

Yes, of course, I stammered with some nervousness. It's four minutes to ten, I told her, offering a barely noticeable smile.

Are you going to Vietnam too? she asked me.

The girl had a look that was part curious and part cynical, as if she were surprised to see me at the station and, at the same time, mocking me. I remembered that the same question, word for word, had been asked of me by my mother when I told her about the trip a few weeks earlier.

Mom, I'm going on a trip.

A trip? Where to, son?

To Vietnam.

Are you going to Vietnam too?

My mother always began a question by using too as if she already knew someone who had done the same as you. I think my mother couldn't stand me being the first to do anything, so there always had to be someone before me.

Yes, I replied to the girl. I'm going to Vietnam.

From that station, trains departed in two opposite directions: one to the French border and the other to the airport. In the second option, that of the airport, there were flights to many cities. I was heading to Madrid because from there, that night, there was a direct flight to Ho Chi Minh. A twenty-seven-hour flight. But that girl asked me if I was going to Vietnam. How on earth could she know that?

What a coincidence, she commented, clicking her tongue with flair. I'm going there too.

She smiled, and her face lit up. That's when I got to see how beautiful she was. I was struck by her choice of wearing shorts when the cold in the station was unbearable. But I didn't mind because the girl had truly beautiful legs. The same went for her denim jacket that made no sense in November. Those slimming Martens boots, the thin T-shirt that hinted at the two nipples on her chest.

How do you know? I asked her.

Know what?

That I'm going to Vietnam too.

Your ticket, she said, pointing to my hand. I know because of the ticket. She then held hers above her head and stuck it on her forehead as if it were a visor.

Then I looked at my hands, stained blue from the ticket I held between my fingers. I was clutching it between my thumb and index finger, trying in vain to control my nerves. Even the sweat from my hands soaked the black numbers and smudged them. How foolish, I told myself. She knew my destination was Vietnam because tickets as blue as mine were for international destinations.

The one for zero hours and forty-five minutes? I asked.

The same, she nodded.

The public address system warned that the train to Barcelona airport was about to depart. Several passengers hurried to grab their luggage and formed a line in front of a yellow line marking the safety boundary. I noticed that, just like me, she was carrying only a carry-on bag. Quite a small load for such a long journey, I thought.

In a little over two hours, we'll be aboard the plane, she shouted so I could hear her over the noise of passengers boarding the train.

If everything goes well, yes.

You haven't told me your name, she shouted before getting on the train.

Javier. And yours?

Sonia.

And her figure vanished into the interior of the carriage, as if she were a ghost fading at dawn.

Chapter 2

Already at the airport, I observed how a black taxi, with yellow doors and trunk, stopped at the main entrance. The passenger was an elderly man, around seventy-five years old. He was thin and dressed elegantly in a tailored suit, and he was the proud owner of a neatly kept gray beard. He had only a very dark handbag with silver buckles.

When he reached the travel agency counter, he said to a young, rosy-cheeked girl, I have a reservation for the flight at zero hours and forty-five minutes.

Upon hearing this, I knew that this man would be traveling to Madrid on the same plane as Sonia and me.

The girl typed on the computer, dissipating the screensaver. Your name? she asked with an effusive smile.

Blas. I made the reservation two days ago through an agency.

The girl nodded. You'll have to make a stopover in Madrid first, and from there, a flight to Ho Chi Minh. There are no direct flights on the weekend, she explained sweetly.

I know.

Will you be checking luggage?

No.

The receptionist continued typing on the computer, and within a few seconds, the printer spat out a page which she folded and handed to him immediately. Have a good trip, sir.

The man sat on a bench located almost in front of the travel agency and very close to where I was sitting. At that hour, there weren't many people in the terminal, and he chose one that was occupied only by an elderly woman, at least eighty years old, who clung to an old-fashioned suitcase between her legs. The woman had completely white hair and dressed in dark clothing. The most striking feature was a large pearly cross hanging from her chest with a thick silver chain.

Are you going to Vietnam too? the elderly woman asked.

Yes, at this hour, there's only this flight, the bearded man responded, without much enthusiasm.

Then he moved slightly, indicating that he didn't want to continue the conversation.

I looked at a advertising board in front of us and saw our reflection: an elderly woman who looked like she was in mourning, an elderly man, judging by the wrinkles on his face, although the guy looked agile and in good physical shape, and a young man, me, who still wondered if traveling to Ho Chi Minh was a good idea. But after a horrible year, I decided to invest the money from my severance package from the courier company in an adventurous trip. I needed it. I needed to escape. I needed to forget everything, even myself.

Sonia was browsing through magazines at the newsstand, picking them up and putting them back. The girl was quite attractive. And she knew it. Because otherwise, why would she be wearing those mini shorts in the middle of winter, I wondered.

The plane will take me to Madrid, and from there, I'll make a connecting flight, the elderly woman continued, oblivious to the man's gesture of disdain as he sat down next to her.

There are no direct flights from here on the weekend, he replied, irritated.

I'm a bit nervous; it's the first time I've been on a plane, and I'm scared.

That's understandable.

You seem very calm.

Because it's not my first time on a plane.

Was your first time as nervous as I am?

He didn't respond. I understood that he wanted the woman to realize he had no interest in her conversation. I also sensed that she was looking to talk on any pretext. I guess neither he nor I believed that an eighty-year-old grandmother had ever been on a plane.

I'm going to visit my son who lives in Ho Chi Minh, the elderly woman continued. The man took a book from his bag.

That's a way to make the time pass, she said, looking at the book.

Our flight is still a while away, he replied.

I've always liked detective novels, the woman added as she ran a finger under her eye. But unfortunately, I've lost a lot of my eyesight in recent years and can't read like I used to.

Don't you wear glasses?

I should, but I haven't gotten used to them yet.

The elderly woman stared at her conversation partner with curiosity.

Are you a police officer?

He smiled, displaying teeth so bright that there was no doubt they were dentures.

Why do you ask that?

I don't know, you told me you read detective novels, so I thought you might be one.

Well, no, ma'am, he replied, irritated. Reading detective novels doesn't make you a police officer.

I understand.

I realized that the man started to look around to find a place where he could escape the harassment of the elderly woman, who had become unbearable.

Well, ma'am, I'll leave you in peace because I need to use the restroom, he said, picking up his book and carry-on bag.

He got up, leaving the elderly woman alone on the bench

Chapter 3

While waiting at the airport, fiddling with my mobile phone, I contemplated the good bearing of the man who had left that elderly lady open-mouthed. His wrinkles convinced me he was well past seventy, but he looked younger. I saw my own reflection again through the advertising glass, and I wasn't someone particularly attractive to women. Partially bald, with prominent receding hairlines, a belly I could never get rid of, and a plain face. My height and bulk surpassed six feet, with large arms and massive shoulders. My only advantage was my age: thirty years. But youth and strength don't necessarily make someone attractive.

How's it going? Sonia asked me, appearing behind me.

Here, waiting.

Do you know anyone in Ho Chi Minh?

No.

And where are you going to stay?

A friend told me you can rent an apartment for next to nothing over there.

Yes. That's what I was told the other times I traveled there, and I can assure you it's not true.

Sonia looked younger than me, perhaps a couple of years. I was surprised that she was traveling alone.

You're probably wondering why I'm traveling alone, she said as if she had read my mind. In reality, I planned this trip with a friend, but at the last moment, her mother fell seriously ill, and she chose to stay and keep her company. Since there was nothing I could do for her, I decided to go ahead.

I don't think Sonia was even five feet tall, but she was slender, and her silhouette was artistic. She had very deep eyes that made it difficult for me to look directly at her when we talked. Her short black hair, almost like a young guy in the military, stood out. What I found most challenging was not to look at her exposed golden navel piercing.

Have you been to Ho Chi Minh before? she asked after my prolonged silence.

No, it's my first time.

There's always a first time, she said. I've been there several times. Each time better than the last. I have very fond memories of the place, and that's why I keep coming back.

She crossed her legs, revealing gleaming ankles. When I lifted my gaze, looking for a point of defocus to distract me from her legs, I locked eyes with the elderly lady, who couldn't take her eyes off us.

Chapter 4

Sonia invited me to have a coffee at the airport bar. Through the large windows, we could see the grandparents engaged in animated conversation.

They make a good couple, she told me.

They're not a couple, I contradicted.

How do you know?

Because I was sitting next to him when they met. In fact, he can't stand her and switched seats to avoid talking to her.

Well, they're together now, she smiled.

Sonia excused herself to go to the restroom, and I remained entranced, listening to the elderly pair. At that moment, I learned their names: Blas and Marta because they introduced themselves. Blas stared at Sonia's behind as she crossed the lobby, and Marta, with a cheerful tone, asked him, Aren't you one of those old men who go crazy for young girls?

He was taken aback, but he didn't feel offended at any moment. Excuse me; I was merely admiring that girl's beauty.

They both laughed, and to me, they seemed like a pair of simpletons.

When Sonia returned from the restroom, she asked for my ticket number.

Why? I inquired.

To see if we're traveling together.

I pulled my ticket from my jacket pocket and