Red Sand by Ronan Cray Page B

the stress, or perhaps because of it, her thoughts were carnal in nature. She liked having Carter next to her. She wanted to feel his warmth tonight. She wanted him to remind her she was still alive.
    “He should have received a burial.” Mason stalked around the edge of the fire pit, unable to sit down. “Or last rights, or something. Was he Catholic?”
    “I think he was Jewish,” Lauren pitched in, though she wasn’t sure. “I don’t know what they do.”
    “A rock at the gravesite,” Carter added. “I’ve heard.”
    “That’s good enough for me.” Mason bent down to pick up one of the omnipresent lumps of black volcanic rock lying in the camp. “For Max,” he said, placing it ceremoniously near the fire.
    Each of them found a rock and placed it on the pile. “For Max,” they said.
    Lauren found it more pagan than religious, but it felt good to do something, anything. Somewhere in the darkness, Max’s body lay cut up and decaying in a garbage heap. If she died here… it was too horrible to contemplate. She had to know that someone would remember; that there would be something left behind. Even a heap of stones beat nothing at all.
    This pile of stones wasn’t for Max, it was for themselves.
    His job done, Mason sat down at the fire next to the woman named Amy. It was the same woman he’d offered a napkin to the night before. She seemed to gravitate toward him whenever they assembled.
    “I don’t like it here,” Emily said, hugging her knees.
    “I agree.” Lauren couldn’t stand it. She had to get off this island.  
    They fell into a mutual silence, almost a prayer. Lauren’s hand sought Carter’s. When she put her hand in his, he didn’t pull away, though his eyes did not waver from the fire.
    “Max’s death isn’t the only thing odd on this island,” Carter said, breaking the silence. “Did you see how Paul didn’t go past the gate? What’s up with that?”
    “I didn’t notice,” Lauren said when no one else pitched in.
    “In fact, I don’t think I ever saw Paul inside the Wall. Did any of you?”
    No one nodded their head or seemed to understand where he was going with the discussion.
    Carter sat silent for a moment, then said, “Paul is the only one who doesn’t have white hair.”
    The discussion moved on. Mason asked Amy what her task had been that day.
    “We were assigned to fishing. We caught fish in the bay and loaded them into baskets filled with salt. They preserve them that way.”
    “That doesn’t sound too bad.”
    “It was bad. The waves push you up against sharp rocks. The fish we caught had spines. Just before we waded in to get the nets, they told us about all the dangerous fish in the water – blowfish, jellyfish, sharks, anemones, and some kind of venomous snail. Then they sent us in anyway.”
    “Nice.”
    Someone else joined in. “That sounds better than our task. We were stuck in the salt pools. The sun fried us all day. The water acts as a mirror, so now I’m sunburned even under my chin.” He tried to show them, but it was indiscernible in the firelight. “The sun reflected right up my shorts to burn places the sun’s never seen.” Some people laughed. “You don’t believe me? Look!” He stood up.
    Everyone held up their hands. “No, no, that’s all right.”
    “Anyway, I’m so glad we’re rotating tomorrow.”
    “Don’t be. We were working with manure all day,” Mason said.
    “And worse,” Emily added. Silence fell again.
    Lauren grew weary of the discussion. She wanted to be alone with Carter. She whispered in his ear, “Let’s go somewhere private.”
    She pulled his hand and stole out into the shadows.
    The moon came out in full, almost as bright as day. Before them, the shore glowed in a surreal blue light. In the distance, waves crashed over the reef in phosphorescent splendor. Behind each dune lay a darkness as deep as the universe. They walked the path toward the beach in silence, hand in hand. She stole meaningful