Kathy smiled. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why not? I saw some giant crabs on the beach as we approached, and that forest is nothing but coconut palms. What do you say to a crab feast? And we can drink fresh coconut water, straight from the nut.”

He had a point—fresh-cooked crab was infinitely better than anything they had in the galley.

Kathy wrapped her arms around him. “Let me get this straight. You think a fancy crab dinner will make a girl forget that you stranded us on some deserted island?”

He grinned. “Well…”

“Oh, bite your tongue.” Kathy smacked him playfully on his chest. “I’ll grab a pot and a fire starter for the crab boil. You grab the axe for the coconuts.”

###

Kathy propped herself up on her elbows as she lay on the sandy beach and inhaled the scent of the ocean. Next to her, Brad was busy trying to build a fire, but so far had only managed to envelop himself in a large cloud of white smoke.

She was about to crack a joke when suddenly the orange licks of flames burst forth from the pile of wood. Brad leaned back from the growing fire with a satisfied expression. As the blaze grew ever larger, he hopped to his feet—and winced.

“Brad, are you sure you’re okay? Your ankle is really swollen.”

“I’m fine. Just sit back and relax. I’ll get the water boiling and we’ll have some crab in no time.”

While Brad set the water to boiling, Kathy panned her gaze across the beach. It was dotted with No Trespassing signs, written in several languages, but she was more concerned with the woven mess of broken branches, seaweed, and other debris covering the shoreline. Though he’d tried to hide it, Brad had limped a bit on the walk here, and now his ankle was getting worse.

The boulder-strewn western edge of the island was made nearly impassable with all of the storm’s detritus pockmarking the beach. Kathy worried about how Brad’s ankle would handle the walk back to the boat.

She sighed as Brad tossed a handful of spices into the now-steaming water and knew he’d never admit when he was in pain.

As Kathy breathed in the scent of the Old Bay seasoning coming up from the boiling water, something didn’t seem quite right about their surroundings. The ocean was calm, and the breeze had become almost nonexistent, yet something felt… off.

The sounds.

It dawned on her that she hadn’t heard the cry of a seagull, or of any other kind of bird, since arriving at the island. Not one.

A shroud of silence wrapped tightly around them as she sat up and stared at the nearby forest of palms. “Honey, where do you think all the birds are?”