“I hope so.”

She frowned the way she does when she wants you to know she’s concentrating hard. “What do you think happened to him?”

“He went out in the jungle to take a dump last night, and the local headhunters nailed his ass.”

“Ha ha ha. Very funny. You’re sick if you think that’s funny.”

“Maybe not headhunters,” I said.

“I should think not.”

“Maybe a snake got him. I bet something did. Might’ve been one of those giant spiders I heard about—they’re indigenous to these islands. They have this special venom that turns your blood to acid so you burn up from the inside out.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Really.”

“Get fucked,” she told me, then spun around and walked off toward the water.

“By you?” I asked.

“In your dreams,” she said, not even glancing back.

Not in my dreams, I thought. I didn’t say it, though. I’d already said enough, pretty much.

She went in for a swim, so I built a new fire in the ashes of the old one. When the fire was going good, I fetched my pen and journal and got to work.

The search party still hasn’t returned.

Connie’s been leaving me alone.

After swimming around for a while, she went climbing on the rocks at the point. (Good thing I didn’t leave my journal hidden up mere. She probably would’ve found it and read it, and then I’d be in some real trouble.) Later, she climbed down and swam some more. Then she sprawled out on the sand. She’s acting like I’m somewhere else.

We didn’t exactly have a model relationship before this trip, but it started to really deteriorate as soon as the others entered the picture. I think she considers it a big mistake that she asked me to come along.

Oh, well.

I’m having a good time, mostly, in spite of her.

On the negative side of things, it’s not a good sign that the search party has been gone so long. I’m afraid something bad might’ve happened to Keith.