The Island, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It was lunchtime by the time I made it back to camp. Our beach community was taking shape, with a couple of shelters started, including one for the “infirmary”, a fire pit complete with a ring of airplane seats around it, and a couple of piles of salvaged gear. Our food was being stored in some of the suitcases to keep the animals out. Several groups of people had made individual campsites scattered along the quarter-mile stretch of sand upon which we had the good fortune to wind up.

Our beach was protected by the reef, which enclosed a decent lagoon of perhaps 200 yards across, with a single passage through the coral to the open ocean. The inland side of the sand was fringed by palm trees which gradually merged with the dense jungle. To the north rocky cliffs tumbled down from the inland heights and met with the reef at the water. To the south, the beach stretched to the small rocky outcrop behind which the stream emptied into the ocean. Beyond that was more beach, with heavier surf as the reef seemed to be less continuous beyond our lagoon. The island itself appeared to consist of two peaks connected by a central lowland, sort of a saddle-shape. The northern end was rocky, the southern peak veiled in clouds and mist at present.

Sharon and Rodney had managed to inflate the life raft, so we had our own fishing fleet of one. I noted several passengers combing the tide pools for edible critters. I began to feel a little guilty wasting the morning in carnal pleasure, but then again maybe I could be considered the morale officer? I decided to do something useful and check up on our one prisoner. 50 yards north from the fire pit, which marked the approximate center of our settlement, was a finger of vegetation that projected out into the sand. Within this shaded area sat our friendly neighborhood terrorist. She was still in her burka, tied to a tree with both hands bound together with cord. It was hard to tell with her body and half her face covered with black cloth, but she seemed to be about 25 or so. She had the typical light brown complexion of her people, with a few strands of black hair trailing from under the head covering. She sat silently in the shade, studiously ignoring the activity around her. I approached warily, recalling our last meeting, which had included facial scratches, a head-butting incident, and several deaths, ultimately.

“I am a doctor,” I said to her. “Do you have any injuries you need treated?” I wasn’t sure what we were going to do with her, but I figured I would try to behave in a civilized manner. Maybe we would have some sort of trial? It turned out my civility was for naught.

“You infidel pig!” she snarled at me. “I would not accept your help if I were dying. You have prevented us from carrying out Allah’s plan.”

“If Allah is so great, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need the help of a bunch of homicidal maniacs in black robes to get the job done,” I said wryly. “He can probably handle things on his own.”

“You know nothing, dog. You should martyr me now. If you keep me alive I will swear I will do everything in my power to hurt you.”

Talk about your noncompliant patients! “Fine,” I said. “Have it your way. I’ll bring you another cup of water later.” I walked away, shaking my head.

I headed into the trees at the extreme north end of the beach to take a leak. I had my dick out and in hand, whizzing away, when I spied a flash of color near the ground in front of me. About 20 feet ahead, amongst the trees, a flash of skin shone beneath a pink shirt. I couldn’t see who it was since her face was downturned, but it seemed to be a young woman, squatting down. I wasn’t sure if it was one of the field hockey players, one of the cheerleaders, or one of the my own students. I stood motionless, and was rewarded by the sight of a stream of piss shooting out from between the crouching legs. The golden jet foamed as it hit the forest floor, and I could hear the wet spattering noise it made over the muted roar of the surf on the other side of the beach and my own flow of urine.

She looked up slightly, and I recognized one of the cheerleaders. I couldn’t remember her name (Natalie? Kaitlyn?) but she was a skinny blonde thing. Her shirt covered half her body, so I couldn’t see much of her figure, but her twat was on display and it was a lovely sight. I couldn’t say whether she was a natural blonde or not, since her pussy was shaved smooth and hairless. Her narrow pink lips were spread wide, and the thin inner labia were now bisected by the yellow trickle emanating from their center.
She suddenly looked at me, possibly in response to the noise my whizzing was making, or some instinct that she was not alone, and stared straight at me. I was standing there cock in hand, my mouth half open, not quite knowing what to do. The stray thought passed through my brain: At least you’re still peeing so she doesn’t think you’re jerking off while spying on her.