On the eighteenth day, the wreckage of the ship

The torrential rain finally stopped. The preparations I’d made yesterday were not in vain—my little cabin hadn’t leaked at all.

Last night, I had a dream, one that seemed to last forever. It felt as though I’d been dreaming it my whole life.

In the dream, a great ship approached through the storm. A group of people brought me aboard and took me back with them. I became famous—interviews, television appearances, a steady flow of money, beautiful women, luxury cars, all gravitated toward me. Just as I was reveling in it, I woke up.

I decided to take a look at the beach; I seemed to have really seen a light there last night.

Little Black was nowhere to be seen. I guessed it had gone to its former owner’s place. Ever since I buried its previous owner’s remains, it hadn’t been back there, but perhaps last night’s storm had made it anxious, so it set out early in the morning to check.

Without thinking much of it, I made my way toward the sea.

The ground was muddy and treacherous after the night’s deluge; the going was slow and difficult. It took a long time before I finally reached the shore.

By the seaside, all was peaceful. Apart from the crashing of waves, there wasn’t another sound.

I walked along the beach. There was no sign of the storm, save for the slightly muddied water lapping at the shore.

As I neared the end of the stretch of sand, I was stunned by the massive object lying against the rocks at the farthest point.

My breath grew heavy, and goosebumps prickled my skin…

It was a ship—a wrecked one.

A huge hole gaped open in one side of the hull.

There it lay, stranded on the shore. I supposed the massive waves last night must have heaved it up there. Even if it hadn’t washed up, with a hole that size, it would certainly have sunk to the bottom of the sea.

The vessel was about twenty meters long, and the hole nearly five meters across.

It looked like a fishing boat, or so I thought.

Could there be survivors? I tried calling out a few times, but there was no answer.

I climbed from the rocks onto the side of the ship, which had toppled over.

Everything was in chaos. The deck had split open completely. I picked my way along the jagged edge toward the cabin.

Many things lay scattered about, but even in that disorder, I spotted several useful items at a glance.

Spoons, cups, clothes—so much…

I didn’t hurry to take anything. Instead, I kept searching. I still hoped, perhaps, for survivors.

But, alas, I found none. On the edge of the deck, I discovered a suitcase, locked with a combination. I couldn’t open it.

I thought I could smash it open once I got it back. It would serve both as storage and, perhaps, to catch coconut crabs—a multipurpose tool.

It would take several trips. I decided to carry the suitcase back first.

It was heavy. With great effort, I managed to lift it, scrambled onto the rocks—and slipped. The rocks were slick, and burdened with the case, I lost my balance and fell into a crevice, after which I remembered nothing.

I was awakened by a furious roar.

Honestly, hearing that voice, I was so excited I forgot my pain. I scrambled and crawled, desperate to rush out. At last—finally!—I heard the voice of another human being. I felt as if I’d almost forgotten how to speak.

The moment I poked my head out, I saw them.

Yes, I saw him—tall and strong—and my excitement instantly plummeted into dread.

Because in his hand was a gun—a silver pistol.

I dared not reveal myself. Fear gripped me; I hadn’t expected things to turn out like this.

They were too close. I was terrified of being discovered, or startling them and being shot.

“Where’s the stuff? Where did you hide it? If you don’t tell me, I’ll kill you!” the burly man shouted, leveling his gun at the other.

“I—I don’t know! I just went to get a coconut to drink, I didn’t hide anything!” The speaker was a scrawny man with a sharp voice.

“Don’t give me that crap! I’m telling you, if you don’t hand it over, I’ll blow your brains out.”

Listening to their exchange, I began to speculate about their identities. They certainly weren’t fishermen. Could they be pirates? Criminals? Or…?

I’d imagined I might meet a few fishermen, people I could repair the boat with, and perhaps find a way to escape. I never dreamed that these two men would be the ones I’d encounter.

God, would they really kill each other? What were they searching for?

Could it be…?

I looked back at the suitcase.

Could it be that?

“It really wasn’t me! I never even touched it!” the scrawny man shrieked.

“If you don’t believe me, search me! I never took it!” he protested further.

“Heh, you think I don’t know you after all this time together? You must think that since we’re stranded in this godforsaken place, I wouldn’t care about the stash, so you hid it, planning to take it for yourself when we leave, right?”

“Ever since you started following me, you think I haven’t noticed all the little tricks you’ve pulled? You think I’m stupid? I just kept you around because you were useful! And now you dare pull this? I’ll give you one last chance: will you talk or not?”

The burly man was growing more and more furious, waving his gun as he shouted.

The scrawny man was facing away from me.

I saw his hand slowly, carefully, reaching behind his back, toward his belt.

The burly man didn’t notice; he was too busy raging, convinced the other’s life was already his to take.

But he didn’t realize that the scrawny man had drawn a pistol from his belt as well.

He had one too! I can hardly describe how I felt—terror, fear, dread, uncertainty, all at once. I wanted to warn the burly man, but I knew I could not.

Bang. While I was still agonizing, the big man staggered, swayed, and then crashed to the ground. I clearly saw the hole in his face…

“Forcing me—serves you right, you bastard! You deserved it!” The scrawny man exulted in his victory, venting his hatred.

“Damn it, hiding the stuff yourself, then you wanted to kill me so you could keep it all? Ha! Never expected this, did you? All those years lording it over me, and in the end you die by my hand! Ha ha ha ha!” The scrawny man laughed maniacally, bordering on madness.

I, however, was cold all over, trembling uncontrollably.

What now? He had a gun—sooner or later he would find me!

What should I do?

Panic seized me; I was at a loss. I spiraled into an abyss of terror.

His laughter faded away with his receding footsteps. I didn’t even dare peek out until a long, long time had passed.

At last, I crawled out of the crevice and ran back toward my shelter.

I knew I wouldn’t dare light a fire tonight; I was too afraid he might be drawn to it.

I buried my lighter beneath a conspicuous coconut tree—one of my most precious possessions. I couldn’t risk him finding it…