April 8, 2008

My name is Justin Taylor. I'm from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where I worked for Graphic Fallout as a graphic design department head. From here until we are rescued, this sketch book is going to serve as my journal so that I might mark exactly what happens while the group is stuck on the island. I pray that I won't be writing in it long. (On account of being rescued, of course.)

Here with me is my assistant and friend, Rory Bankhead (no relation to Tallulah), Brian Kinney, partner in Vanguard Advertising Inc. Also Cynthia Cramer, Brian's assistant and Neil Toller, the pilot of the plane.

Rory suggested I do the whole ‘How we got here' story. I think that's boring, but I'll give you the short of it.

Four days ago, while en route to Paris, France, we experienced a bit of turbulence. The private jet, belonging to the La Belle corporation, lost power and the engines died. The next thing any of us can recall is waking up to find that we had landed deep in the jungle of an island. We're not sure where the island is but I suspect Neil might eventually remember coordinates or something.

We've made a small, temporary shelter in a small cave that isn't far from the crash site, since we didn't want to stray too far, should someone locate us by the wreckage. Tonight we actually made something of a democratic decision to build a shelter closer to the beach. Not quite sure when we're planning to do that, but the sooner the better. This cave is beginning to creep me out. I keep hearing odd noises at night. (Probably the rat that keeps trying to molest Cynthia. Ha! I know it's not funny...but it SO is!)

***

April 9, 2008

Well...we've done it. We're in trouble!

It all began this morning, when I asked Brian to take me to the beach. I can almost hear myself say that as if it were going to be some mini-vacation. But really - I only wanted to see it. Try to figure out where we might build a shelter. Find out a little more about our new environment. Personally I don't think that's too much to ask. Brian wouldn't even listen to reason. I guess he figures that I broke my arm so I get to be an invalid or something? I don't know! And although I have the extra time now - analyzing Brian is not going to be my main source of entertainment.

Anyway, while Brian was busy sharpening the utility knife he found on the plane and Rory was playing nursemaid to Neil, Cynthia pulled me aside and played her favorite role - Devil's advocate. She offered to take me to the beach. I say offered, but it was more like she decided she wanted to go too so she figured we could make a break for it together. It never occurred to me to say no.

Getting there was simple enough. Brian and Rory had tacked up torn strips of clothing to mark the path when they had gone earlier in the week, so all we had to do was follow those. Well...follow those and keep an eye out for wild animals (as if there would be some other kind) and fight our way through the vines and greenery. No problem. As soon as I set eyes on that beach...I can't even explain it. It was breathtaking. The sand was so white and perfect. The water was so clear and I could see fish swimming everywhere! All sorts of colors and kinds of fish. As soon as my arm is better, I am so gonna go diving! As it was though, we settled for a quick wash, just to get rid of the top layer of dirt. It's amazing how much dirt and dust can collect on a person's skin in just a few short days.

I did notice that the edge of the trees begins pretty far back from the water. I'm almost positive that I saw a cluster of trees that might just support some sort of shelter. While I was busy checking out the water and fish and trees, Cynthia stripped down to her underwear and sprawled out on the sand so she could soak up a little sun.

I was beyond thrilled to see the sun again too. It's hot as hell all over the island but in the trees, we're completely sheltered from the sun. The thick foliage covers us from all angles and even though some of the light filters down, it's not nearly enough to make things truly bright and cheery - which is exactly what we need right now.

After a while - probably an hour or so - Cynthia and I decided to face the music and head back to ‘base camp'. Though I must say we walked back with a bit more spring in our step. Brian was so far beyond mad...I can't believe his head is still in one piece. I was sure it was going to explode! The little vein in his forehead even made an appearance. That means he was really stressing. I almost felt bad for making him worry. (ALMOST!) But at the same time, it isn't his place to worry about me OR Cynthia.

Later on, after he had reamed us out for acting stupidly, for not telling anyone where we were going, for not taking any fresh water or supplies just in case, I found him sitting on one of the higher rock formations that surrounds the cave. He looked so upset, even from a distance, that I had to talk to him. Make things right. Usually I would have left him to his own devices, letting him work things out in his own way like he preferred to. But here...no booze, no boys, no bumps...he was without his coping tools and I took it upon myself to guide him through the tenuous first steps of sober pain management.

I couldn't tell you what we said word for word. We were quiet for a long time, just sitting side by side in silence. And then he asked me why I went. I answered his question with one of my own. Why didn't he WANT me to go? He couldn't give me a straight answer - nothing new there - but he did leave me with another question. "Now that you've seen the edge of the ocean - now that you've seen our future...how do you feel?"

The question has been bothering me all night. I mean...being on the beach was wonderful! It was beautiful and thrilling and soul-warming! What was so bad about that? I don't know how to answer that question but now that I look back on the conversation, I think maybe Brian was asking himself more than he was asking me. But...yeah...I'm not gonna analyze it. I'm not!