Caleb sat alone on the shore of the beach. He had spoken to no one since he had been found. He drank water and ate some fruit, and his fever had lowered. He stared out at the ocean with glazed eyes, staring out at the unmoving horizon.
His heart felt empty. Where was this place? Why had no one come? He had vague memories of an airport, a flight, but his memories were in tatters beyond that. His life, everything, it was as if it had been erased, with only patches left alone here and there. He felt empty, hollow, like a shell of a man. His mind was alive, churning, working hard, but everything was gone. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He needed to find out what this place was.
He rose at last, brushing the sand off from his still wet jeans. Reached down her lifted his leg. It was still there. He unbuckled the long hunting knife he had found on the beach earlier and unstead looped it about his waist, pulling it tight.
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