Surviving the Refuge (Survivalist Reality Show Book 2) Read online

  Fred’s gaze jerked up to hers, and then he grinned. “That is an excellent idea!”

  Regan stared at the buckets. “Why are there buckets filled with rice and beans anyway?”

  Fred smiled. “Because mice can’t get in and neither can other critters. If it floods even a little, the bucket will keep the food dry and safe to eat.”

  “Oh, right—that’s smart.”

  Fred nodded. “Some of the buckets hold actual bags of beans and rice, while the others are lined with big Mylar bags with desiccant bags inside. The grains are poured inside the bag and then sealed inside the bucket. Those are the buckets at the bottom and will be used last. They’ll be fresh for decades.”

  Regan’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  He nodded his head with satisfaction.

  “Okay. But, look, I’m going to get back out to the greenhouse if you don’t need anything else,” she said, noticing Fred was sliding into one of his trance-like states as he looked at the shelves.

  He was already organizing and planning.

  She left the room then, stopping in the kitchen to fill a glass with water from the pitcher kept in the small refrigerator that ran off the propane and solar power; there, she considered her last two options. RC would know what to do about the fish, but he was one person she felt she needed to prove her worthiness to. If he was already in a rotten mood, she didn’t want to press her luck. That left Geno.

  “Crap!” she muttered, ultimately deciding to give the problem one more look before she had to swallow every ounce of pride she had left and ask Geno for help. Geno would love the idea of her asking him for help. He’d probably even get a lot of pleasure over making her beg. That was about the last thing she wanted to do.

  There had to be something she was overlooking. She wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

  7

  “Dammit!” Regan cursed, kicking at the dirt floor by the aquaponics system. It was no use. She had checked everything at least ten times and she still couldn’t find anything that would explain the sick fish.

  It was time to suck it up and ask Geno. She couldn’t wait until that evening when Wolf got back. The fish would probably be dead by then—as it was, she feared she’d waited too long. True, Geno would probably gloat for the next week about Regan needing his help, and it killed her to admit that she did, but she could deal with the man’s cockiness if it meant saving the fish. This was one of those things she had to do for the good of the group. I didn’t matter if the idea of needing his help made her want to puke.

  With this in mind, she walked to the dock and found a shirtless Geno tinkering with the motor boat.

  “Hi,” she said flatly.

  His head popped up, his expression making it clear he was surprised to see her seeking him out. “What?”

  “I thought Wolf was taking the boat to the island?” she asked, motioning to the boat he was working on.

  Geno gave her a withering look. “He couldn’t. It still isn’t running. He had to take the rowboat. I guess it’s a good thing the water is calm today.”

  Regan bit back her frustration at still being accused of breaking the boat. Geno was never going to believe her, so there was no point in arguing.

  “Look, Geno, I was wondering if you could help me out with something?” Her voice had barely been audible over the sound of a seagull screeching overhead and the water moving in and out, lapping against the dock.

  “What?” Geno asked, a look of pure disgust on his face.

  Regan took a deep breath. She’d known it wouldn’t be easy to ask him, and now reminded herself why she’d ventured out to the dock in the first place. It wasn’t about her pride or her needs. It was about doing what was right for the group as a whole. Maybe this was a new way of thinking for her that she’d have to get used to, but she was determined to embrace it.

  “There’s something wrong with one of the tanks,” she said more clearly. “I don’t think it can wait until Wolf gets back. I was wondering if you would take a look at it.”

  Geno was already shaking his head. “Why don’t you ask RC? He knows about that stuff; I don’t.”

  Regan took a deep breath, deciding she’d have to open up like Tabitha was always telling her to do. Still, she couldn’t help looking away as she explained, “I want to show RC that I can do this. He does everything else around here. I need to pull my own weight—and so do you,” she pointed out. “Besides, RC and Fred had a minor disagreement that sounds like it got out of control. I don’t think RC wants to deal with any of us right now.”

  Geno threw down the rag he had been holding, muttering something about Fred under his breath. “I am pulling my weight. I’m fixing this boat that mysteriously got run out of gas,” he snapped. “And RC and I get along just fine.”

  Regan rolled her eyes. “For the last time, Geno, I didn’t do it. Maybe I did something wrong with the aquaponics, I don’t know, but I never touched this boat and now I need your help. I’m honestly afraid the system is in danger of failing. I don’t know what the problem is, but we can’t risk any one of those tanks failing. It’s important to all of us,” she emphasized, seeing that he was finally taking her seriously. “We can’t always be sure we’re going to catch something when we go fishing. We need the fresh vegetables. The garden isn’t suitable for growing anything more than the herbs and stuff Tabitha is planting.”

  Geno dropped the wrench he’d just picked up with an audible sigh. “Fine. I’ll check it out. This was your responsibility, though, Regan. Not mine. If it fails, it’s on you.”

  “Uh, Tabitha is also in charge of the aquaponics. Her ass is on the line, too!” she shot back.

  Geno climbed out of the boat and stepped toward Regan, his bulky body casting a shadow on her as he stood close by. “Right, and I’m doing this for my wife,” he growled, grabbing his shirt off the dock and pulling it on.

  “Whatever gets your butt moving,” Regan snapped, not one to back down from anyone—even a guy as intimidating as Geno. She’d tried coming to him with her proverbial hat in her hands and it hadn’t done anything to soften his temper. There was nothing more she could do.

  He turned and stalked off the dock, climbing the slight hill up to the house with big strides that belied his average-sized legs. Regan scrambled to keep up with him. He pushed through the trees like a bull in a China shop, snapping limbs backwards and nearly taking out Regan’s eye on more than one occasion. She fantasized about taking one of those limbs and hitting him with it. One good whack would be all she needed to feel better.

  “Settle down,” she growled when he threw open the door to the greenhouse, nearly pulling it off the hinges.

  “Show me what you want me to fix so I can get out of here and back to fixing the other stuff that you didn’t break.”

  She ignored the jab. The aquaponics were more important than winning a verbal argument with Geno. Regan pointed to the defunct tank. “That one. The fish are going to die if we don’t fix it. The water is cloudy, but it’s circulating. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

  Geno moved closer and stared at the tank for several long minutes. Regan grew frustrated with his lack of action, but kept her mouth shut. Then, he reached out, running his hand over the air hose going into the water and following its path. Regan wanted to scream that she’d already checked that about a million times, but held her temper and let him work. Maybe, just maybe, she had missed something. She watched as he bent over and reached behind the tank, wondering what it was he was looking at back there considering that the power source for the circulation pump was up, not down.

  “I think this is the problem,” he said, holding up a small black box.

  “What’s that?” she asked with confusion. She’d never seen it before.

  “The filter. You didn’t check the filter?” he asked, disgust on his face.

  “I didn’t know there was a filter,” she admitted, feeling like an idiot.

  Geno opened the lid on the box, pullin
g out a filter that was nearly black. “I’m assuming this is supposed to be white. It’s basically a pool filter. That little hole in the side of the tank is where the filtered water comes in. This hose feeds into the filter,” he said, lifting a hose she had wrongfully assumed fed the aggregate above.

  Without answering, Regan headed for the shelf that held the various supplies needed for the tanks. A quick inspection of the various supplies revealed a cardboard box filled with filters. She pulled out a new one and handed it to Geno, feeling unspeakably foolish. He quickly replaced it, connected the tube, and put it back where it belonged. That done, he helped her adjust the pH, and then they both stood beside the tank, watching the water move as if what they’d done would instantly fix the problem.

  “It’s going to take a while to clear the water,” Geno said after a moment.

  Regan shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that. I must have missed it when Wolf pointed it out.”

  Geno shrugged. “I used to have a really big fish tank at our old apartment. These systems require a lot of filtration.”

  “Oh. I had no idea,” she admitted. “And I’ve never had fish.”

  In the back of her mind, she felt sure Wolf had never mentioned a filter. He had been distracted that day, but something that important wouldn’t have slipped his mind…right? In her reading up on aquaponics, she’d read about how some experts preferred to skip a filter in favor of other set-ups, and had wrongfully assumed Wolf had chosen not to use one, as well. She should have asked.

  “I’ll check later, but it should be fine,” Geno said. “I have to get back to work on that boat if you don’t need me to do anything else.”

  “Thank you, Geno. I really do appreciate the help. I’m glad you could fix it before any real damage was done.”

  “Yep,” he muttered, and with that he walked out of the greenhouse.

  Regan stared at the water, willing the fish to perk up. She knew it was too dangerous to put them in another tank. Each tank held fish in various stages of growth. They were acclimated to the environment in their particular tank. Switching them up could cause even more problems. Wolf had explained the symbiotic harmony the fish and plants played in each tank. Different vegetables released different levels of nitrogen into the water. Changing up one little thing could lead to disaster.

  “I hope you guys feel better,” she whispered to the fish. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

  “Are you talking to the fish?” Tabitha asked, coming into the room.

  Regan was a little embarrassed to admit it, but nodded her head. “I was.”

  Tabitha grinned. “That’s really sweet.”

  “I figure people talk to their pets and their houseplants, so I should talk to the fish.” She paused and cocked her head to the side. “Do fish have ears? Can they even hear me?”

  Tabitha burst into laughter. “I haven’t recently met a fish to ask.”

  Regan was staring into the tank. “I’ll talk to them anyway. They’re great listeners.”

  “I ran into Geno on his way back to the dock. He says he found the problem?”

  “Yeah, he did. Thank God. I feel like a complete idiot for not finding it myself.”

  “You’re new to this. When I put us together on this job, I knew there’d be a learning curve. You learned. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  Regan shook her head. “I’m not.”

  “Liar. I can see it in your face.”

  Regan refused to meet Tabitha’s gaze. She didn’t want her friend to recognize the same look she guessed had been on her face when she’d abandoned them in the city. Because, once again, she had the itch to run away. She hated letting any of them down—especially when it came to something so important. They had been kind enough to take her in not once, but twice, and she was failing them.

  Tabitha’s arms reached out to embrace her from the side, and her soft voice had a soothing effect when it came. “We all make mistakes. Don’t dwell on this one. It wasn’t anything major.”

  Regan thought about the advice she had given Wolf after an almost identical problem. “I know. I just feel like I can’t make a right move. Everything I’ve done, and in many cases not done, is wrong. Right now, I’m feeling like the pariah on this island. My instinct is to leave, find my own space, and work stuff out. I can’t really do that here.”

  Tabitha laughed, drawing Regan’s eyes up. “You could be like Lily and go pitch a tent somewhere.”

  Regan’s brow furrowed, seeing the truth in what Tabitha was pointing out, however subtly. “I’m acting like her, aren’t I?”

  Tabitha shrugged. “In some ways. I’ve told you before and I’m going to tell you again—quit running. Stand up and fight, defend yourself, push yourself to deal with the conflict.”

  Regan took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll work on it. I’m not sleeping in a tent, though. Let’s get that clear right now.”

  Tabitha giggled. “Good. Wolf would be beside himself if you abandoned him, as well. It’s going to get easier, Regan. We’re all going to find our groove. Now, if you’re done wallowing, show me what went wrong so I’ll know what to do if it happens on my watch. Then you can show me how to get some coconuts. You are the master climber and all now.”

  That made Regan feel a little better. There was at least one thing she was good at.

  “Alright, but I want to come back and check on these guys in a bit to make sure they’re doing okay.”

  “Have faith. They’ll be okay.”

  With that said, Regan pointed out the black boxes in the tanks and showed her the box of filters, describing how Geno had changed it in the cloudy tank. Then, Regan took one last look in the tank and willed the fish to start swimming more confidently before following Tabitha out the door and into a blazing hot day.

  “What are you going to do with more coconuts?” Regan asked as they made their way toward the trees.

  “I read about coconut oil and how it’s a really good antibacterial agent. I want to try and make some. The book says it takes a while.”

  “Don’t people use coconut oil for their skin and stuff?” Regan asked.

  “Yep. Maybe we can become entrepreneurs. We’ll make soaps, shampoos, and medicines! I have a little mint growing. We can dry the mint and infuse the oil with it,” she added excitedly, the idea clearly having just popped into her head. “No! I know! We can make peppermint essential oil! Oh my gosh, I’m so excited.”

  Regan didn’t feel quite as thrilled with the idea, but was willing to help Tabitha out. She climbed a palm tree first, knocked a few coconuts to the ground, and then watched as Tabitha did the same.

  “See, I knew you’d be good at it. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” Regan said, picking up coconuts from the ground.

  Tabitha laughed. “I think it’s easy for us, but I don’t think Geno or Fred would be super-great at it.”

  Regan had a brief image of Fred trying to coordinate his long arms and legs to climb the tree. It would probably be a disaster.

  “Okay, so what are we doing with all these coconuts?” Regan asked, using her shirt to help carry the load.

  “We’re going to break them open and cut out the meat. We only want to use the ones that are ripe,” Tabitha answered as they walked to the picnic table in front of the house.

  Regan dropped her coconuts on the table, doing her best to keep them from rolling away. “I’ll grab the knife,” she said, heading inside.

  When she returned, Tabitha got to work slamming the knife blade against the hard brown shells several times, splitting them in half.

  “Okay, now we’ll take these inside. Don’t forget to save the husks for Lily to use as a fire starter. We’ll need some, too. We need boiling water to do this,” Tabitha added, grabbing the split coconuts and heading inside.

  “I’ll start the fire in the pit,” Regan offered.

  With the fire going, she collected
the remaining coconuts and joined Tabitha in the kitchen.

  “We need about two cups of boiling water for every one coconut,” Tabitha said, quickly counting their bounty.

  “Ten cups?” Regan verified.

  “Yep.”

  She grabbed the big stockpot they used on the open fire outside and measured out water from the jug they kept inside before walking it out to the outdoor stove they generally used when it wasn’t raining.

  Back inside, she looked to Tabitha for directions, seeing that her friend was already busy cutting up chunks of coconut. “Alright, the water’s heating. What next?”

  “Grab a knife and start cutting the chunks of meat out. Then we have to grate the chunks.”

  Regan opened up a cupboard where she remembered seeing the hand grater. Finding it, she got busy sliding the small chunks over the grater, creating a pile of shredded coconut.

  When all the coconut was grated, Regan looked to Tabitha for the next step.

  “We’re going to mix the coconut with the boiling water. We’re supposed to use a blender to grind everything up.”

  Regan smiled and went to dig out the blender from a lower kitchen cupboard. When she came back, she held it up in triumph. “I don’t think this thing has ever been used,” she commented, looking at the pretty shine on the appliance.

  “I’m guessing Wolf and RC aren’t big on smoothies.”

  “Got that right. I’ll go check the water,” Regan said then with a glance outside, moved out the door with the oven mitts in hand.

  She returned a minute later, carrying the steaming pot of water. Tabitha dumped the coconut in and slowly began to stir.

  “We’re going to need that mesh strainer,” Tabitha said, pointing to a rack with several utensils hanging.

  Regan grabbed it and brought it to the work area, fascinated by what Tabitha was doing.

  “That doesn’t look like much,” Regan commented at the slushy goo in the pot.

  Tabitha chuckled. “Not yet. We need to blend all of this and then run it through that strainer into a clean bowl. Then, we boil that mixture. The book says it can take a while for the oil to separate from the water. Once it does, we skim it and we have coconut oil. I’ll feel better having extra medicine on hand in case someone gets a cut or a scratch.”