stream or pond concealed in the interior, beyond sight of the beach, there didn’t appear to be a source of fresh water—which meant he and his fellow survivors were in extremely desperate straits.
His only remaining hope was that Daniels had had better luck locating help, that rescue was already underway. They had to get off this island quickly. He had to, as soon as possible, for a number of personal reasons that had nothing at all to do with his next building contract. It was a toss-up as to whom he was most worried about—his daughter or his father. Knowing his family, they would all take the news of the crash hard. They would surely assume the worst. After losing her mother at such a young age, Becky would be devastated. His mother would wail and pray and cling to the slimmest thread of hope. His sisters would pester the airline officials to no end for the smallest details. But it was his father, and his reaction, that Zach feared for most.
Ike Goldstein was a lovable, stubborn old goat, and lately he’d been displaying that last trait distressingly well, driving his entire family to distraction. Recently, he’d been having recurring chest pains, shortness of breath, and dizzy spells—and adamantly refusing to see a doctor, despite pleas from everyone. Zach’s mother, Sarah, had tried everything from nagging to outright threats, employing every guilt tactic known to Jewish wives and mothers the world over, and all to no avail. Ike insisted it was only indigestion, or maybe a touch of angina, nothing serious enough to necessitate a visit to that “quack,” who knew next to nothing and charged the earth for a lot of worthless advice.
It had taken a two-hour phone conversation/argument with Zach to get the elder Goldstein to finally relent, under certain staunch conditions. Ike would only consent to tests, which, the doctor had already recommended simply on the strength of Sarah’s description of his symptoms, if Zach would go with him. Zach had agreed with alacrity, instructing his parents to set up an appointment for the first Monday after his arrival back in the U.S. This would give Zach a few days to get his construction team lined up and put someone reliable in temporary charge of the hotel project.
Zach intended to fly from Las Vegas to Seattle, to stay for as long as it took, to direct construction via fax, or to commute back and forth if necessary—anything to get his father those tests, to determine what ailed him, and to implement proper treatment. Whether it entailed medication for high blood pressure or something as complicated as heart surgery, Zach needed to be there. His father, his brave beloved idol, not only hated hospitals, he held a deep-seated fear of them, feeling that once a person went in they were more likely to come out feet first, especially if surgery was required.
“I watch television. I’ve heard all the stories,” Ike had said time and time again. “They give you tainted blood, they use instruments that aren’t sterile, they leave sponges inside when they sew you back up. You’re at the mercy of incompetent fools. Once they cut you open, odds are you’re a dead man.”
To add to this lop-sided equation, Ike had a rare blood type, and Zach was the only member of the family whose blood type matched. Naturally, Zach had already promised to donate as much as need be, if such a demand arose. Ike was adamant about not being infused with a stranger’s blood. And if his mother’s dire predictions, in addition to the doctor’s peripheral assessment, was accurate, there was every chance Zach would be required to do just that.
Zach, too, had a bad feeling about his father’s symptoms. He could only hope news of the crash hadn’t sent his dad straight into a heart attack or stroke. He had to get home. It was imperative that he reach Seattle as soon as humanly possible. But as things stood now, he was stranded on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, helpless to do
His only remaining hope was that Daniels had had better luck locating help, that rescue was already underway. They had to get off this island quickly. He had to, as soon as possible, for a number of personal reasons that had nothing at all to do with his next building contract. It was a toss-up as to whom he was most worried about—his daughter or his father. Knowing his family, they would all take the news of the crash hard. They would surely assume the worst. After losing her mother at such a young age, Becky would be devastated. His mother would wail and pray and cling to the slimmest thread of hope. His sisters would pester the airline officials to no end for the smallest details. But it was his father, and his reaction, that Zach feared for most.
Ike Goldstein was a lovable, stubborn old goat, and lately he’d been displaying that last trait distressingly well, driving his entire family to distraction. Recently, he’d been having recurring chest pains, shortness of breath, and dizzy spells—and adamantly refusing to see a doctor, despite pleas from everyone. Zach’s mother, Sarah, had tried everything from nagging to outright threats, employing every guilt tactic known to Jewish wives and mothers the world over, and all to no avail. Ike insisted it was only indigestion, or maybe a touch of angina, nothing serious enough to necessitate a visit to that “quack,” who knew next to nothing and charged the earth for a lot of worthless advice.
It had taken a two-hour phone conversation/argument with Zach to get the elder Goldstein to finally relent, under certain staunch conditions. Ike would only consent to tests, which, the doctor had already recommended simply on the strength of Sarah’s description of his symptoms, if Zach would go with him. Zach had agreed with alacrity, instructing his parents to set up an appointment for the first Monday after his arrival back in the U.S. This would give Zach a few days to get his construction team lined up and put someone reliable in temporary charge of the hotel project.
Zach intended to fly from Las Vegas to Seattle, to stay for as long as it took, to direct construction via fax, or to commute back and forth if necessary—anything to get his father those tests, to determine what ailed him, and to implement proper treatment. Whether it entailed medication for high blood pressure or something as complicated as heart surgery, Zach needed to be there. His father, his brave beloved idol, not only hated hospitals, he held a deep-seated fear of them, feeling that once a person went in they were more likely to come out feet first, especially if surgery was required.
“I watch television. I’ve heard all the stories,” Ike had said time and time again. “They give you tainted blood, they use instruments that aren’t sterile, they leave sponges inside when they sew you back up. You’re at the mercy of incompetent fools. Once they cut you open, odds are you’re a dead man.”
To add to this lop-sided equation, Ike had a rare blood type, and Zach was the only member of the family whose blood type matched. Naturally, Zach had already promised to donate as much as need be, if such a demand arose. Ike was adamant about not being infused with a stranger’s blood. And if his mother’s dire predictions, in addition to the doctor’s peripheral assessment, was accurate, there was every chance Zach would be required to do just that.
Zach, too, had a bad feeling about his father’s symptoms. He could only hope news of the crash hadn’t sent his dad straight into a heart attack or stroke. He had to get home. It was imperative that he reach Seattle as soon as humanly possible. But as things stood now, he was stranded on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, helpless to do
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