The sand beneath Joshua's feet began to feel different the further he walked from the wreckage. Cooler. Almost damp, as if the ground itself was breathing. He stopped and looked down, noticing the sand had turned a deep grey color. He had not seen this part of the shoreline before. The water here was darker too, almost black near the edges where it met the strange grey sand.
He clutched the bible tightly under his arm and kept moving. The air grew thick and heavy, making each breath feel like work. Joshua loosened the collar of his torn shirt and pressed on. Then he saw it. Carved into the base of a large flat rock near the waterline were words. He knelt down and brushed away the wet sand covering them. The carving read: Many have come. Few have left. He who seeks will find.
Joshua sat back on his heels and stared at the words. Who carved this? How long ago? He looked up and down the shoreline but saw nothing except the dark water lapping quietly against the grey sand. A chill moved through him that had nothing to do with the temperature. "God, what is this place?" he whispered. No answer came. Only the sound of the water.
He stood and continued walking until the shoreline curved sharply inward, revealing a narrow cove hidden from the main beach. Inside the cove, partially covered by overgrown vines and large tropical leaves, sat the remains of a wooden structure. A shelter. Man made. Joshua pushed through the hanging vines and stepped inside. The roof was mostly gone but three walls still stood. Against the far wall was a rusted metal box, the kind used to store tools or supplies on a boat. Joshua pried it open with a sharp piece of driftwood. Inside were two candles, a small box of matches wrapped in old cloth, a folded piece of paper, and a tin cup.
He unfolded the paper carefully, afraid it might fall apart. It was a hand drawn map of the island. Rough and faded but readable. Whoever drew it had marked several locations with small symbols. A cross. A circle with a line through it. A crude drawing of what appeared to be a cave. And at the center of the island, drawn larger than everything else, was a single eye.
Joshua folded the map and placed it inside the bible for safekeeping. He lit one of the candles and sat inside the crumbling shelter as the sky outside began to turn orange. His ribs ached. His head throbbed. And for the first time since waking on the shore, he felt something heavier than fear settle over him. Doubt. If God was with him, why was he here? Why was Margaret gone? Why did any of this happen to a man who had dedicated his life to ministry?
He blew out the candle, lay on his side in the dirt, and closed his eyes. But sleep did not come easily that night.