Issue 154 July 2026

Beyond the beachhead of algae-fuzzed rocks and stained-glass coral, Steve was constructing a throne for himself with vines and pieces of plywood salvaged from the wreck. As I approached, I could see his face was scrunched up, the way it was when I first met him twenty-five years ago: eyebrows tilted, mouth half-open with a pink sliver of tongue poking out past his teeth.

Back then, he’d been inspecting a caterpillar with a magnifying glass, oblivious to the mud he was slowly sinking into. Now, he was wrestling a chunk of sodden driftwood out of the sand.

His creation collapsed as leaned the wood over the base.

I hoped he wouldn’t ask my help to rebuild it, though I knew he would, one way or the other. I hated to refuse him, but things had gone too far.

“Blast it!” He kicked a board away and checked that his crown—a rough circlet of twine and seashells—remained secure on his head.

“Steve?” I asked.

“Oh hello, Kim. I know we’re chums and all, but I’d appreciate it if you used my title whenever the others are around. Rituals and formalities are all-important at this juncture. ‘Your Highness’ should suffice, or perhaps ‘Your Majesty’—which sounds better?”

I hated seeing him like this. It was clear he was in a delicate state. Better to play along for now.

“Your Majesty, I have concerns. Perhaps it’s a little bit early for… you know… all this.” I gestured towards the heart of our ‘village,’ where a figure was hogtied to the captain’s chair, daubed in tar and coated with the bright yellow feathers of the fat little birds I’d hunted for dinner last night. “It’s a bit drastic, don’t you think? We’ve only been shipwrecked a few days.”

His eyes betrayed a moment of confusion, or perhaps panic, but it passed quickly. “Kim, Kim, Kim – you’re a good sort. A well-meaning soul. I love that so very much about you, but alas it means you’re ill-suited to the burdens of leadership. Hard choices, you understand. We must set him aflame at sunset as an example to the others.”

He turned back to his shattered throne, trying to collect the pieces. This was the most animated I’d seen him in a long time. He’d lost his job as an insurance analyst a few months prior, and shortly afterwards his now ex-husband had left him for some gangly teenager who worked as a cashier in Tesco. He’d told me he wasn’t important to anyone anymore, that there was nobody to miss him. Except for me, of course. It was just like him to forget. 

The cruise had been my idea, an attempt to break him out of his despondency. One which, until recently, had been unsuccessful.

“I’m not sure it’s wise to burn him,” I said. “Erm… Your Majesty.”

“What? You want to hang him instead? Nonsense! The logistics alone give me a headache. Tar-and-feathering is all rather nice and traditional. Nothing solidifies the support of one’s subjects more than tradition—that and a common enemy, of course.”

“Look, Steve, what happened to us… it was awful. I’m not over it either, but—”

“Kim, my dear, you’re the only doctor on this island—”

“Veterinarian.” At least, I was.

Was. I was already thinking about my pre-wreck life in the past tense.

“Dog, man, horse—it’s all the same my dear, we’re all beastly. I simply meant that you know the natural order of things, and as such you are entirely invaluable to my administration. Just as you are entirely invaluable to me as a friend.”

Invaluable. I don’t think he’d ever called me invaluable before. Treasured certainly, even cherished a few times, but never invaluable. It was truer than he knew. How many times had I come to his rescue?

“That’s why I’m going to ask you to set him alight,” he continued. “It would be unseemly for a King to also be the executioner. In this, I need your support. You will be not only my dearest friend, but the instrument of my authority as long as we reside on this island. It’s the only way to keep the others in line and stop this palace from descending into chaos.”

Was I willing to go this far for my dearest friend? There were limits, but denying him now might rupture our friendship at a time when we needed each other most. And the flames would be lit either way.

“Steve, I—”

“Kim,” he said, “you’re the only one I can trust.”

The plea in his voice made me want to weep. I remembered him, a frail child floating around the kindergarten like a lonely ghost. I remember that same sheepish cast on his face when he sidled up to me in the playground.

Please play with me. I don’t have any friends.

I said the same thing I told him all those years ago: “Of course… friend.”

When he embraced me, I felt the moisture on his cheeks. My acceptance meant the world to him. On this island, he could be important again.

How could I refuse him that?

Later, when the sun melted pink on the horizon and turned the shards of coral into a brilliant mosaic, I took my torch to the hogtied figure. He didn’t scream or jostle as the flames crackled and devoured his straw torso, melted the white eggshells of his eyes. If Steven wanted to pretend there were other survivors here to rule over, who was I to take that away from him? Maybe I could even come to believe it too.

We had to do something to pass the time.

The two of us sat on the log and opened a bottle of whiskey that had floated ashore from the wreckage, and we watched the effigy burn against the watercolour backdrop of the horizon. Tomorrow would leave us time aplenty to discuss matters of the state.

* * *

Ⓒ Nick Badot