The island drowned in the roar of thunder overhead. Blue streaks of lightning crackled and danced across the grey sky as a torrent of rain poured out from the heavens. Thick rain drops pelted Miriam’s tough skin, sending rushing water coursing through all the contours of her sinewy frame. There was a flat, wide outcrop on the beach a hundred feet from the plane wreck, and Miriam was doing one-arm push-ups on it. Along with the tropical storm bearing down on her, she had one more burden, albeit light, to intensify her routine. Lanz was doing his own one-arm push-ups along her spine, his body moving in conjunction with his foundation’s. The rain was heavy and unrelenting, unlike the moderate climate both soldiers were used to back home. To Miriam, it felt like a machine gun firing rubber bullets against her backside; to Lanz, they were cannon balls.

            It had been a week since they first crashed onto the island, and despite their regular bouts bickering, the two were practically inseparable. Miriam convinced herself that it was to keep an eye on Lanz, that supervising him was integral to completing her mission. Lanz told himself he was taking advantage of her utility as a superior power, and that bonding with her, no matter how rocky a bond it may be, would ultimately serve his purposes best. In truth, they both served as the other’s anchor, keeping them grounded so far out from their familiar. Had they been all alone, the threat of going stir-crazy would be a constant presence. And their bickering gave them a greater purpose, their only reminder of the war waiting for them should they ever be rescued.

            Miriam pushed herself as hard as her bulging muscles could take her. Her bicep, tricep, and deltoid flexed arduously as she lifted herself up and down against the tumultuous storm. Thanks to a high-protein diet of pigs, fish, and fruits, she managed to make some considerable gains, and the abundance of food and freshwater on the island allowed her to keep up her routine without worrying about malnutrition.

            Lanz was in a similar boat. He was used to perfectly calibrated meals provided by his government, meticulously calculated by the nation’s military scientists to deliver the ideal assortment of vitamins and nutrients that’d best maintain his body. Though it wasn’t as healthy as the processed nutrient bricks and vitamin shakes, Lanz’s new diet of game and wild fruit was a welcome change.

            His workout was a tad more severe, having to put up with harsher rain and a shifting floor. Miriam didn’t understand why he didn’t just workout beside or even under her, but Lanz enjoyed the extra challenge; she figured he was just showing off. Though it was faint under the torrential downpour, Lanz could feel Miriam’s body heat exude from her skin and through her soaked tank top. Her grunting overpowered the thunder above.

            Once they had completed their sets, Lanz jumped off Miriam's back and walked to the sand, trudging through the mushy ground until he was a few feet from high tide. Miriam followed, her massive pylons crashing down beside him as the tiny stretched his arms and legs. Looking up, Lanz was belittled by the behemoth stretching beside him, her arms piercing the heavens from where he stood.

            “Race ya?” she teased. Lanz didn't bother responding, beginning his jog without her. The drenched sand proved to be tough terrain, the tiny's legs submerging past his shins into the mud. Miriam watched him trudge along as she stretched. She took her time, wanting to see how far Lanz could get before she put him in his place. It took an entire minute for him to get twenty feet away from her in the lousy weather, and once she tired of giving him the head start, Miriam bounded after the man. Trotting in a brisk jog, the woman rocketed past Lanz, her boot kicking a geyser of wet sand onto him. What went up past Lanz’s shins only covered the arch of Miriam’s boot, and in no time at all, the woman was a dot in the distance. Lanz wiped rain and sand from his face and continued his trek unphased.

            Miriam looked to the horizon as she jogged along the coast. The empty sea and sky had become her adversary in its own right, a pernicious jester teasing her with the tantalizing hope of rescue. Not once this long week had there been any hint of a passing ship or plane, save for the wreckage she and Lanz had been using as shelter. The tempestuous waves and tumultuous winds assured her no one was coming, but her eyes remained trained on the indomitable waters anyway.  

            In all the time it took Miriam to lap the island, the storm had not once let up. Lanz was still trudging along, having not even covered a quarter of the distance Miriam had ran. She sidled up to him, pivoting to face him as he pushed through the sand. Even walking backwards, Miriam still outpaced the jogging tiny.

            “Tired yet?” she smirked, still panting from her workout.

            “A little bit.” The two stopped and caught their breath. The rain wasn't letting up, but it at least cooled their bodies off, washing the sweat off them as they idled on the beach. Miriam bent down and picked up Lanz in her hand like a doll. “I can walk just fine,” he protested.

            “I'm not waiting all day for you to catch up.” She walked towards the crash site, holding Lanz up and steady as she approached their shelter. Her grip was tight around his wet body to ensure he didn't slip out. Lanz offered no resistance, not minding the gesture, or the sturdy embrace of her fingers, as much as he liked to put on.

            Miriam entered the grounded aircraft and set Lanz down on one of the benches. The partially wrecked, metal cylinder was saturated with the rattling sound of the downpour outside. Walking further in, Miriam slipped out of her soaking wet tank top and tossed it onto the floor, revealing the faint, pale scar carved down the center of her chiseled back. Lanz had removed the stitches a couple days prior, the wound nearing full recovery. Miriam sat down on the other side of the corridor and kicked off her boots before removing the rest of her drenched clothing. Miriam quickly grew desensitized to being naked around Lanz. Being so far from civilization and with the tiny not even being a full person, it hardly seemed to matter to her.

            On the other hand, Lanz was far from desensitized, unable to look in the woman’s direction for very long for fear of leering. He was no prude, but he wasn’t all that experienced with the fairer sex either. Though he didn’t mind removing his soggy top and pants, he kept his boxers on in front of her, even though the rain had soaked through them as well.

            “You can take those off if you want,” Miriam offered. “I promise not to laugh at how small it is.”

            “I don’t believe you for a second,” he retorted, taking a quick glance at her before turning away. She couldn’t believe a battle hardened warrior, a trained killer, could get so flustered by a naked woman. She got up and walked over to him, her hulking frame filling up his view. An unyielding muscle mountain stood before him; inches above his eye level was an exposed vulva topped with an unshaven plume.

            “What’s up, lech, afraid to share?” she grinned down at him, her face barely visible behind her protruding pecks. Lanz’s eyes darted across the landscape, unable to focus on any given feature. Between Miriam’s gargantuan thighs, loadbearing hips, rippling abs, hefty bosom, broad shoulders, and meaty biceps, there wasn’t anywhere “safe” he could rest his eyes. Even the woman’s appearance was an overwhelming force.

            “How am I the lech? You’re the one flaunting all you’ve got.”

            “Oh, so it’s my fault you keep gawking at me.” Miriam sat down across from Lanz, crossing her leg over her knee. “I’ll try harder to keep your urges in check then.”

            “Cry me a river,” Lanz grumbled. Miriam was ready to retort, but stopped herself. She pouted and squinted her eyes, her eyelids wavering something fierce. Her face contorted into a disturbing grimace. It wasn’t long before tears burst from her eyes and she was full on weeping. Her whimpering drowned out the rain pattering the metal shelter. Lanz sat there, baffled. The sight of Miriam crying was grotesque, like watching a cow eat ground beef. Once he had enough, Lanz stood on the bench and grabbed his boxers by the waistline. “Alright! I’ll take them off. Just, stop that already!” Lanz did as he said and dropped trou.

            In a blink, Miriam stopped crying and burst into boisterous laughter, her crocodile tears fading against her rain and sweat soaked body. “You actually bought that!” Not even the thunder could overpower the cacophony coming from Miriam’s amusement. She pointed callously at the naked man, mocking his gullibility. Lanz sat back down and flipped her off. “It’s not that bad, all things considered,” she eked out between laughs. “You could probably pleasure my nostril if you tried hard enough.”

            “Where’d you learn to do that? Cry on command like that?” Lanz asked, desperate to change the subject.

            “I wanted to be an actress when I was little. Took classes and everything.” It was Lanz’s turn to crack up. “Fuck off, I’m serious!”

            “Sorry, I’m trying to imagine a role you could get casted as. I’m thinking Villain’s Goon #3.” His dumb joke got a snicker from Miriam.

            “I wasn’t so fit back then, and my hair was longer. I would’ve looked great on the silver screen.” She brushed imaginary hair off her shoulder.

            “So, why’d you quit and become a soldier?” Lanz asked. The crack of thunder echoed outside.

            “You familiar with the name, Irvine Silvers?” she asked with a straight face.

            “As in General Irvine Silvers? He’s your country’s highest ranking officer.”

            “He’s also my father,” she admitted. Lanz already knew this; the private mentioned something to that effect before he died in the crash.

            “Following in your family’s footsteps, huh? Trying to make daddy proud?” His words were laced with vinegar, though Miriam didn’t pick up on it.

            “He would’ve been proud of me no matter what I did,” she responded. “No, it wasn’t pride. It was jealousy.” She placed her feet up on the bench and wrapped her arms around her knees. “All I’d ever hear my whole life is how great he is. He must be the most respected man in the country, and everyone we met couldn’t wait to remind me how lucky I was to have such an honorable man for a father. It grew sickening being surrounded by yes men and bootlickers, even if they were right. I wanted that respect for myself, so I threw away my childish dreams and enlisted. I was to rise up the ranks and become a war hero, just like my father, and give my future kids a nice big shadow to live under.”

            “And how’s that working out for you?”

            “I’m trapped on some rock in the middle of nowhere with you as my only company. How do you think it’s going?”

            “Sounds swell to me,” he mocked.

            “How about you? Do you have family waiting for you?” Lightning swam in the clouds directly above them, sending a deafening thunderclap down to the island.

            “My mom left us when I was a few months old. I can't recall what she looked like. My father, him I remember. I guess by some definition you could say he raised me. I was left on my own most of the time while he toiled away at some shitty job for some shitty boss who didn't pay for shit. Not that it mattered how little he got paid because they may have well delivered the checks straight to the bar. Most of my meals came out of a trash can. I only got to see him when he got home, drunk and bitter. The rare days he got a bonus were my favorites because it meant he'd be too wasted to beat me.”

            “Are those scars from him?” Miriam asked.

            “Some.” Lanz pointed out his old man's handiwork on his body: tears across his ribs from a lashing, a burn mark on the side of his right hand, a bullet hole in the foot, etc.

            “Is he still around?” she asked, afraid of the answer. Her father had never hurt her once, not so much as a slap or spank. Granted, she was the perfect daughter, but even if she misbehaved, the worst punishment she could expect was a grounding.

            “No. He died on my twelfth birthday. Stabbed in the chest.” Another thunderclap roared above them.

            “Were you there?” Miriam noticed his eyes growing hollow as buried memories rose to the surface.

            “I plunged the knife into his heart.” A lightning bolt struck the island, felling a palm tree a hundred feet from camp. “I don't remember the emotions, the thoughts going through my mind. I remember the blood on my arm. I remember the red stains on the shirt I was wearing. I remember the look on his face, an unholy trinity of rage, fear, and disappointment.” Miriam was silent. The storm raged on. “I turned myself in. I figured the detention center would make for better living than at home or on the street. At least there I could get fed, though I did pick up a few more scars. I was there a year and then…” He paused, unsure if he should continue.

            “Then what?”

            “Nothing. Never mind.” With an eerie halt, the storm ceased, filling the plane with unsettling silence. Lanz slid back into his boxers and hopped off the bench before exiting the aircraft. Miriam didn’t follow. Her thoughts lingered on his story, tinted by guilt. She felt stupid for complaining about living in her father’s shadow, for joining the war for such petty reasons. Her reflection was cut short by Lanz calling for her. “Hey, diva! You’ll want to see this.”

            Miriam walked out the door onto the sandy beach. Detritus littered the land, mostly leaves and branches fallen in the storm. Lanz was standing by the coast. Out at sea, one would be warranted in thinking there had been no storm at all. The ocean sat flat and still beneath a blue sky dotted by a few white clouds. In a perfect arch towering over the horizon was a resplendent rainbow. It was an idyllic sight worthy of a postcard. Miriam stood beside Lanz and took in the view.

            “Do you remember your first kill?” he asked. Miriam thought on it, the memories playing out in her mind like a movie.

            “We were marching to an outpost, me and a small platoon. There was an ambush. A tiny jumped from a tree onto the shoulder of the soldier in front of me and shot him straight through the skull. Before the man could collapse, I raised my gun at the tiny. Point blank. I wasn’t even thinking. It all happened so fast. I’d never seen a body explode like that. Once the ambush cleared and we were safe, I threw up.” Miriam paused and swallowed. “Thinking about it now makes me want to throw up. That image, that ‘pop’, still haunts my dreams.”

            “That’s good,” Lanz remarked, his gaze trained on the boundless horizon. “That revulsion you feel, it means you’re still human.”