Bum's Rush

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All frolickers, fellators, and fuckers in this work of fiction are of legal age to fornicate.
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Prologue</p>
Three years ago, I started working at this venture capital place as a web-designer. It's a fairly large company - but it's small enough that everybody mostly knows everybody.
The benefits are above average, and the employees are motivated by profit-sharing options and a 401k with a superior matching program.
Three months ago, there was an opening in our fitness and wellness department. I emailed the info to my sister. She applied and got the job.
Megan is not a supermodel - but she's fit, taller than most women, and has thin legs - so her butt (while not big) draws the eyes of most men. With her light brown hair (that stops just short of her shoulders) and her mostly flat (B cup, maybe) chest, she looks like a gazelle - strong and graceful.
Last month, one of the founder's kids - Rich Ridley - who is an Assistant VP in Marketing - asked Meg out.
The first date went well enough - and he's (obviously) connected - so she said "yes" to a couple more.
Ridley quickly turned into an ogre on a power-trip so Meg started turning him down.
A week later, he appeared at my desk - to try to get me to pressure her into changing her mind.
The conversation started with promises - but moved to implied threats fairly quickly. It was pretty easy to see why Megan was telling him "no".
Besides that, I'm not about to push her into a relationship with this arrogant fucker when I spent so much time convincing her this was a great place to work.
The entitled twat came back a couple more times - each time with a new angle - and then he suddenly stopped showing up.
Last week, Meg and I each got pulled into HR. We're being moved to a new branch office that's opening near Panama.
We each get $100k in moving expenses and will be part of an advance team that will be coordinating logistics from the ground up.
It's an "opportunity of a lifetime" - they said - and not optional.
Of course, as soon as I got back from HR, I started asking my computer-nerd coworkers about the new Pearl Islands office. They peeked into all of the data we have access to. As far as we can determine, there is no office opening in Panama - and never will be.
Welcome to the Bum's Rush.

What to Pack?</p>
From what Megan and I are being told, we're flying into Panama. From there, we'll travel by boat to the prospective location.
Supposedly, there's an intermodal cargo (Conex) box of supplies getting dropped off with us.
We'll have international phone service via towers on the mainland. We'll set up and organize the Didim Escort new campus - using local labor - and notify the corporate office when we're ready for the rest of the team members to be deployed.
It doesn't take a genius to realize that a fitness trainer and a web-programmer would not be the right people for this task - which helps confirm that the whole story is a work of fiction.
Since it's pretty obvious we're being dropped on a deserted island and left for dead, I started trying to figure out what I needed to take with me.
Honestly, I'm betting we get chloroformed and dumped - with nothing more than the clothes on our backs - but I'd like to hope it won't be that bad.
Best-case scenario: I load a backpack with as much shit as I think I can carry - and hope the fuckers they hire to dispose of us are generous enough to let me keep it all.
Maybe I'll carry a wallet, overloaded with cash, and either use that as a bribe - or hope they just knock us out, steal the money, and take off.
When I got home, I dug through my storage crates, looking for my old Boy Scout shit.
Most of the stuff our Scout Troop had bought (or made) was already stored in non-descript containers - like an Altoids tin for the fire piston and the char-cloth scraps.
I found my old trail-pack and started grabbing stuff that looked useful.
I threw a couple knives in - with a sharpener. I found some tools that fold down to make them easier to transport: a tree saw, a shovel, and a mattock.
Of course, I pitched in a bundle of parachute cord, a roll of duct tape, and a small tarp.
For meals, I grabbed two mess kits, a couple small pots, and a net hammock that could double as a net for fishing.
I found a small first-aid kit, sewing kit, a hand mirror, a compass, iodine tablets, a wind-up flashlight - as well as some bug spray, aloe, and sunscreen.
I didn't see any mosquito netting so I ordered some with expedited shipping. It showed up the next day.
I packed all the items into the various stuff-sacks I'd collected over time, loaded them into the bottom of my pack, and threw a couple outfits (plus spare socks the other half, it felt like all my forward progress was erased each time one of them hit us.
Meg took over for a bit and I took a drink from one of the water bottles I'd grabbed.
As soon as she petered out, I took over again.
It seemed like another hour passed before we got close enough that we could hop out of the boat, into waist-deep water, and drag the thing to the sand.
I decided the dinghy was going to serve one of two purposes - maybe both by the time we were done. It would be a hard roof for a shelter or - when Didim Escort Bayan the rains came - it would be a reservoir for fresh water.
We drug it away from the water's edge and looked up and down the thin beach.

Stranded</p>
I dug the mattock out of my pack and Meg got her hatchet.
We left the rest of the things in the lifeboat and went through the gap in the bushes to look for water sources, wildlife, shelter locations, and edibles.
Not really seeing anything - good in the case of predators - bad in the case of everything else on our list - we headed back to the boat.
Although it had looked like midafternoon when we'd arrived, we could tell that we didn't have a lot of time before it was going to be dark.
The layout of the benches in the boat didn't look like we'd be able to rest by just lying in it.
We found a few lengths of bamboo that looked like it had washed in from somewhere else and laid them across the benches.
There weren't quite enough to fill the whole area but it should work - at least for now.
I ran the para-cord between two palm trees, threw the tarp over it, staked down the sides, and then we drug the dinghy under the roof.
I'd read that there are biting flies here - so we unrolled the mosquito netting, removed the tarp, hung the netting, replaced the tarp over the top, and then draped the netting around us as we sat on the bamboo pallet we'd constructed.
Meg surprised me with a small package of beef jerky - which we split - chasing it with a few sips of bottled water - before trying to use our extra clothes to make a thin mattress on our pole-bed.
We didn't hear any large animals but as true-dark set in, there was a lot of "scuttling" sounds.
I shined my phone's flashlight at the palm tree at our feet to find little multi-color fiddler-looking crabs hanging from the bark, staring back at me.
It seemed like they hadn't been able to climb up the sides of the boat so, for now at least, we didn't have to share our bed with them.
I was hotter than I've ever been when trying to sleep - but Meg insisted on snuggling into me the whole night.

I put my arm around her head