Young Writers Society

Alaska

I'd heard Ezzie talking quietly, but she'd been doing that quite often-- as she stated, loudly, that she was going to find plants, I was relieved that I'd have alone time.

I flicked my eyes open, listening as Ezzie exited the tent, her feet making soft shuffling noises against the dirt outside. As the footsteps trailed off, I released a breath.

"Hey," I jump at the sound of this voice, and at first I thought it was Chris-- only because the speaker was distinctly male. "I'm Mark. McSugar."

I roll myself over, careful to avoid both my burned and contused legs, and stare at the boy in front of me. With sandy hair, this kid had bags under his eyes, but he was handsome-- I'd seen him before, on the plane. I blinked, and realized that I hadn't replied.

"...Alaska," I croak out, flinching at my own voice. Weak. Pathetic. I could barely even talk, what made me think I could provide fruits for everyone? That's what landed me here, anyways.

"So..." he pauses, glancing over me, and raises a brow, "fell from a tree, huh?"

Furrowing my brows, I force myself into a sitting position, and clear my throat, "And from the sky, in a plane going over 200 miles per hour."

"Really? So did I. Coincidence?" He smiles, as if he were the funniest person on this God-forsaken island, and crosses his arms, "Anyways, I see Ma-homie's got himself a new gir-"

"Don't," I cut him off sharply, though I regretted it instantly. I didn't want to hear anything about the manipulating asshole that was called 'Chris'. "I'm not his girlfriend. Not that I would even want to be."

His lips part, as if he were about to remark back with something fiery and stupid, but he seems to stop himself, thinking better of it, "How's that leg?"

"Which one?" I snort, and pick at the bandage wrapped around my left knee.

Mark shrugs, and uncrosses his arms so he can touch his forehead, "Both?"

"I don't know," I reply, mimicking his movement by shrugging once, then rubbing at my eyes with the back of my hand, "Bad? Messed up? Here, let me go to the hospital real quick, see what the doctors think-- oh, wait, we're in the middle of dumbfuck Egypt."

"Woah," his eyebrows shoot up, and he raises his hands defensively, "I didn't-"

"No, no, I'm sorry, Mike," I sigh, and he cuts in with a quiet 'Mark', though I ignore it and shake my head, "I'm not in a good mood. First Ding Dong Dickhead screws me over, you know...manipulates me into thinking..." I trail off, purposefully, thinking that now wasn't the best time. "I'm just tired."

"I can tell," he murmurs, and I purse my lips together. "Ding Dong Dickhead. Interesting. Sorry. I-- hey, you're a little red. Do...I don't know, do you want to go and sit outside?"

I snap my head towards him, which was a bad thing to do, because it hurt my neck, but I ignore that and nod once, "That'd...be great. I think it'd be kind of hard to get out there, though, what with my legs. They hurt awful bad."

Mark cracks a smile, "Awful bad. I like that."

I thought he'd been joking, but his expression seemed real enough. I feel my cheeks warm up a bit, but I tell myself that it was just the heat.

"Oh, right," he stares at me for a second, then steps forward. "I can help you out there, if you want?"

"Please," I say with an exhale, "and thank you."

**************************

Instead of making Mike-- er, Mark parade me around the beach, I had him put me down near the water so I could rinse my hair out as best as I could, and decided that was good.

Near me, a couple of people sat, their heads lowered as they either cried or mumbled to themselves, some even playing with the sand.

I dip my hands into the cool water, then lift it to my face, rubbing it all over. I immediately felt better. Not completely, but slightly. It was a work in progress.

It took me maybe 20 minutes to completely soak my hair, and after that, I decided that I wanted to wash my body-- or, the parts I could reach. Pulling my shirt over my head, I twist myself around, and lean back until the top half of me is submerged in the water.

It was cool against my baking, caramel skin, and I wanted to stay like that for hours, but I knew I couldn't.

Firstly, I'd get sun burned. Secondly, my skin would turn into a raisin, from the water. Thirdly, if Ezzie found me out of the tent, she'd tan my hide. I didn't need my hide tanned anymore-- it was dark enough.

After pulling myself out of the water, with no support from my legs, I pull my dirty shirt back over my head, and sit there for a moment, observing my surroundings.

One of the kids near me, with their head between their knees, caught my attention. It was obviously a boy, with brown hair, and tanned skin. His shirt caught at the hem of his jeans, and pushed up a little bit, revealing an equally tanned stomach. My breath caught in my throat as I realized that I knew this person:

Chris.

I tear my eyes away, determined not get his attention, but a low, broken voice rasps out a weak, "Laska?"

I don't respond-- I simply sit there, staring out at the sea; watching as it beckoned me forward, into it's open arms that were made of tortured waters. I almost obeyed. I wanted to. I would, if I could walk.

He lied to me. He manipulated me. He didn't care about me. I didn't care about him. I didn't need him. He didn't need me.

"I-I know you can hear me," his voice is slightly closer now, and I was hoping that it was because the wind carried it towards me, but as I check from my peripheral vision, I see a boy with a tear-stained face crawling towards me; weak.

My father once told me that crying was for the helpless. I cried all of the time. Did that mean anything? I knew it did.

As I sat there, forcing my face to show no emotion, I scream at myself silently. His voice was desperate for something. Someone. Not me.

"Hawaii," his voice is pleading, now, and I'm confused because he was the tough guy. He was the one who didn't show fear, weakness, all of that. "New York, California, Virginia, Ohio-- I can't remember any other states, but please. Just...Alaska, listen to me."

"Why?" I growl, and turn towards him quickly. "So you can use me again? So you can kiss me, touch me, make me feel special, then go back to your girlfriend and forget all about me? What am I to you? A booty call? A toy? You can't do this. We're in the middle of nowhere, and you're pulling middle school stunts, Chris."

His face was contorted with pain-- though it was clear that the pained look wasn't from me snapping at him. Something had happened. He'd seen something. I didn't care.


Masking his pain, now, was a look of shock, "Al-"

"Please, stop," I cut him off, and forget all about kindness, forgiveness, hospitality...and just focus on my anger. My anger towards everything; my mother dying, us moving to the U.S., my father being too good for me, me not being good enough for anything, the trip to Africa, the crash...Chris for making me feel like I was actually good enough, for once. "I am so sick and tired of being treated like this. Like I'm just a rebound. I'm always second. I can't get what I want, ever. I can't do a nice thing without getting hurt in the process. I can't even climb a fucking tree without falling and hurting myself even more. So what, Chris? What do you want from me? What do I have to give to you? What is it that draws you back? Why aren'-"

I'm cut off by chapped lips and heavy breathing. Chris' lips were on mine, and for once, I didn't want them to be. After a second, I rip my face away from his, and wipe at my mouth roughly.

"See? You can't just fucking do that. You can't go around kissing girls randomly, and making them feel wanted, then running off and never giving them a second look," I spit, and glare at him. "Go find your girlfriend, and fucking leave me alone. I have better things that I could be doing."

...like laying on a cot made out of random objects, and being useless. Sounded better than being here. Still unable to stand, I begin crawling away, dragging my legs with me, hatred on my tongue and fear forcing my lips to tremble. Locking eyes with Mark, I slump onto the ground, and watch him make his way towards me.

Jackie

After finding Elvis, I listened closely as he began rambling on and on about his Ezzie, about how she was going to have his kid, and how they were going to get married when they got off this island. It was a good motivation, I decided, but it was best not to get hopes up. Chances are, we wouldn't be getting out of here for awhile.

As we walked through the woods, carefully avoiding fallen branches and shrubs, the outline of a figure came into view, with what looked to be twigs clumped in their hands. Stepping closer, the twigs suddenly fell to the ground. I tore my eyes away, not caring anymore. I actually don't remember when I did care, about anyone other than my family and Chelsea.

"Hey," the person called out, suddenly, and Elvis seemed to just now notice him. We pick our ways closer, and I realize that this was the guy from before; the one that was floating, the first alive person I'd seen once I had drifted to shore. "You seen a guy? Brown hair, football jacket, tall."

The boy seemed to glance over me, and I wanted to turn around and walk away, not talk to him-- hell, I didn't even want to be with Elvis. But, I'd promised him something. Not something I could do, of course, but I had to at least try and make it seem real.

"Filthy," I mutter, but voice just below a whisper, "filthy scumbag."

"No," Elvis responds, after a moment, then continues with, "I haven't seen anybody."

The boy dropped his head, and mumbled something that sounded like, "Well, you see a gut you miss, you say 'scrumptious'."

"I'm Elvis," the man next to me greets, after nodding once, as if what this kid had said made complete sense, "This is, uh, Jackie. We're...we're looking for people, too."

I could feel myself lighten at that, and, automatically, began describing Chelsea, hoping that maybe he knew her or had seen her, "She's about this tall," I indicate to my shoulder, and pause for a moment before saying, "Long brown hair, pretty green eyes. Her skin is like a sheet of paper-- white, man. I mean, white-white. If you'd see her, you'd know her right off the bat. She's usually talking about dead puppies, or something depressing like that. Her-her nails, yeah, they were painted teal. A dark teal. Have you seen her? We're looking for her," I take in a breath, then stare at this kid, surprised to see that he was actually listening, his eyes determined, and his jaw working slowly, as if he were thinking, "I-If you haven't...you can, um, just...tell me if you see her?"

He's quiet for a moment, then he says, "I'll keep my eyes out."

And with that, we started off again, leaving the boy behind as we tromped along in silence.

"So," Elvis says suddenly, and the sound of his voice made my skin crawl. "how long have you two been together?"

I disliked men; but, for some reason, this one didn't seem as bad as the others.

"You're worthless," the man with the prickly face growled, swinging the studded belt down on the helpless girls side again. She didn't even bother yelping in pain, for she was so used to it, that she barely even felt it hitting her. She didn't even flinch when he'd ripped the belt off, since the studs had stuck in her bloodied and bruised skin, "You never do anything right. After all that I do for you, you're still ungrateful. Why don-"

I blink the memory away, and feel my eyes burning with something-- no, nothing. I wasn't helpless. I wasn't worthless. Elvis was staring at me, with a sort of remorse that I couldn't put into words. It was like he knew what I was going through.

"A year," I grumble, and pick at the hem of my crop top, that was now shredded. "We've been together for a year."

*****************************

"Jan," Jackie Lane Brinking's voice breathed down the small girls neck, as the two gasped for air. They'd just escaped their hell. "Jan, you have to go. He's coming. I can hear him running."

"No-" Jannali starts, but is cut off by a harsh, angry scream.

Crashing is heard, as if the 42-year-old man had tripped over trash cans, then he yells, "You dirty sluts! I'll find you, and when I do, you're dead!"

Jannali whips around to face the girl she'd come to know in the past three weeks, and frantically searches her face for something she wasn't sure was even there, "I-I can't leave you here. You...Jackie, please..."

"I-" Jackie pauses, and purses her lips, then nods, "Okay. I'll distract him while you go and catch the train. Wait for me in the third cart, okay? I'll make it there. I promise."

Jannali, in her naive state, nods her head several times, then takes off, clutching the promise in her hand with a tight grip, refusing to let it go.

As soon as she reached the train, zooming by her quickly, so hard it blew her tangled, greasy hair from her face, and she glanced around, looking for someone-- Jackie. When nobody came into sight, she turned back to the train, waited for a new cart, and lunged forward, throwing herself into it. Once inside, she trained her eyes on the open door, then heard a loud 'bang!' and caught a slight glimpse of a falling figure.

"She's coming," the girl mumbled, ignoring what she'd just seen, and heard, with her fists clenched, her body aching from everything she'd enduring in the past 24 hours. "She promised. She's coming. I just have to wait."

Jannali fell asleep mumbling these things to herself, her hands shoved in her pockets.

Though she knew, somewhere in her mind, she knew her savior had been struck. Jackie lay helplessly on the back porch of a random building, clutching her stomach as Yakbar, the man who they'd been sold to, stared smugly as her crumpled form.

I woke up to Elvis shaking my shoulder, and I must've jumped three feet in the air because he leaned back, startled.

"I...I'm sorry," he apologizes, and rises to his full height, "I just-"

"Don't touch me," I grumble, and stand up. I never got a break from my past. It haunted my mind, my thoughts, and my dreams. I shivered, and glanced around, "Why'd you wake me up?"

After getting slightly lost the day before, Elvis had suggested that we sit and rest. I, of course, had fallen asleep.

"Daylight," he answers after a moment, then says, "I'm sorry. I just...I don't understand. You seem so uncomfortable around, well...around guys."

I shift my eyes over to his, and force a smile, "That's ridiculous. Let's go, before I forget how to get to where Ezra is."

I felt bad for continuing on with that, but I had to do something. I needed help finding Chelsea.

Elvis nodded, agreeing, and we started off into the woods again.

Saph

After sitting on a log for ten minutes, waiting patiently for Chris, I get up and decide to look for him. I scout around a three metre radius, but don't find any signs of him.

"Chris?" I call. No response.

He's gone.

My chest tightens involuntarily, and I fall back against a tree. He's gone. Chris left me all alone. No way can I face Carlisle alone. Why would he leave me? Maybe he rely does hate me. So all of those kind words, the kisses, were for nothing? Did I consider him my friend for no reason? I guess I was right to shut myself from people.

Sniffing and wiping my nose, I straighten and turn around. My feet move at their own accord, and soon I'm running through the forest. Only for the first time, I'm not running blindly. I dash through the leaves, bound over a log, and skip across rocks. I pace myself, maintaining my air flow, letting my lungs fill with each breath. Elation courses through my body, and I feel it. Freedom. The only time I have this sensation is when I run.

My feet skid to a halt and my arms shoot out to help stop my momentum by grabbing a hold of two trees. I stand still, frozen, staring ahead. The meadow stretches out before me, the grass swaying and dancing in the breeze. A gust of wind hits my face,lifting my hair, playing with the tangled strands, teasing them. A sudden sense of foreboding washes through me, rendering me motionless.

In the distance I spot Indigena, head down, grazing. My eyes widen as they take in the scene. Slowly, my hands lower to my sides, and I take a step forward. As soon as my foot touches the grass, Indigena lifts her head, her gaze shooting to me. A small smile plays at my lips at the sight of her, head up, ears forward. She won't let me down, she won't leave me or lie to me. Indigena is my friend.

The next step I take propels me forward, straight into a head-on sprint. Indigena turns to me and canters over to me, tossing her mane as she closes the gap between us. I skid to a stop just as she does before we crash into each other, and fling my arms around her neck.

"Oh Indigena, it just isn't fair," I pant into her neck. "People suck. You're my only friend now. As well as Tenrec and Fossa, who are in the jungle."

Indigena snorts and stamps her foot. I pull back and chuckle, stroking her nose.

"That's right, girl, we don't need them," I nod my head.

Walking around to her side, I grab her mane and hoist myself onto her back. Indigena turns around and lets me lush her forward, and walks toward the horizon. I lean over onto her neck as she walks, absentmindedly playing with her mane as I gaze out across the meadow.

"Do you think we'll ever get off this island?" I mumble. "Probably not. I kinda feel sorry for everyone. They have families and lives they're missing out on."

Indigena huffs and nickers softly.

"I never had much of a life. And I never complained because home was too far away. Everything was just too far away for it to go back the way it was. I knew that, and Mum knew that, which is why she couldn't stand seeing me slip away," I shift and rest my chin on the back of Indigena's neck. "I wonder how she's doing, my mother. I'd like to know if she thinks of me still."

Indigena pauses in her stride and lifts her head. I sit up and turn to follow her gaze. She's staring at a mass of rocks, something like a cave at the base of them. Indigena stares, ears pricked forward, body stick still. She exhales loudly, nostrils flaring, before continuing on.

Finally, she stops by a cliff edge, a thin path leading down into an enclosed bay. I sit straighter and stare at the white sand, the crystal blue water, and the thin line of bush running against the cliff face below. The scene is beautiful, pristine. Untouched by the ravages of humanity.

"It's beautiful," I breathe.

Indigena starts down the path, and I cling to her neck tightly. There are a couple of moments where the path seems to disappear, and I let out a little squeak. Indigena doesn't slip once, even when the path becomes very steep, and her hooves are on tilted, smooth looking rock.

Finally, she touches sand, and trots over to some shade under a couple of tall trees. I slide off her back and stumble over to the trunk of the nearest tree. I slump down and stare up at the painted horse, who is staring out to sea.

"Are you some kind of spirit animal?" I ask her.

Indigena turns to me, ears flicking back and forth. I half expect her to start talking, but this is the real world, not a fantasy novel. Even though everything that's happened seems unrealistic. The plane crashes on an island never before touched by humans, all the people that would have known what to do in this situation dead, my supposedly dead father alive and on this island, and now I've run away with a horse that acts like a human. None of these things should be possible, and yet they've happened. All I need to do is accept it.

"Right," I jump to my feet. "I'm hungry."

Indigena throws her head and walks into the bushes. I look around, wondering if there is anything I can use to find food, or anything that might offer food. The bushes look promising, but it's getting really hot. Maybe I can do some fishing. My eyes scan the edge of the bushes, and I spot some thin branches that could be used as spears. Breaking one off, I poke the tip and smile with satisfaction. This could spear a fish, no biggy.

Walking over to the water, I stop to take my pants and jumper off before wading out into the shallows. I stand at the edge of the sand, staring at the reef. I have to stand there for a while until a large fish swims by. I poise to strike and when it pauses near my feet. My reflexes kick in and the spear goes straight through its head. I pull the fish up and bring it back to the beach. I find a rock to put it on while I build a small fire. That done, I grab two sticks and start rubbing them together the way I was taught in cadets to start a fire. When the sticks are burning steadily, I feed the fire more wood, and put a stick through the fish. After cooking it, I pick at the flesh and watch the ocean.

My mind drifts away, and I let myself be calmed by the movement of the waves. Up, curl, down, crash. The swell of the ocean never changes, always moving back and forth. Sometimes in a more ferocious manner, sometimes barely moving at all, but moving all the same.

Something catches my attention in the horizon. Something small and dark, moving across the waves. I jump to my feet and hold a hand to my face to shield it from the sun to get a better look. The shape is coming closer, but I still can't quite make it out. I need to get to higher ground. The cliff path!

Spinning around, I race over to the cliff face and start climbing up the rocks. When I reach a flat point, I turn around and lift my hand to shield my face again, peering out over the horizon. Is that a ... Boat? A ship? I narrow my eyes and lean forward. The dark shape takes some form, and it is indeed a ship, going passed the island.

"Hey!" I scream, waving my arms. "Hey, over here!"

For a second I pause, wondering why I'm doing this. And then an idea comes to mind. I get the ship over here, take them to the others, and then disappear. I stay on the island, everyone else goss home. Win-win.

"Hey! I'm over here! Help!" I wave my arms, screaming at the top of my lungs. Maybe they don't speak English. What other languages do I know? "Konnichiwa! Ohio! Goodentag! Ciao! Ni hao! Bonjour! Aloha! Hola!"

The ship continues on its merry way. I growl and try a different approach.

"Arseholes! Get your stinking, rusty, no good piece of shit boat over to this damn island right now, you mother fuckers!" I scream as loud and angrily as I can.

I think insulting them won't help either. The ship disappears into the horizon again, leaving me standing atop a rock, face red, wearing no pants, and breathing like I just did a ten k run. Huffing in defeat, I take a step forward and start to make my way down the cliff face, back to my little fire. Anger simmers away in my chest as I climb down. Those arseholes. They could have just looked out to the left or right of their boat and spotted the island, maybe gotten out a telescope or whatever they'd have on the boat, and see me standing there, waving my arms, screaming for help.

Bitches. I hope they rot in –

I slip on some rocks and scream as I fall forward. I tumble down the cliff face, rocks jabbing into me. Pain shoots through my body, and I scream as I fall. There is a split second where I'm free falling, and I open my eyes to see a rock.

Crack!

My head hits the rock and I roll onto the beach. I try to sit up, but everything hurts and my vision is going blurry. As my eyes start to close, a shape comes into view, blocking out the sun.

"Mummy?" I mumble before darkness overtakes me.

I watched Alaska drag herself back up the sand bank, wet black hair clinging to her neck and back. I had been hated before; exes, best friends, ex-best-friends, enemies, frenemies, the works. But God, I realized as the words poured out of her mouth like venom, resentment and self-pity and detestation, all at once, she really, actually hates me. I hadn't understood. I didn't grasp what she was so angry about. I hadn't done anything to hurt her, or at least I hadn't thought so.

I remembered seeing her come down by the edge of the water through a lens of tears, and I remembered how in pain she looked. I had known that if I'd said anything, she'd know how pathetic I was being; crying for God's sake. But something in me just needed to say something to make her feel better, so stupidly and impulsively, I wiped my damn tears away (as if that would be enough to derail her suspicions) and called attention to myself. I thought kissing her would do the trick; she'd liked that before. I just couldn't stand seeing her so angry. But I guess I read her wrong. I guess all she really wanted was for me to "fucking leave her alone."

Anyway, it was like something hit me in the heart.

I slept through half of the next day. When I woke up, I washed up real well. Walked to the ocean and untangled my shirt from my shoulders. Dunked my face into the water, the salt stinging, water dripping off of my nose and the tendrils of my hair. Washed my face until the viscous tears that had clung to my eyes had all but disappeared. As I walked back to the hole where I'd hidden my duffel bag, I heard people talking. About the funeral and the body burning, which a few of the guys that had been hanging around the Med Station were trying to arrange. I hadn't seen the sister. I doubted she was in a suitable state to attend a funeral of any kind.

There was word about Gabriel; the guy who'd gone, as Blue said sometimes, bat-shit crazy. He was still tied to that tree, and I guess everybody was just trying to decide what to do with him. The two boys that had helped strap him to the tree—Holmes and Watson, I decided to call them—had been guards of sorts. People claimed that the two had been alternating shifts the entire night. I suppose they'd tied him up pretty well, because he was held in the exact same position I'd seen him in the day before. From what I'd heard, he hadn't said a word. The only thing he'd done, according to Watson, was make several unsuccessful attempts to escape.

When I'd changed into new clothing—a pair of blue jeans and a black Nike T-shirt that had been hiding in my bag—I decided Gabriel and I would have a chat.

I strolled over to the redwood where Holmes and Watson sat in the sand, eating some blackberries and splitting a granola bar. My stomach growled, and their heads turned my way. "What, you want some?" Watson inquired with a smirk, holding out a broken corner of the granola bar. Watson had an orange shade of hair, evenly cropped across the top. He was larger than me widthwise, but he wasn't fat. His eyes were squinty, and I saw a few blond hairs forming across his upper lip.

"No," I said. "No, thanks."

"What, you want to talk to him, then?" Watson questioned me further, making an empty gesture to Gabriel, mounted on the tree.

"Yeah, actually," I said, "I do. Alone." Watson looked to Holmes, who was badly sunburnt and had brown hair so short he was nearly bald. He had a triangular face that seemed to come to a point at the bottom. He turned to me, disregarding Watson's intent stare.

"What for?" Holmes asked. He had a southern accent.

"What does it matter, what for? Pick your asses up and beat it, boys. I'm talking to him whether you like it or not." I settled my hands on my hips.

To my short-lived satisfaction, they stood, brushing off the knees of their pants. "Don't blame me if you get killed," Watson said, before him and Holmes marched away. I shook my head, and maneuvered myself until I was facing Gabriel.

He was pale and lanky, freckles dotted across his angular face. His head was small, but his shaggy dark hair fell over his face like a wilted pompadour. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, outlined by identical shining bruises on both of his cheeks. His lip was split, and his tongue kept slithering out of his mouth to lick the blood away. His eyes were an icy blue. He met my eyes with a narrowed glower, head hung over the ropes and cords that X-ed over his torso and constricted his arms.

At first, I didn't know much of what I was going to say. And then, to my surprise, Gabriel drawled, "You been crying, hero?" The sound of his scratchy voice startled me. Unexpected rage boiled inside of me. When I didn't respond, he said, "I know you've been crying, I saw you crying."

I cleared my throat, maintaining my composure. "I thought you weren't talking," I remarked. He responded with a level stare, eyes darting back between each of my own eyes, as if he couldn't see both at once. He licked his lips. "That's what I thought," I said, and then, wiping my mouth, "So why'd you do it?" I let my arms drift upwards, and then back down, my pockets catching my hands like magnets.

"Do what?" He asked, his lip curling. "Kill her?" My eyes were steady, matching his stare. "Have you ever thought that maybe she attacked me first? Huh?" His smile disappeared, his face tightening in anger, and then loosening in innocence. "C'mon, man," he said, his voice rising an octave, almost pleading. "We're all in the same boat here, right?" My brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before my face settled again.

My muscles tightened. "You call running after her with a fucking machete self defense?" I marveled, practically spitting out the words.

He began to shake his head vehemently, his eyes showing fear. "No, man, you didn't see what she did to me. You didn't see what she did to me." His chin was trembling suddenly, his hands thrusting against the ropes. "Just let me go, man. Please. Let me go, alright? Let me go."

I shook my head in partial disgust, and half in bewilderment. I began to walk away. "No, wait," I heard from behind me, and then, more amplified, "No! Let me go!" I could hear the vibrational tension of the bungee cords as he tried desperately to get free. His voice became louder and higher in absolutely desperate, hopeless cries. "Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!"

His screaming drew the eyes of Holmes and Watson. They watched me with wide eyes as I walked by. "Watch him close," I told them calmly, never pausing in my stride. I walked purposefully, arriving at the Med Station promptly. I threw back the curtain and went inside abruptly with no warning. My bold entrance startled the people inside. There was a red-faced, tall boy with dark-chocolate brown hair that swept greasily over his forehead. He stood by the stacked cases full of medical equipment, organizing the objects; meticulously ordering them in rows. And then there was her, Alaska, sitting up on the edge of the make-shift bed, rewrapping her leg.

Both of their eyes jumped at my appearance. Stopping in front of the boy, I put my hand out, slightly out of breath. "I'm Chris."

Gaping a bit, he slowly took my hand. "Eddie."

I nodded, putting my hands on my hips. "Yeah well, Eddie?" I wiped sweat from my hairline. "We need to talk."

Eddie seemed to calm down, crossing his arms methodically over his chest. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I ran a hand through the back of my hair, and assertively began, "Tomorrow, there's gonna be a vote. On what to do with the kid that killed the girl—"

"Katelyn," Eddie broke in, looking at the ground. "Her name was Katelyn."

I chewed on my lip, rubbed the back of my neck. My face got hot. "Yeah," I said, and then shook my head, looking back at Eddie. "Anyway, there's gonna be a vote. Old fashioned ballot, that sort of thing. You either vote to let old Gabe go, or the other option, which we're gonna label as banishment."

Eddie's eyes narrowed. He shook his head. "Banishment? What—why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need your help." Eddie shook his head in bemusement. "You're well known around here, right? Medic, second-in-command, lieutenant, right? People know your name, know you got a good rep?" He didn't respond, but held my eyes, as if he knew where I was going. I nodded at him. "You're gonna have to help me convince everybody to vote against him. Shouldn't be too hard, right? Murder's kind of cut and dried. Even after his trial, I don't think anybody's gonna give him the benefit of the doubt and risk any more deaths."

"Trial?" Eddie asked.

I nodded resignedly. "Habeas corpus. A must-have, y'know. No trial, no creds." When he looked confused, I said, "Credentials. Someone finds Gabe facedown, dead in the middle of the forest, the last person they're gonna turn to is the guy that insisted Tom Robinson had a trial."

Eddie's eyebrows knitted together, and then his expression flattened. He spoke slowly. "What are you saying?"

I lowered my voice. "What I'm saying is, you and I—" I pointed between us, "—are gonna be the ones on clean-up crew when Gabe gets voted off the boat."

Still speaking steadily, furrowing his brow, Eddie questioned, "And what does that have to do with Gabe laying facedown, dead in the middle of the forest?"

I leaned closer to him, straightening my arms at my sides, my hands sheltered within the confines of my pockets. "Think about it. The trial goes smoothly. Majority votes Gabe gets banished. We lay out the scene to the other kids." I raise my arms and spread my hands apart in midair. "Eddie and Chris walk Gabe into jungle. It's real dark, real quiet, you know. Wind blowing in the trees, sun going down. Real eerie. We walk for a few miles, no trouble. That's where we stop the story, you follow?" Eddie's cheek flinched, but he gave no acknowledgement. I dropped my hands slowly.

"What we don't tell them; we turn Gabe around in the middle of the jungle. We tell him to look out at the sunset, standard George and Lennie, you follow? You pull the knife out of your pocket. " I put my hand in my pocket and took it out, mocking the event. "I make a funny joke. I didn't know you brought the knife, Ed. Funny you brought the knife. Then we stab him in the damn back; in the back, so he won't scream. Then we walk the other way."

At first Eddie seemed horrified, and then he took a breath, averting his eyes. "What if he's innocent? What if he just did it in self defense?"

"What if he isn't?" I said. "I don't want my sister to be next, Ed. I don't want to banish the dope and then have him sneaking back through the jungle and killing me or one of my friends when we're all asleep. And trust me," I said, pointing to where I had entered the tent, "I saw something in that guy's eyes. He's crazy." I thought about Blue in the middle of the jungle, everybody else at the beach. Banishment wasn't going to solve a thing.

Eddie took his chin in his fingers, and glanced around. I heard some shifting around to my right and behind me. Alaska. I fought hard to keep my eyes in front of me. And then, to my surprise, Eddie said in a low voice, "Okay. I'm in."

Before he changed his mind, I nodded. "The trial'll be tomorrow morning," I told him. "We should get word around." Eddie nodded, taking his cue to make his way to the exit of the tent. "Ed," I said. He looked over his shoulder. I put my finger vertically to my lips. Sshh. He nodded, his eyes passing over mine, and left.

I walked to the opening of the tent, slowly enough to catch a glimpse of her in my peripheral vision. I noted that her leg looked better. She was moving it around a lot as she wrapped it. Her nose was scrunched up slightly. Her hazel eyes were focused, and I noticed the pain that was still somewhere in them.

I was halfway through the door when I heard from behind me, "So you're gonna kill him?"

I turned my head halfway, still facing the door. "You gonna tell?"

A sigh. And then, casual, as if it was no big deal, "I don't know. Probably not. Unless I feel like it."

I nodded, looking down at the sand, tapping the wooden frame of the tent slowly with my hand. For some reason, I couldn't look at her. I couldn't stand the angry look in her eyes; I guess I didn't much like when people were mad at me in general (unless I had some previous intention of infuriating them).

A thought popped into my head, and I turned around suddenly, looking at her. I did drums hard on the makeshift doorframe, and then reached deep into my pocket. I yanked out my cell phone. "What are you doing?" she asked bitterly. She looked away from me, crossing her arms. I pressed the button to bring my phone to life. To my delight, the screen lighted up. 27% battery. "Your phone isn't gonna work, dumb-ass," she said.

Not being able to help it, I grinned. "Just because I don't got service doesn't mean it don't work, smart-ass." She snorted, her eyes falling to the ground. I walked up to her. She seemed a little less hot-headed today; after all, it had been a day since I had even said a word to her.

I squatted down until I was looking up at her face. Her curls were tucked behind her ears, her eyes directed off to the side. "Look," I said, my voice low, saying it real slow, "I swear to Jesus Christ, I am sorry."

It occurred to me I had no idea what the hell I was apologizing for, besides the fact that I was sorry that she was mad at me in general. I sat there on my heels for a while, my mouth slightly agape, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement. I wanted her to forgive me for whatever the hell I did. I could feel myself wanting her attention; I wanted her anger to dissipate before my eyes. Cradling her chin in her hand, looking the other way, her face carrying a pained expression, she said, "Just leave."

I hopped to my feet, smiling. I backed up a little. "Nope," I said, and then, "I got somethin' for you, sweetheart."

She darted her eyes to me, looking confused.

I shook my arms out and pretended to loosen up my shoulders. My eyes flitted to my phone, and I clicked the volume all the way up. I set my phone on the stack of suitcases nearby, just as "I Want You Back" by Jackson 5 started blaring through the speaker.

Her eyes kind of widened, probably horrified as I started to dance (pretty God-awfully terrible), bopping up and down, clapping on the beat. I danced like I did when I was warming up on the football field and some catchy song came on over the PA system. A little awkwardly, but at least slightly rhythmically. The bass guitar started in, and I came in with the drums, moving my hands like I had drumsticks. Her teeth clamped down hard on her bottom lip to keep from smiling.

When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around
Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd
But someone picked you from the bunch, one glance was all it took
Now it's much too late for me to take a second look

I mouthed along to the words, pretending I was singing the song, putting my hand on my chest and half-closing my eyes and making the appropriate hand gestures. Alaska bit the inside of her cheek. "You gonna dance, Laska?" I asked over the music. She forced the corners of her mouth to flatten into an emotionless expression.

Oh baby, give me one more chance
(To show you that I love you)
Won't you please let me back in your heart
Oh darlin', I was blind to let you go
(Let you go, baby)
But now since I see you in his arms
(I want you back)
Yes I do now
(I want you back)
Ooh ooh baby
(I want you back)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
(I want you back)
Na na na na

"Your dance moves're as bad as your integrity," she said over the music, but a smile crept up on her face. I laughed, big and loud at this, pausing mid-dance and then continuing, shaking my shoulders and mimicking some Michael Jackson and Elvis Presley moves. Alaska covered her face with her hands, but peeked through her fingers. I pointed at her at I want you back and did a "Risky Business" slide, spraying up sand.

I put my hands behind my head and began to swivel my hips. Alaska burst out in laughter suddenly, a big and bubbly, shameless laugh, her eyes squinting up. Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to stifle it, but to no avail. This made my eyes crinkle and the corners of my mouth turn up. My tongue stuck out of the corner of my mouth as I started to do the running man, which only made her laugh harder. She tossed her head back, her curls falling out of her face, her hand hung up in front of her. My chest got warm inside, and I couldn't help smiling.

Carlisle


"Hey, buddy," James slaps me on the back as he comes to stand beside me. "Whatcha doing all alone over here?"

"It's my daughter's first birthday today," I stare at the ocean blankly. "And I'll never get to see her again."

James turns me around so that I'm facing him. "Car, don't do this to yourself, what happened was an accident. You can't change anything either," he bites his lip as I focus on his face. His dark eyes hold the sorrow only a grieving person can hold. "I miss Lilly and Wade, but I won't let that stop me from surviving."

I furrow my brow. "You don't understand. I won't ever get to see my daughter again. My only daughter, the only thing in this world that can make my existence worth it," I snap. "You're enjoying this, because you're playing king."

"Join me at my throne, then," James narrows his eyes.

"You know what?" I shrug his hands off my shoulders. "I'm done. I refuse to play your mind games, and I refuse to let you control me."

I turn around and start walking toward the jungle.

"What about everyone else?" James calls.

"Fuck everyone else!" I throw over my shoulder.

"You'll be back! I know you will!" James yells after me. "You care too much to just walk away!"

That was the day James went crazy and started killing the other survivors. He wasn't the only one. Half my crew, and some of the passengers. All from some sort of meat, I'm sure. And they all died, leaving me alone. The only thing I kept with me after that day was the fact that James was right. I did go back, but I was too late.

Growling, I shake my head and look around for Saph and Chris. It's been the best of an hour, and they should be here. Standing up, I leap from branch to branch until I get to where I left Chris with Saph. They're not there. Maybe they went back to the beach. I don't blame them. It is a lot for Saph to take in. But she hates people, why would she go back?

After staring at nothing for a moment, thinking, I decide to go to the beach. I'm sure that if I can spot Chris, Saph won't be too far behind. And as long as she's safe, and I could keep an eye on her from in the jungle, I'll be okay with it.

The branches tremble as I run across them, making my way toward the beach. I keep an eye out in case I spot them walking through the jungle. Finally, I get to the beach and look around for Saph. I spot Chris, and my heart jumps when I spot Saph beside him. Wait, that's not my daughter. My eyes scan the beach, but I don't spot Saph anywhere. My gaze turns to Chris, and a growl rumbles in my chest.

If he left her alone, I'm going to kill him.

I decide to get a bird's eye view of the island, see if Saph is anywhere she shouldn't be, or see if she's safe. I'm hoping the latter, because if she's in harm's way, Chris is going to pay dearly. I cast one more glare at Chris and the beach before turning back to the jungle and making my way to my home tree.

It doesn't take long for me to reach the tree and climb to the very top. I put my fingers to my lips and whistle loudly. I don't have to wait long before a large shadow falls over me, and a loud shriek fills the air. I lift my arm and a great weight lands on it. I stare into the dark eyes of the giant bird of prey that took me ten years to befriend.

"Hello Legolass," I smile. Every time I say the name I gave him, I smile. I'd always been a fan of Lord of the Rings, and the elves were my favourite. "I have a request for you. I need you to search the island for the girl I'd taken a few days ago. The one I had in the tree. She's missing. I need you to locate her for me. Can you?"

Legolass blinks at me for a second before opening his wings to take off. He soars into the air. I kneel down on the branch I'm perched on, and wait.

While I wait, I preoccupy myself by crawling down to the mass of branches I've turned into my home, and start fixing things up. I tighten the vines holding the walls of the little house up, and add more leaves to the thatched roof. I fix up my bed of leaves, and then climb back to the top of the tree and wait for Legolass. I spot him wheeling toward me from the south of the island, and I hold my arm up in the air for him, letting him know I've seen him.

Legolass glides over and lands on my forearm. He has something in his talons, and holds them out for me. I lift my other hand and he drops some strands of hair into my palm. The strands are long and course, and a deep shade of black. The strands of hair are from an animal. A horse.

She's with the damn horse.

I give Legolass a mouse, and let him fly away. I glare at the strands of hair in my hand, before clenching my fists and dropping down to the floor of my little tree house. I place the strands of hair on the floor beside my bed, and turn around to where I hang my different capes of leaves. I grab the one that I use when travelling on the ground, and swap it for the one on my back. Now I need to find Chris and pummel him for letting my daughter put herself in danger.

My decent is swift, and I hit the jungle floor with a loud thud. Straightening, I square my shoulder and start running in the direction of the meadow. I skirt all the way around it until I reach the cliff edge. I can just make out the cove – the only piece of beach along the cliff side of the island – and squint as I search for movement. Nothing.

Turning around, I make my way back through the jungle, and to the old village made fifteen years ago. I hate coming back here, I'm always reminded of what happened, and how I was too late to save anyone. Shaking my head to clear it, I search the huts but don't spot anything that would indicate Saph is here. Nothing again.

Right then. To the beach. Time to find Chris. I march back through the jungle and make my way over to the beach, where the survivors from the plane crash are. I watch them from the jungle, eyes narrowed. No way can I just walk out of here and grab Chris, these kids would flip their shit. I need to wait for nightfall. I'll grab him while he sleeps. And then he's going to help me find Saph.

God, I hope she's okay.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes snap open and I jump to my feet, eyes wide. I'd bloody fallen asleep. Great. Walking over to the edge of the jungle, I peer through the trees toward the beach, but I can't find Chris anywhere. Ah well, I blame my age. Damn, I must be getting old.

Spinning around, I decide to go for a romp through the jungle. Also, I want to see if Chris is in here so I can give him a good beating. That damn boy. I trusted him to keep my daughter safe, and now she's in the worst danger possible. That damn horse. I should have killed her when I had the chance.

"Oi, Car!" James yells.

"What?" I lift my eyes and narrow them at him.

"Check it out!" James points through the trees. Light filters through the branches, and I can't help but gasp. "Looks like a meadow or something."

"Sure it does," I roll my eyes. "I bet there are unicorns and bunnies hopping around."

"Car, quit with the sarcasm," James slaps my shoulder as he strolls passed. "And if you're gonna be all Irish on me, at least add in leprechauns."

"I could hit you right in the fucking nose," I mutter darkly as I follow him.

We walk through the trees and sure enough, they disappear to reveal a large, vast expanse of grass. I think the only word to describe it is a meadow. The evening sun has turned the grass golden, and it all looks so inviting.

"Let's go see if we can find something to eat," James starts walking forward, recovering from his trance.

"Sure, let's go eat the fluffy bunnies and the unicorns," I bite out.

"While we're at it, we'll eat the leprechaun too," James leers over his shoulder.

"Okay, that's it!" I rush forward to punch James in the face, but I stop.

"Car?" James stares at me and then turns around to look at what I've spotted. We stare in shock when I spot it. When we spot him.

"Well at least you were half right about the unicorns," James chuckles.

The stallion stands tall, head held high, ears forward. He watches us with large eyes, not moving, just staring. James doesn't seem phased by the stare, and decides to huff and walk away. Damn Australians. But for some reason, I can't take my eyes away from him. I know absolutely nothing about horses, but I will say that this one is the most magnificent creature I've ever seen.

He's tall, with a black and white streaked mane and tail, with a creamy white face, and a pale grey coat. It looks blue, actually. I knew someone that would be able to identify the coat colour and breed within a second. And she'd say something witty, but all I can say is:

"Wow!" I breathe.

The blue stallion lowers his head and turns around to walk away. And I'm reminded of the patched mare back at the beach, how her owner won't let anyone touch her. I wonder if this stallion will go after the mare.

Shaking my head to clear it, I pause in my tracks at the sounds of footsteps. I turn around to see a girl standing behind me. Her eyes widen in confusion and shock, and I stare back, face mirroring hers.

"Wh-who are you?" She stammers.

Uh-oh. I can't escape now. I rub the back of my head sheepishly and try to smile. This can't end well.

Days had passed since Jackie and the muscular Navy Seal guy had talked to me in the jungle. I thought I heard him say his name was Elvis, but I doubted I'd heard correctly. Those were some big shoes to fill; being named after Elvis Presley. Chris had a poster of him in his closet, way up high in the right corner, its orange corners peeling off the wall, the C in King of Creole faded and nearly invisible. He never talked about it, but it wasn't difficult to tell he was a fan. He'd try to do Elvis impressions sometimes. By no means was he good at them.

Kameron had found the ax. I had no idea who had brought it, or where he'd found it, but we put it to use almost immediately. As it turned out, cutting down a tree was more labor-intensive than anyone would have expected. By the end of yesterday, my muscles were weak and straining, and I felt like I belonged on one of those nature shows, interviewing with Bear Grylls about how "I'm one with the wilderness".

Some part of me believed the events since the crash were making me insane. I even talked to a tree one time. I'd been smashing the blunt tip of the ax into the chipped bark, thinking about baseball, and suddenly I just said, "I think the Cubs got a real shot this year." Then I looked up and saw nothing but the stoic pole of a tree trunk, looming overhead. Well, damn, I thought.

Kameron and I worked on the raft all day. We didn't say much of anything to each other. When we did talk, he told long stories about his five-man band back home, and I mostly listened. Every once in a while, I'd say something. Nothing really, but something; a thoughtless comment, anything to keep him talking. Otherwise, I didn't much know what to say. But anything was better than the silence that swept across the beach like a breeze; it never went away, but just circulated and filled all of the empty spaces.

"When does rescue usually come?" He asked one time. His face was badly sunburnt, and shone out from under his mop of hair.

"Before now," I said. "We're screwed."

"Nah, man," he insisted, "don't say that. Land can't be that far off. We get this into the water, send for rescue? Everything will be just fine."

I shook my head, tying a bungee cord tightly around a bundle of bamboo. "Not fine," I said. "Just 'cause we're safe don't mean we're fine." His eyebrows knitted together, and then he continued working; lining long branches up against one another until I would come over and tie them together. Nobody liked a pessimist. I knew that. But it wasn't exactly easy to stay positive in a shithole like this.

Chris would make it easier. He always made it easier.

I shut him out of my mind. I didn't need him right now. I didn't need him, or anyone else. I pulled the rope taut, the tendons in my bicep tightening. I tied it in a square knot. Ain't no way this baby's comin' untied. My hands reached for the next grouping.

"Just like sailin'," Pa said, his auburn irises crinkled under smiling eyelids, close enough I could reach out and grab them if I tried. His eyes sparkled. He reached between his bent knees and touched my toes. I took the laces in my hands, tied them tighter. The bow looked like the one on the dress that hung in Mama's closet.

"That's a good man, Louis, that's a good man."

Mama walked in the back door, carrying a tote of clean clothes. "Parking lot by the laundromat's filled with them filthy boats. You'd think your daddy—" she bent down and caressed her hand over my cheek. I could smell smoke. "—would sell his filthy boat so we'd have a bit more money." She patted my cheek. I shrunk my head away. My cheek didn't like being patted.

"Right, Daddy?" She put her hands on her hips and looked at my father, her voice soft.

Pa looked up at her. The crinkles in his eyes suddenly drooped as he exhaled, looking tired. The expression of elation left his face. "You know I can't sell Mary. I mean, she's a queen, for Godsake."

My mother hit my father on the shoulder. "She ain't a queen, she's a boat. And my boy ain't gonna grow up tyin' knots all his life, now is he?" She pinched my cheek lovingly. "Say 'no ma'am'."

"No, ma'am," I said.

Papa caught my eye, and smiled sadly. "No, ma'am, he ain't," he said to Mama. He ruffled my hair and stood creakily to his feet. "He's gonna go to school, and he's gonna become a good, workin' man, aren't you, Louis?"

"Yes sir," I said.

I sat down and took a break, pouring water down my throat from one of the bottles we'd collected. There was no organization. It was first come-first serve, and I foresaw that by sunrise tomorrow, we'd be in a rough predicament.

"Hey," I heard from behind me. I swiveled my head to lay eyes on a young biracial kid, standing firmly in the sand, his legs spread shoulder-width. His hair was black and curly, and he looked to be only about ten or eleven. My heart jumped. What's a ten year old doing here on the island? The kid's expression furrowed. "You're not my brother," he said, obviously bemused, and more than slightly disappointed.

I took another drink from my water. "Yeah well. All us black folk look alike." Kameron had gone to take a bathroom break; I hadn't seen him since five minutes ago. I raised my bottle in his direction. "I can be your brother, if you like."

The kid was wearing dark khakis and a sweatshirt. I had a hard time believing that he was at all comfortable, considering the sun that beat down upon my neck. He hesitated, and then came before me, standing several feet away. I squinted up at him. "Where're you from, a little boy like you?"

"Detroit," he told me.

"You come on the plane?"

His voice went quiet. "With my brother. Santos. He wouldn't leave me alone at home." His eyes wandered at the memory. A mixture of empathy and sympathy swirled in my chest. "Is he dead?" the kid asked me. His face contorted suddenly, before righting itself to the dam that held back all the tears.

"Don't know," I responded honestly, not wanting to face the question of death. "What's your name?" I asked.

"Roman," he said, staring at me. He took a step away, stumbling in the sand. "And I'm not a little boy." I nodded.

"C'mere," I beckoned. I was sitting on a bundle of bamboo, my knees bent. Something tugged on my heart as Roman walked to me, nearly tripping once, the sand making hills around his sneakers. He stopped a foot before me.

"Who are you?" he asked me, his eyebrows moving together.

"My name's Lou, like Lou Gherig." I took his wrist slowly and moved it atop the rope that coiled above the logs. "Can you tie?"

"I guess. Can I help, then?" He sounded hopeful. I gave him a wide grin, and reached out to shake his shoulder.

"'Course you can, Ro."

He reached out for the rope, and then suddenly pulled back, his face shrinking into a serious frown. "If I help, you gotta help me find him."

My grin faded. I thought of Chris. "Aright," I said. "Aright, deal."

~*~

The raft was coming along. It didn't nearly have enough size to carry a person, but it felt progressive nonetheless. Two long groupings of bamboo lined the sides of the boat, and we'd spent long hours layering the sticks across the base. Vertical, horizontal, vertical, repeated in succession. The bed was thick and sturdy. Unfortunately, progress had become slower. The heat was more excruciating, and the only water we had came from a stream a few people had found in the forest. We had to lug bottles back and forth from the river to the beach. Nobody wanted to work. We all just wanted to leave.

"Can't you help me find him yet?" Roman stood beside me, and I whittled a Swiss Army knife I'd found the night before between the thread of the seam on his sweatshirt shoulder. I sliced off the arm of his sweatshirt, leaving his skinny arm bare. He turned so I could do the other side. Sweat perspired beneath his eyes. He looked down at the knife, raising his arms at the appropriate times.

"Yeah, soon," I said, tossing both pieces of gray fabric onto the ground. We both sat down on a rock adjacent to the ocean. The waves crawled up the shore to meet us. He turned to me abruptly.

"Well when?" His face looked angry, and afraid. I put my arm around him. He pushed my arm away and shook his head. "You don't care about me," he remarked. He stood to his feet, stalking away.

"Hey," I called, not wanting to lose him. Ro spun around to face me, throwing his head back, and his shoulders forward, a childish and dramatic position. He didn't know where else to go, I knew. "Tomorrow," I said, "I promise, Ro, soon as day breaks. Then we'll find him."

He sat down beside me yet again, rather quickly. "Promise?"

"I a'ready said I promised."

He turned his head, his brown eyes looking into mine. His arms curled around his knees. The wind weaved in throughout his curls, brushing them back.

"Did you lose someone, too?" he asked suddenly, as if he knew, his voice rising in curiosity.

"Yeah," I said after a hesitation. "Yeah, I lost my brother, too."

Ezzie, to say the least, was tired. After trekking through the forest, smacking thousands of mosquitos off of her skin, she was sure she could make constellations from the little puffy red bumps. Not to mention her clothes were wet, her knees were dirty, and she was hungry.

With a small pocket knife found in the medical tent, Ezzie cut different plants from the ground. She wasn't sure how long she had been at it, but it had to have been a while. Still, as the sunlight was dimming and the thrumming call of savage, beastly animals in the wild threatened, Ezra hacked at a Valerian plant, cutting away the white flowers.

Before she knew it, it was dark. Shit.

With barely any light to see by, she doubled back, to the airplane wreckage, still empty of the carnivorous primate prowlers.

Quickly, clutching the shirt-turned-satchel to her chest, she scurried through the aisles of the plane, stopping at the Flight Attendant's area, finding a small closet into hide herself in for the night. After inspecting it, Ezra realized that it was locked. Sighing, she kicked it, and then allowed herself another quick walk-through of the wreckage. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere except the closet. She tried forcing it open, but of all of the things that should have held together on the dumbass plane, it was this goddamn closet .

She sighed. Breaking the door would be a bad idea, but what else did she have? Human-eating monkeys could eat her. There was also that huge ass cat running around. Ezzie needed to get these plants back to the beach, there was no way she was letting herself- and her baby- die a horrible death. She jammed the knife into the crack of the closet door, and pried it open. With the rest of the space she made by widening the gap, she shoved her fingers in and pulled it open. Her fingers started bleeding. Ouch. She wiped those on her shirt, then decided to use some of the yarrow she collected previously to stop the blood if it became too much. She also would need to explain to the other guy from the med tent, Eddie, how to make poultices and teas from the plants to help out.

Eventually, the door came open with a small crack. It wasn't too damaged, and after fiddling with it for a moment, determined that ripping off strips of her shirt would assist in closing off the door again. She shoved the cloth in between the door and the jamb, then used the opening at the bottom of the door to yank it closed. At least it wouldn't be left open. Then, she tore off another strip of cloth from her sleeve and wrapped it around her fingers.

Finally, Ezzie searched the space, finding a shallow room with a spare pair of women's clothing hanging from a rod. Someone's locker. Balling the clothes up and shoving the umder her head was a little tough, but the cotton cardigan made a decent enough pillow.

With the makeshift pillow underhead, Ezzie allowed herself to doze off.


When she awoke, something was wrong. Sunlight streamed against her face, but she felt a stabbing pain in her abdomen. The baby.

Fear brought tears to her eyes. That baby is the only leg left of Elvis that she had. She couldn't lose it, too. But God had other plans. A scream tore from Ezzie's throat as something began clawing around inside of her. Her baby was trying to get out.

And after a moment, it's claws pierced through her stomach, creating a hole to crawl out of. Bloody and much larger than it should be, the baby bared it's fangs at it's mother and hissed. Then it growled, a deep guttural grunt that sounded like it was calling to her, "Mama".

It crawled jerkily to her, then latched it's mouth onto her skin, sinking it's fangs into her flesh. Instead of drinking her milk, the baby was drinking her blood. Ezzie slowly raised her hand and placed it on the baby's bald skull, jokingly thinking that she gave birth to Nosferatu, and stroked it. "Meine Liebling." She muttered, "Ich liebe dich."

Then she lay her head back on the grass and let the monster drink away her life.

Waking up from her nightmare, in the dark room, Ezzie heard the soft thump of something heavy stalking through the aisles. It was still too dark to see, but she felt around for her knife and opened it, ready to strike should the door open.

And it did. Ezzie lashed out with the knife, slashing madly at her attacker. Not that she could do much damage against flesh-eating primates, but damn it, she was gonna try. If the fucker ended up eating her throat, then she at least wanted it's eye in return. But her attacker didn't screech madly and claw at her, as she expected it, it said in a rather deep Irish accent, "Whoa there," and placed a warm HUMAN hand on her wrist.

She calmed immediately. "Tarzan? First it was vampyre babies, and now it's Tarzan." She reached up and pinched her cheek. "Tell me I'm dreaming!"

"Hey, kid, calm down. You know there are many predators out here? Be calm, quiet."

Ezra sighed, "I'm sorry. How did you know I was in there?"

The man's nose twitched. "Smelled you." Ezzie winced. She hadn't had a bath in a while, but she didn't think she smelled that bad.

"I'm Ezra." She murmured, "Apologies for trying to cut your eye out."

"No worries, kid. I'm Carlisle. Listen, I can give you somewhere safe to stay for the rest of the night- but only if you help me with something."

Ezzie's face crinkled, "dude no! I'm only 16!" She was cherry-faced, and ready to pull out the knife again.

"I need you to find someone! Jesus. Get yer mind out of the gutter, child."

Embarrassed, Ezzie nodded, "Who?"

He softened, "My daughter."

Saph


There seems to be nothing but darkness. No sound, no light, no self awareness, just darkness. A small light blinks into existence, followed by another, and another. The lights twinkle and wink mockingly, as though they know all the answers to the world, and are purposely keeping everything to themselves. Selfish little lights. One starts to grow larger, brighter. I no time it has grown, nearly blocking out the darkness. I'm cautious of this growing light. Is it good or bad? Before I can make judgement, the light hits me and the world lights up.

"Saph, can you please get some eggs," Mum asks as she pours over the shopping list.

"Yup," I spin around and bound down the aisle to where the eggs are. I grab a carton and skip back over to Mum, who has a large frown on her face. "Eggs!"

"In the trolley," Mum scratches her head. "Do we need sugar?"

"Yes," I nod enthusiastically.

"Saphire, do we?" Mum gives me a stern look.

I pause and think about it. "No," I shake my head. "Can we get some Milo?"

"Maybe, we have a budget though," Mum spins around to glare at the vegetables behind her. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Cauliflower soup!" I exclaim, bouncing up and down.

"Done," Mum grabs the cauliflower, and puts it in the trolley. "Corn flour. We need that next."

"I can get it!" I beam and race off. I scoot down to the aisle that holds the flours and whatnot, and look for corn flour. I spot the yellow box with the funny lady on it and grab it. Just in case I've mixed this box up with another yellow box, I turn to the nearest person to check. It's a man with a very perplexed expression on his face. Is this what it's like to shop as an adult? "Excuse me."

He looks down at me. "Err ... Yeah?" His perplexed expression only grows.

"Is this corn flour?" I ask him.

He looks at the box and nods, smiling. "It is," he confirms. "Um, you wouldn't happen to know where the organic stuff is, would you?"

"Yep, next aisle down," I point in the general direction.

"Thanks," the man smiles at walks away.

Darkness swallows the image of the stranger walking away. So I'm helpful, even when it comes to complete strangers. Okay. So does this mean the lights are ... Memories? My consciousness considers the second one as it starts to grow larger and larger. And once again, my world lights up.

Four tall boys stand in front of me, eyes narrowed dangerously. I stand straight and glare right back, fear making my heart beat faster, but I don't let it show. The three boys don't back down, clearly unimpressed by my stance and size.

"Isn't there someplace you gotta be, McCormine?" The tallest of the trio growls.

"Nope," I smirk. "But your Mum called you before, I heard her. Maybe you babies should go home."

"Don't push it, McCormine," the one on the left sneers. "You don't even know the kid."

"Maybe not, but I know he doesn't deserve to be bullied by you three," I narrow my eyes.

"We're not bullying him, we're giving him a warm, Aussie welcome," the middle boy chuckles.

"Nope," I shake my head.

The boy on the right tries to grab me to push me out the way, buti lash out. My fist hits his hand away, and instantly the three boys leap into action. I dodge and duck under poorly aimed punches, and take a swing at the boy closest. My fist hits his cheek, and he cries out in pain. I spin around and kick the other boy in the stomach. He gasps and stumbles back. The next boy tries to take me by surprise, but we don't let him. I jump to the side and grab his arm, pulling him forward and elbowing him in the guts before spinning around and punching him right in the nose. He cries and stumbles away.

"Jeez, McCormine," the boy that I'd punched in the cheek growls out, and helps his fallen friends up.

"I told you I won't let you bully him, or anyone for that matter," I spit.

They limp and stumble away, and I spin around to find a boy my height staring at me with his mouth hanging open. I chuckle and hold out my hand.

"I'm Saphire, but call me Saph," I tell him.

"Bo," he takes my hand and I shake it. "How did you do that?"

"Army cadets, and a few martial arts classes," I grin. "Where are you from?"

A blush crawls up Bo's cheeks. "California, my family moved here a few weeks ago," he tells me.

"Cool," I beam at him. "Well, if ever you want to hang out, I'll happily show you around the school."

He smiles softly. "Thanks Saph," he says, and turns around to walk away.

There is a huge smile on my face as I turn around and walk in the opposite direction.

The light fades out and I'm left with the three blinking lights again. That one was interesting. So I'm ... Fearless, and a good fighter. And I was an army cadet, whatever that means. I wonder what the last light holds. I push my consciousness toward it, and it grows. The light encompasses the darkness and I find myself in the last memory.

Run!" Chris yells. "Blue, go!"

I didn't want to leave him, but my feet ignored my brain. They carried me fast and blindly through the forest. Through leaves and branches, my skin and clothes torn apart by thorns and sticks. I run and run, and suddenly, my brain catches up, and I stop.

Where the hell am I?

Looking around, I realise I don't recognise anything. I turn around to see a faint line from my crashing through the forest. I start back that way at a jog when a scream reaches my ears. I stop, head tilted to the side. I can feel my fear prickling away under my skin, adrenalin pumping through my veins. A sound vibrates through my body, and I start in surprise.

Did I just ... Growl?

Beside me, the leaves shimmer. Another growl shudders through my body, the leaves trembling from the sound. No, I didn't growl. But whatever did is bloody huge.

A pair of black nostrils push their way through the leaves, followed by a huge, ape like face. My mouth goes dry, my heart stops, and my stomach twists into an intricate knot. The huge monkey, bigger than a baboon even, climbs out of the forest to snarl at me. Its dark eyes fixate on me, and moves slowly down to the ground. It stands near my shoulder height on two legs, and at my hips on all fours. Sharp, yellow teeth are flashed at me as the monkey growls for the third time.

"Fuck my life," I breathe and jolt into my fastest sprint yet.

The monkey crashes behind me, hideous, gutteral sounds escaping its gaping mouth. I know normal people would be screaming at this point, but my mind is too focused on staying on my track and figuring out a way to lose the monkey. I see a thin spiral of black smoke rising in the air. Abandoning my initial trail, I change direction, leaping over a large log and fall through some vines. I yelp as I hit the ground and scramble to my feet, looking up as the monkey crashes through the vines after me.

My feet are moving again, and when I face my new trail, my breath hitches in my throat. I skid to a stop and fall onto my backside. The hunting knife is in my hand in an instant, but I don't get to use it.

The panther snarls and leaps, her streamline body sailing over mine. Her claws are extended and her jaw is wide open. Her teeth clamp down on the monkey's face, her claws ripping into its flesh.

Without a moment to lose, I push myself to my feet, stitches forming in my side, shoulder and chest. A sob wracks through my body as the pain sears through my body. I sprint as fast as I can toward the remnants of the plane. As I crash through the trees and into the unnatural clearing, all the monkeys look up at me, and snarl.

"Oh shit," I manage through gasping breaths.

They all lunge at me. The knife flashes in my hand as I slice through the first money, and the second. The third collides with me, teeth snapping for my neck. I kick it in the stomach, my knife slashing at its face. Blood splatters over my body as the monkey falls on me, dead. I kick it off me and jump to my feet. The rest of the monkeys are staring at me, hissing and snarling. Slowly, I edge around them, bloody blade gripped tightly in my hand. They watch me, and when I'm at familiar trees, I spin around and bolt. For the third time today I'm running for my life, but this time I can feel every leaf and twig snapping over my skin, every root and rock that stabs into my feet, and every jagged breath that enters and leaves my lungs. Everything hurts, and tears stream down my face, mingling with the blood. Everything hurts so much, but the sound of the monkeys behind me pushes me forward.

"Blue?!" Chris's voice reaches my ears, and I cry out in joy.

The darkness steals away the light, and the three lights seem to grow smaller, as though they're running away from me. Well, I've learnt three things about myself. I'm helpful, even to strangers, I'm fearless and I'm fit as hell. Or maybe four things, I can kick arse. But who am I really? What am I? Why do I exist? I feel nothing, and all I see is darkness and the three twinkling lights. Are they really memories, or dreams?

Pain flares in my consciousness from all the questions, and if I could have gasped, I would have. Suddenly, sensations make the darkness waver. I feel something course and scratchy, I can feel something soft and cold, and searing pain. Why do I feel so much pain?

With a gasp, my eyes snap open. I'm staring up at the canopy of pale green trees, patches of blue and sunlight filtered through the prickly leaves. The course and scratchy feeling is under my back and legs. I move my hands across the surface to find that I'm lying on a bed of dry grass. The cold, soft feeling is a cool breeze washing over my body. And the pain! Holy shit the pain is my everything. Very slowly and carefully, I brace all my weight on my hands and push myself into a sitting position. I cry out and lean forward to dry retch. Sobs wrack through my body at the flare of stabbing pain in my arms, chest and legs. My head is worse, and when I lift it off my knees, everything sways, and another bout of nausea washes through me.

I look at my legs. There are bruises all over them, and a bad scrape on my right thigh. My arms are similar, with scratches all up my right arm. Come to think of it, the right side of my body hurts the most. I put a hand to my head and groan in pain. My right eye feels puffy and my cheek is stiff. I hope nothing is broken, because then I'd be really screwed.

Running my hands over my legs, arms and across my ribs, I come across plenty more bruises, but thankfully no breaks. How the hell did I end up like this? Did the monkeys get me? This doesn't look like something an animal could do, though. It's more of the result from falling. Shit, what did I do?

A sound makes me turn my head to find a patches horse staring at me. I blink in surprise. The horse just stares at me. We stay like this for a while, just staring.

"Hi," I croak out, voice scratchy and hoarse – pun not intended. "I'm Saphire, but call me Saph. You must be Chris."

The horse snorts and walks away.

"Okay," I nod. "Come back soon Chris!" I call after her.

I didn't know how long we'd been wandering around, but I could see the dim light of the sun glowing through the trees on top of us. Soon, it would be dark, and we'd have to find a safe place to rest.

"So, about, you know, um..." his voice startles me slightly, because it must've been over an hour since either of us had said a word. "...why you don't like guys."

I glance over at him sharply, and mutter with a scowl, "I told you-"

"-I know what you told me," he cuts me off, and I hear the rustling of leaves cease from behind me, where he'd been walking. I stop, and turn to glare at him. "But I told you everything. About my child. My Ezzie. My life. Do you know how much I'm trusting you with? Yet you're still acting like...like..."

"Like what, Elvis?" I snap, and furrow my brows more, if that was even possible, "what do you want me to do, huh? Tell you my life story?"

He didn't respond to this, but in the small light trickling through open spaces in the sky, I could see his cheeks heat up slightly; was he embarrassed? I'd never seen a man flushed before from something he'd said.

"My mother died during child birth. Father was broke. Didn't know what to do with me. Thought the best route was to sell me to a bald man with twinkling eyes. I've been bought, I've been raped, beaten, forced to do things that your mind couldn't even imagine, Elvis," the words tumbled out, as if they'd been waiting this whole time to, "I don't remember a time that a man or a woman, who, believe me, were surprisingly worse than the men sometimes, was on top of me. I don't remember a fucking time that I was innocent, pure, clean, safe. So tell me, sir, what the hell do you want from me? What the hell am I supposed to do? What else do you want to know? That I can never trust a man again? So what does that tell you about yourself? You're a man, right? So why am I telling you this? Why am I telling you this? Please, Elvis, why am I telling you this?"

He seemed shock; his mouth hung open, and his eyes glittered in the dimming light. He seemed speechless. I decided not to waste my time anymore.

"I don't know where your fucking girlfriend is," I growl, and stalk off in a completely different direction, hoping he didn't follow. "I've got better things to worry about."

And I was surprised, slightly, to find that he didn't follow me.

I took off at a sprint, then, whizzing past dark trees and thickets two sizes larger than myself. Licking my lips, I realized that there was nothing to cool them; my spit was almost non-existent. My breaths were sharp and jagged, and I felt like my heart was trying to break free from my chest. I almost wished it would. I waited. It didn't. I almost felt disappointed, then I thought better of it.

As I pushed myself further, past my limits, I felt something build in my chest. Something unrecognizable. Something I couldn't describe, except for lonely; lonely, painful, unreal. I didn't even know if it was something someone could actually feel.

I didn't know how much farther my feet carried me, because it seemed only seconds later that I was laying face first in the ground, soaking the soil with my own tears. I didn't like the feeling it gave me. I felt weak, pathetic, useless, stupid-

"-yeah, that's what you are," he growls, and tossses a red-colored towel in her direction-- she instantly knew, as she caught it deftly, that this wasn't the original color of the cloth, "Stupid. Go clean your damn self, girl. Otherwise nobody will want you. Remember that. If you're ugly and covered in dirt and blood, nobody will want to talk to you and I won't make any money."

Although, 'talk' actually meant 'take advantage of', she kept her lips sealed tightly, as if something would fall out if she opened them.

"Hello? What're you staring at? Go, before I change my fucking mind," he snarls, and the girl blinks suddenly, aware of her surroundings. She turns away, and drags her feet down the hall, "that's what I thought. I- what? Yeah, yeah, Charles..."

His voice drifts off in the other direction, and as soon as she reached the small, stuffy bathroom, she locks the door and launches herself at the small window. It was screwed shut, but she didn't care. With her fist, she pounded on the glass, determined to free herself of this godforsaken place. Apparently, this guy didn't have much experience with handling girls like her, otherwise he would've put a man with no remorse in the bathroom with the girl to make sure she didn't pull anything.

She wasn't sure how long she stood on the edge of the bathtub, pounding on the window, before banging from the other side of the door reached her ears and the feeling of pain circulated to her hand. She blinked, then began to climb the wall, forcing her head out of the flurry of broken glass. Pain singed her entire body as she fell out of the other side, cool air rushing over her body.

Just as she'd promised, Jackie was crouched by the side of the building, her head tucked between her legs. At the sound of the small girl hitting the ground with a painful 'thud', Jackie snapped her head up, ready to either fight or escape.

Realization hit her, and she launched herself forward, pulling Jan to her feet and dragging the bruised girl behind her.

"How hard was it?" Jackie breathed out as they sprinted down a dark alley. "Escaping, I mean?"

Jan lifted her gaze from her bloodied hands, and in a quiet voice, said, "Piece of cake."

And, really, it was. But the memories of the unspoken voices and shattered hearts, still lingering in that closet-like-bedroom, still made her feel like she'd made a mistake.

**********************

I woke up-- though I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep-- to blinding sunlight and the crackling of something unfamiliar. With a grunt, I push myself from the extremely uncomfortable ground (it was even worse than the decade old twin size mattress I'd shared with six other girls before) and take in my surroundings with weak eyes.

Green leaves drifted towards the ground, as if it were a magnet, and the soft breeze whispered, "How're you feeling?"

I sat on my knees for several minutes before I realized that the wind couldn't speak, and an actual, human being could.

Duh.

Twisting around sharply, though that was a mistake because a sharp pain shot up my spine (come to think of it, I make a lot of mistake, which was unfortunate), and meet the clear, gray eyes of the guy I'd abandoned yesterday. Now that I'd been away from him for several hours (or, I think it was hours, but who knows?), I could see the ragged, rough look to him; as if he'd been though something no other had. But that wasn't true. Because I'd been though the same thing. Plus some. Plus plus some.

His dirty blonde hair was too long to look right, and hung low in his face, sticking to his forehead slightly with what I assumed was sweat. I was surprised to see, actually, that his chin and jaw line had gained some hair. His piercing eyes burrowed into my soul, picking apart anything and everything I'd been though or seen or heard. I felt uncomfortable, suddenly, and so tore my eyes away from his.

And then, not at all on time, a surge of anger rushed though me.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I spit, because honestly, he wasn't supposed to be here.

When a girl runs off in the other direction, you don't go chasing after her because maybe you feel bad. You leave them alone. Let them be alone. Let them be out in the wilderness without any protection and hope that, if they're lucky, they won't get dragged off by some unknown species that has a liking for human flesh.

Well, shit.

"Right now," he pauses, and the sound of the crackling flares up again, "I'm trying to keep this fire going. So I can cook this. So we don't starve to death."

I didn't feel right. So I didn't say anything. He seemed to take notice, because he kept quiet, as well.

It was like that for a bit; me staring at the outlines of trees, him shuffling around, the fire crackling disruptively, distant screams of angry animals, and the wind that could not talk pushing softly against my cheeks, prodding me for answers of a reality that I didn't know about.

I cleared my throat finally, "I really don't know where she is."

He didn't reply, which both upset me and made me feel relieved. Then the relief was torn away and replaced with guilt.

I thought he wouldn't say anything. I thought we'd sit here, in an unforgiving silence. I thought that he would leave me to the burned images of my frayed past. I thought he was mad at me.

But, then, I thought a lot. Because, as the fire crackled, as those animals beckoned for something I couldn't understand, as the wind threatened to scream with a voice it didn't have, he stopped it all. With his voice.

"I know."

And I was
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
into a hole that didn't exist.

It wasn't long until the day broke, and I had to keep my promise to Roman.

Ro crawled up to my side and starting punching my shoulders and chest as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. "We're leaving now," he told me, his eyes a piercing orange when the sun touched them.

"Don't boss me," I said, but sat up nonetheless. He might not have known, but I wanted to leave just as much as he did. I put on my Braves cap and stood to my feet, surveying the area. I thought about what direction we'd take. Images of getting eaten by some large flesh-eating rodent came to my mind. I didn't want to go tromping around in the jungle; it was foreign territory. But I'd already searched the beach for Chris, and doubling back over my footsteps wouldn't get me any closer to finding him.

It's just a little adventure, Chris's voice joked in the back of my mind.

"If you say so," I whispered aloud, exhaling, and walked towards the jungle. I heard Ro's scuffling footsteps catching up behind me.

"Shouldn't we tell somebody we're gone?" Ro said, jogging and stumbling in the sand. "Like, what if we get in trouble and need help?" For the first time today, fear tinged his voice.

"We're not gonna get in trouble. It's fine." I stopped briefly at the tree line, and then was about to continue into the thicket of branches when I realized Ro was no longer behind me. I looked back. He was standing about five feet before the jungle.

"We're goin' in there?" he marveled, sounding afraid. I stepped back and looked at the thick array of trees, separated by an eery blackness that blended into one solid unknown the deeper one looked. The leaves of the trees on the outskirts blew ominously in the wind. In a smaller voice, Ro asked, "You think Santos is in there?"

"Santos?"

"My brother," he reminded me, sighing.

"Well, shit," I said, hating myself for forgetting. "He's not on the beach. The only place that leaves is the jungle."

"But," Ro started, squinting up his eyes and looking at me, "what if we die?"

I looked at him. His figure was frozen in place as he stood in the sand, looking small and meek. The sun beat down on his worried face, the sadness behind his eyes clouding his expression. I shook my head. "We're not gonna die." I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "If we don't go in, we won't find Santos." Ro walked towards me and grabbed a loose branch from a nearby birch. He prodded the ground with it.

"Okay," he said. Then he smiled, something I hadn't really seen before. "We could pretend to be the people in movies, who search for things in scary places?"

"Sure," I said, not knowing what movies he was talking about, but thinking that it was exactly the kind of thing that Chris would say. We set off through the underbrush. The sun peeked through the canopy, lending us some light. We walked beside one another, Ro prodding at the ground with the tree branch he'd taken. Silence swept over us for a rough ten seconds before Ro broke it.

"Don't you wanna know what Santos looks like, so you know 'im if you see 'im?" Ro looked up at me, his eyebrows lifting. I nodded. Sure. Whatever floats your boat. I kept looking around for any sign of anybody. I imagined finding a football jacket draped over a fallen log, or Chris's bubble gum package laying in the grass. Every strange thing made me stand on my toes and look around, wondering if he'd been here. "He's kinda like you," Ro was saying with an upbeat cadence to his voice. It led me to pay attention to what he was saying. "He's tall, and he looks like me, but bigger. His hair's a little shorter; he keeps tellin' me I gotta chop off my hair or he'll make me braid it."

Ro scuffed at the ground with his sneaker. "He does mean things sometimes. He always beats me when we race at swimming. He told me once that Mom and Dad didn't even wanna have me, and once that the UPS just dropped me off at our house one day, and the town mayor made Mom and Dad keep me." Ro looked up at me, and then back down as we walked. "It's not true though, y'know. Aunt Kim, she told me Mom had me and it wasn't an accident or anything. Plus, I kinda live in, y'know, the ghetto. So I don't think we even got a town mayor. If we do, he never shows up anywhere."

Ro sighed, his mouth and nose scrunching up. "Santos always agrees with Aunt Kim when she says I gotta eat my broccoli." He jumped over a log dramatically, hitting his stick against a tree trunk. He stumbled and nearly fell. After he righted himself, he continued. "Anyway, he's nice to me most of the time. He brought me along on the trip to Africa after Aunt Kim died, 'cause she got sick." Ro bit his lip. "Santos said he's gotta get education and maybe he should study abroad, even though I told 'im that nobody studies in Africa, 'cause everyone's always gettin' sick and it's so hot there and everything."

He took a deep breath, exhaling reluctantly. He didn't say anything for a moment. I looked down at him, and noticed how upset he looked. His eyes looked on the verge of overspilling, and his face was pink. He stopped playing with the branch, and it just hung limply at his side. I took my thumbs out of my belt loops and shoved him a little. "I guess you'll have to tell him how bad he picks vacation spots," I told him.

Ro glanced at me, laughed a little bit. He started prodding the ground again. "What's your brother like?" he asked me suddenly.

"What?" I asked.

"You said you lost your brother," Ro said.

"Oh," I said. "Well." My eyes fell, and I walked a little faster. Ro caught up. "He's tall and real charming-looking, like girls like," I began. "Then he's got this football jacket that says his name on the back, and he's real crazy about sports, especially football." I cleared my throat, hard, like the lump in it would just fall out of my mouth or better, disappear. It occurred to me how lost I was, how much I needed him.

I felt something in my hand, and it was Roman's hand. I was surprised, and nearly pulled away. He squeezed hard, and I glanced down at him. He was looking up at me earnestly, and was about to say something when we heard something rustle in the leaves.

Ro jumped, and on instinct, I wrenched my hand from his. Two people emerged from the trees. My heart nearly jumped into my throat, my whole body freezing up. I recognized them after a moment, and my muscles loosened. They were the two people I'd come across a few days back, when Kameron and I first began working on the raft. Jackie, and the guy whose name I'd mistaken to be Elvis. Stubble grew along the blond guy's chin, and his hair fell greasily over his forehead. Both of them looked to be in worse shape then the last time I'd seen them.

"Jackie?" I asked. They had stopped too, and the girl looked at me.

"Oh, you," she said, obviously not the most excited. What'd I ever do to her? I wondered, not knowing why she seemed not to like me.

The boy beside her spoke up. "Lou, right?" I nodded. His eyes passed over Ro, looking confused. "Since when are there little kids on the island?" He sounded concerned. Ro frowned.

"I'm not little, I'm eleven," Ro interjected. "I could beat you at anything." He tilted his head upwards and looked at the older boy from underneath his eyelids. "I could beat you up." I reached over, putting my hand on Ro's face and then shoving his head away gently. It was an affectionate gesture that Chris and I often used with one another.

The older boy cracked a small smile at Ro's daring comments. Ro spoke up yet again, after lowering his head and taking on a more timid persona. "Have you seen my brother? He looks like me but bigger, and with shorter hair."

The blond guy shook his head. "I think we're all looking for people." He exchanged a long look with Jackie, and then turned back to look at Ro and me. "Maybe it'd be easier if we had four sets of eyes looking instead of two." He looked around between all four of us. "That way we could find my Ezzie. And Chelsea," he added quietly, looking at Jackie. Jackie held his eyes, looking strangely guilt-filled. "And your brother," he said, breaking eye contact and settling his gaze on Ro.

Then he looked at me. "And Chris."

I curled my lips, nodded. I toyed with my Braves cap. Then I got ahold of myself, manning up and standing taller. "Guess we should all sit down and talk," I said, and then, spitting like I would in baseball, "Let's just waste more time sittin' around instead of getting out there and looking."

The boy sighed. "What I meant was that, us touching base and then having a plan as to where we should look would make finding people much easier. If we know where we've looked, we won't waste time walking in our own footsteps."

"Elvis is right," Jackie said quietly.

So it is Elvis, I thought to myself. "Aright," I agreed, looking down. "It's gettin' dark, maybe we could make camp and then set out tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," Elvis said.

"You mean we're gonna sleep, in here?" Ro asked, his voice rising an octave.

"Man up, Ro," I told him, even though I was scared, too.

I said I'd get some firewood, and Elvis proposed that he'd seen a stream a while back, and he'd try to fetch some water to drink. Ro followed me from the clearing like a puppy, walking in my footsteps. I collected dead branches from the undergrowth, and he attempted to follow my lead. We gathered wood in silence. The sun winked out after a while, the green of the forest changing from blue to black as the darkness settled in. Ro had spread out from me, and was a maximum of thirty feet away at all times.

I focused on trying to pick up a bundle of sticks. They were wet and cold on my forearms and against my shirt. I doubted the dampness would be ideal for making a fire. Suddenly, I heard a thump and a rustling straight ahead. I looked up, startled. I squinted in the darkness, searching for Ro. I found him, standing a small distance away, having dropped his firewood abruptly. I breathed a sigh of relief. I could only make out his silhouette. All of the sudden, his shadow began to drift closer to me. He was running towards me. "Lou," he said, in a strange half whisper. "Lou, there's someone here," he said, his voice wavering.

"What, who--"

His breath was still shaking as he grabbed my arm tightly. "Someone's here, I saw them. We have to go. I'm scared."

I was confused. I looked around for anything unusual. "Where? I don't--"

Suddenly, someone stepped from the trees, walking in a strange, slow, drunken kind of way. Their head hung, and they limped slightly. I could only make out their general shape in the darkness. Whoever it was was walking right towards us. I backed up slightly, only to feel that Ro had migrated behind me, still clutching my arm. I reached into my pocket quickly and took out the LED flashlight that I'd nicked at the beach.

I switched it on, pointing it at the target.

It was a pale girl with long brown hair and features with hardly any definition. There was a dreamy quality about her, and her face seemed to float in front of us. There were bags under her eyes. She squinted into the flashlight, shielding her eyes with her hands. I noticed that her head was bleeding, badly. "Who're you?" I asked.

For a moment I thought she didn't hear me. Then she said, a distant quality to her voice, "I'm...I'm...do you....where's..." Suddenly, her face went gaunt. Her body froze. Her legs collapsed from underneath her. Her body fell to the ground, small and crumpled.

"Jackie," she mumbled.

Alaska

two minutes. two hours. two days. two months. two years. two ways to say goodbye.

I had no concept of time, so I had no way of guessing how long I'd been sitting on this cot, useless to the world that was unknown to the society I used to live in millions of years ago.

Chris came and went, and I did my best not to hate him; he did, after all, humiliate himself in front of me. The worst part about that was that he reminded me of why I liked him.

Wait, no. Nevermind. I don't like him. I despise him. He only made things better for the moment.

Why do you care? a voice whispered in the back of my mind. Why does it matter?

It doesn't.

Then why are you still thinking about it?'

"Because this is my mind and my body and I can think about whatever I want without some nobody in the back of my mind patronizing me!" I growl, out loud, and realize that I must've been in here for months because I was talking to myself. It took longer than a day to go crazy, right?

How should I know?

Before I could respond to the snarky personality, somebody poked their head into the makeshift tent, a puzzled expression spread across their face. Eddie, I think his name was.

"You doing okay?" he asked, and I suddenly felt ashamed of myself.

With warm cheeks, I nod once, and sit up achingly, "I'm actually kind of thirsty. Do we have any water left?"

He pursed his lips, and I could tell that either we were out or we were running out-- or not, I was bad at reading expressions, too-- but then, half a second later (or maybe minutes later) he smiled, and nodded, "Sure thing."

He disappeared, leaving me to the bipolar freak that was myself.

"I'm not crazy," I mumble, and poke at my leg, which was wrapped in some sort of 'medical leaves', as Ezzie called them. Speaking of her, I hadn't seen her in a couple years. I wondered what she'd named her kid, which led to me thinking about the future that was now, for our cozy little island filled with poisonous plants and species unknown to mankind. Did we create hovercrafts before the real world did? What about a better government? If I were President, I'd just tell everyone to do whatever they want, because I'm not a good leader. Would that make me a good leader?

Maybe I was crazy.

You are.

Nah, nevermind. I think I'm good. For now.

There was this one time that I was sitting in our little hut, back in Jamaica, and Paynt had went with my father to go catch dinner for that night. They'd been gone for hours, and I distinctly remember my mother waltzing in, saying-

"-Da'hlin, ya need'a get out'sad b'fore ya tern whitta than a mule hide," she slurred, a basket balanced on her head and a yellowed sheet (though, that wasn't the original color) gently flowing in her hands.

"Mama," the girl mumbles, and picks at a piece of her hair-- it must've been days, or even months, since she'd bathed-- then flicks her eyes up at her mothers, "ya know 'ere dem boys're at?"

The woman didn't reply, only smiled softly, and continued to stare at her daughter, as if prompting her to continue; finish the joke, her eyes said.

Before she could say it, though, the words left her mind as she watched her mother crumple to the floor.

Rushing forward to help the woman who raised her, the girl wrapped her tiny hands around her moms arm and, uselessly, attempted to pull her back to her feet.

"Mamas goooood, Faleb," her mother drawled, "she all goood."

The girl made sure to take note of the way her mother let the 'o' in her words drag out, long enough to stretch to the ceiling.

Though, of course, neither even knew of the terrifying, gut-wrenching (literally) disease that possessed the older womans body and promised to steal away her wishes and dreams for the rest of her life in a span of three days.

Faleb's pa and brother decided that right then was a good moment to saunter in, carrying three proportionate fish against their chests.

"We caw't us sum catfryyy," Paynt cooed in an ugly voice, waving one of the lifeless fish around in the air, sending a rotten scent in the smaller girls direction.

With a grimace, she noted barely sarcast, "Catfish, not catfry, mowly. Plus it smells awful bad. 'Ere'd ya catch it, Ol' Man Rastafarian?"

"Na', na', don' ya go dissin' that ol' man," mama mumbles, slight traces of pain edging in the tips of her voice; though neither of the boys paid much attention to that. "...ain't his fault he smell awful bad."

-that I should get out of the house, basically, otherwise I'd turn white. I thought about that, at this precise moment, because I was doing the same thing I was doing then; being lazy. Avoiding the sun because we'd gotten into another argument. That man just doesn't seem to understand, "please go away I don't want to see you again." Just because it was a burning star doesn't mean it had to act like one.

I needed to stop before I really went crazy. What was I talking about?

Nothing. I wasn't talking. I'd been thinking about the same thing for days.

"Alaska?"

"Who's that?" I chuckle, then add, "ain't nobody hurr' name dat, mowly."

"Mowly?" the voice questioned, and I opened my eyes-- when did I close them?

With a frown, and a slight slur in my voice, I say, "Sorry, nothing. Watcha need?"

"Just wanting to know if you'd seen Ezzie," it was Mark. He eye twitched, and his skin was a tanned red-- it didn't look good on him. I wondered how many months he'd spent in the sun. I wondered why he'd still had that headache after so many years. "Head's still bothering me."

I nod, and glance around, "Left me here. Had a kid. Named it Stormy, maybe. Indigena. I wouldn't be surprised if the thing was named Loopty Loop."

"Are you okay?" he frowned at me now, as if I were speaking another language.

"How many years we been here? We got hoverboards yet, hm?"

"Did you eat some of that meat?"

"Did you?"

"Alaska."

"Mike."

"It's Mark."

"You sure?"

"I think so."

"You look like a Mike."

"Something's wrong with you," he sighs, and turns his head to look into the rest of the tent. "I'm gonna find Ezzie. Don't go anywhere."

I laugh then, a long, joyful laugh, though when I locked eyes with him he looked scared; as if he thought something was wrong with me, "Go on, then. Get. Been sitting here for more years than you could count! I ain't going anywhere now."

And, with one last strange look, he disappeared behind the overgrown leaves and tied-together-clothes.

Though, I knew with unforgivable remorse, that something was wrong.

Or maybe I was just crazy.

Then again, who wasn't these days?

Chelsea

Pain. Pain. Pain. Light. Screaming. Noise. Pain.

I blinked to a relentless burning, searing my entire body. Threatening to engulf me. Someone was screaming. I wished they'd stop. I wanted to scream. I wished I could scream.

I was screaming. Crying. Burning. I was on fire.

I clawed at my body, trying to tear off my skin, relinquish the never ending flames, but I kept burning and screaming and crying until, without any say in it, losing consciousness.

*******************

Pain. Pain. Pain. Li-

I flicked my eyes open to pitch black. I wasn't sure if I was dead. I felt like it. I thought I was. My entire body felt as if it were on fire still, but everything was black, so I couldn't be. Unless it was black fire. Unless I was dead. I think I'm dead.

Distant cries and scuffling of animals tinged the silence around me, and created another world. Another world where I wasn't dead. But that couldn't be. Did they have owls in the afterlife?

I didn't know how long I laid there. I couldn't feel anything except for the searing pain. I wasn't sure if I was even alive. I was just stuck in some world with black fire and owls that were too afraid to show themselves.

I tried to move; couldn't. I tried to speak; nothing. I tried to think of anything aside from the black fire engulfing my body; help.

I was almost positive that I was dead. In fact, I could feel my body crumbling into ashes from the fire burning it so bad. I closed my eyes, the blackness from my eye lids no different than the blackness of this place.

Was this hell? I remembered my cousin, suddenly, telling me that I was going to hell for liking girls instead of boys.

Weird. I thought I was doing better. After all, I just remembered something. Maybe I was having flashbacks of my previous life before they transform me into a demon. Maybe I'm just crazy and am sleeping and really, I'm back on the plane, snuggled up against Jackie.

Jackie.

Jackie.

Shit.

As my head spun, I held onto that name, because I didn't remember it till now and it was important. My Jackie. I've spent so much time thinking about black fire and silent, yet screaming, owls, that I couldn't even worry about my Jackie.

Jackie.

Keep that name, god dammit.

Jackie

Don't you dare go back to sleep.

Jack

Who's Jack?

J

white.

*************************

Pain. Pain. Light. Pain. Light. Sounds.

I wasn't dead. My head pounded and my body ached, but I wasn't dead.

I opened my eyes, and sunlight blinded me. The black fire was gone. I didn't see any animals, especially not an owl.

My finger twitched, and I found that I couldn't move my right arm, but my left was good. I tried my toes next. They obliged. I was happy for that.

I tried to sit up next. Didn't go as well as planned. I crumpled back to the ground, and groaned audibly.

Then blinked, and realized that I'd made a noise.

I wasn't dead.

J

What's J? What does that stand for? June? Was it June? No, it couldn't be June. Maybe a code word. I realized, after a moment, that the last thing I remembered was the crash. Just the crash. Not who I was with, not how it happened, nothing. I frowned.

There had to be something more important in there.

Before I could continue my thoughts, a low growl rumbled from somewhere around me. I jumped-- not literally-- and craned my neck to get a better look. That hurt. There was a crick in my neck. And maybe a sprain. That's what it felt like, anyways.

I saw the slick, black body before I heard it again. Its paws made a low crunching 'scuff' as it slowly circled me, the rumbling noise never stopping.

And I was scared shitless. I pushed myself up until I had enough slack on my hands to move backwards, and avoided making eye contact with the beautiful beast.

I was about to die by black fire. Again.

The growling deepened when I moved, but I was too scared to care, so I just kept moving and moving, and it kept creeping closer and growling louder, and I knew it could smell my fear but I couldn't help it. It stunk of hunger. I stunk of blood and fried skin.

I crab walked until the beast was stalking along, about 5 feet away, and I crawled to my feet. My legs wanted to give out. I had to have my legs so I didn't die. My entire body ached. I could see burns all along my arms, and crusted blood was literally everything. I hurt.

Black fire didn't seem to care, though, because it stared longingly at me, growling at my movements. Before it gained any distance, I turned, and took off.

I wouldn't make it. I didn't even know where 'it' was. I didn't know what I was doing. My body felt wrong. I shouldn't be running right now. I shouldn't be here right now.

I ran like hell, though. I could hear the animal catching up behind me, but I didn't know what else to do. Besides run. I kept going until I was out of breath and I was sure that I was bleeding in several places and the only sounds were the roaring of the wind and the rustling of leaves.

I stopped, and fell to my knees, ready to sleep. Ready to fall into an endless rest. I wanted to lose consciousness and not gain it back. It was dark outside again. I wondered if the black fire would return.

And then I realized that I'd heard leaves rustling.

I lifted my head, and saw somebody.

I saw somebody.

They were short. Or, they looked short. I couldn't really see very well. My head throbbed still, and I assumed it was a headache as I pushed myself back to my feet. When I looked back up, though, the 'somebody' was gone. I was alone. I limped forward, desperate to find the person, and pushed forward. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know why I was going towards somebody who could've been a figment of my imagination.

And then, light. Bright light. This was is. I was dead. That was what I had to walk to. Then I was done. For some reason, though, I shielded my eyes. I covered my face to hide from the light that would take me to a better place.

"Who're you?"

I almost screamed. My light was talking to me. I didn't know what to do. Then, at the worst time, my eyes focused and I saw a figure behind my light. And a small figure behind the other figure. I wanted to cry and scream and hit things but I couldn't do any of those right now because they just stole my escape.

Then-then-then-

a name. Jackie. Who's Jackie?

My cousin told me I was going to hell because I liked girls. Because I'm dating a girl. Because Jackie is my girlfriend.

"I'm...I'm..." I couldn't get it out. I was overwhelmed with nothing, yet everything. "...do you...where's..."

And my body couldn't handle anymore. I pushed myself to the limit. I made a mistake of thinking I could take it. My legs crumbled beneath me, and my face hit the ground as the last word I could muster was, "Jackie."

Then everything turned black and I was losing myself like I had wanted to. Except, I didn't want to anymore. I wanted myself. I wanted me. I wanted consciousness.

I wanted Jackie.

As the song was nearly over, I was laughing, dancing my way out of the tent, then jogging, running, throwing the tarp flaps back and disappearing down the beach. I could hear Laska's laughter fade out. Suddenly, there were only the sounds of the beach. Kids whispered about Katelyn's murder, their voices drowning beneath the roar of the ocean. The sun beat down on the back of my neck, and God, I just wished I could run all the way down the beach like on a million-yard return and never come back.

Instead, sweaty and exhausted, I strolled to Gabriel's tree. He was asleep, his eyelids swollen and sunburnt, his skin like red rubber. His shoulders drooped, and when I got closer, the whole area smelled like urine and the pile after you recover a fumble, like fermented sweat and sour flesh. I scrunched up my nose. I glanced around for Holmes and Watson; they weren't anywhere in sight. I cursed under my breath. "I told those losers to keep a close watch," I muttered under my breath, pacing a distance from the tree and then returning, wiping perspiration from my forehead. Suddenly, voices followed a slight rustle in the forest. A second later, two boys emerged.

When they saw me, their eyes widened. "I thought I told you--" I shook my head, fuming. "What happened to keeping an eye on him, huh?"

Holmes put his hands up, backing up as I got in his face. "Sorry, we just thought--"

"Don't think, just sit by him--" They started nodding as I pointed to the tree. "--keep watch. Next time I'll beat both your sorry asses." They hurried to Gabe's side. They stood idly by the oak, watching me nervously. I exhaled, and then, delivering the message I'd come to deliver, I said, "And when he wakes up, tell him he'd better be prepped to state his case by sunrise."

"You mean for the trial," Watson remarked. So Eddie did his job after all, I thought, relieved that he hadn't skipped out on the plan. I made eye contact and nodded, before walking in the other direction.

I must've been in some kind of deep thought, because I felt someone crash into me after only a few steps. Startled, I instinctively put my arms out to catch them. My eyes lifted, seeing a ponytail of blonde ringlets bouncing and a pale hand bracing against my shoulder. "Ree," I said, my heart sinking a bit. I'd almost forgotten that she was here with me. I couldn't help but feel like another weight was put on my back; I had nearly forgotten my number one responsibility. Protecting my little sister. G'job, Chris. What a great brother you are.

"Chris!" she said, smiling up at me. Quickly following was a frown that creased her face. She put her hand up to my cheek, but didn't touch me. "Wow. You look awful."

"Awful?" I asked, taken aback, feigning offense. Awful? I can't look awful. "I'm a fucking handsome James Bond look-alike." Rian snorted.

"Okay," she said. "But you might want to get your beauty sleep before you go putting that on your headstone." I almost missed her last few words; the world almost disappeared on me. My eyes fluttered back open. "Whoa," she said. "You alright, there, Pete?"

The sun was suddenly hotter, and it burned me. "Sure thing," I lied, cracking a smile. I felt sleepy.

"Well, you look like death," she said. She hesitated, and then bit her nail. "Probably shoulda picked a different analogy," she contemplated. I grinned at her, which took effort. "You find that girl, yet? Saph?" I bit my lip at the mention of her name.

"Nah," I lied, trying not to think of it.

Ree rolled her eyes and then gave me a cheeky smile. "Right." She kicked at the sand, still smiling. "'Cause you and that Jamaican girl are at it now, right?"

"'Scuse me?" I frowned, raising my eyebrows and ducking my head so she'd make eye contact with me.

She did look up at me, staring at me for a moment before cocking her hip to the side. She crossed her arms, giving me an incredulous look. "Oh, c'mon, Chris. Don't look all unabashed and charmingly confused. You keep tossing girls around, and you're gonna be on a few hit lists, you know that, right?"

I frowned for a moment, thinking about Laska. I thought of her writing my name on her hit list. Then the corner of my mouth turned up in a smirk. I laughed a little. "I'm just playin' around, Ree, you know that."

"Kids play, Chris," Rian said. "You're eighteen years old, for God's sake. Get a grip."

"You get a grip," I said. "I'm just fine." Ree let out a suppressed snort, shaking her head. "Besides," I remarked, "It's not like my love life is the biggest issue around here." I surveyed the beach, my eyes landing on two girls sitting together by their tent, one consoling the other, who was damn near bawling her eyes out.

Ree sighed and then threw her arms up. "There we go, changing the subject. First you blame things on your so-called bad memory, and then you play the dumb jock card, where you act all charmingly stupid and blame everything on the fact that you play sports, even though there's no correlation between them at all. Then this. What's next, the wink and smile and kiss-me stuff? Well, that's not gonna work on me."

"I am dumb," I said, grinning, laughing a little.

"You're smart," she said. I advanced suddenly, jumping to her side and getting her in a headlock. I mussed up her hair.

"What was that?" I asked, as she tried to escape, pulling at my arm. "Say it again." I started to tickle her stomach, and she yelped, her bare feet flying off the ground, sand kicked into the air.

"You're smart!" she yelled through giggling tears.

"Tell me again, I dare you," I said, laughing. She pinched my arm and I released her, pulling my arm back. She started punching me, throwing sand. I dashed away, sprinting to the ocean. She bolted after me, and I ran out into the water, sneakers splashing as the tide rolled in. I stepped on the backs of my shoes with the opposite foot, and kicked them off. I kept running, but the water made me slow. Before I got too far, she caught up. She jumped onto my back, laughing, and I collapsed into the shallow water, my whole upper half going under. I pushed her off of me, shaking out my hair and spitting a mouthful of water into her face. It splashed onto her nose. I sighed laughter as she shoved me half-heartedly and then ran further out, jumping like a dolphin into deeper water.

She used the crawl-stroke to swim away. When she was a distance of about fifty yards from shore, she stopped and looked back at me, treading water. She was about ten yards from me.

"Is this payback for all those races I used to win when we were kids?" I said, water dripping down my face, T-shirt stuck to my torso.

"Beat me now," she challenged, and then dove back beneath the surface, gaining speed. I smiled. I took a deep breath and then took off after her, kicking my socked feet and pumping my arms. Cool water rushed into my face as I raced her further out. The sky was beginning to dim, and the water darkened. The silhouette of her upper half looked back towards me, outlined against the orange horizon. I caught up, my body tiring, out of breath.

"Guess you aren't as fast as you used to be," Ree said. I could sense the smile in her voice, the satisfaction from beating me at a challenge. But also something else; a kind of sentiment towards me.

"I let you win," I lied.

She back-floated, resting on the water. I looked back towards the shore, where the people there were like ants. "You think we should go back?" she asked. A breeze blew on my face, and there was silence except for the lapping of the water and the wind that rode the waves.

"Nah," I said, sinking into the water, only my head and shoulders above the surface. I tucked my head back. And then a thought popped into my head. I felt my pockets. "Christ," I mumbled, "I musta left my phone at the beach." An image came to me, of my phone setting on top of a stack of suitcases, playing Jackson 5. I exhaled. I didn't worry too much about it at first. My phone would be dead soon anyhow. My list is on there, I thought afterwards. I need my list. I chewed on my lip.

"You're not seriously thinking about that stupid list, are you?" Rian asked, her voice cutting through the soft tranquility.

"List? What list." I began swimming around on my back, swerving through the water around Rian, moving my arms.

"Don't play dumb. That stupid list you make. The one I told you was ridiculous."

I spit water up into the air. "The only reason you'd need your phone is for that stupid goddamn list," Rian continued. I spit up some more water so it showered over Ree's head like a halo. She ducked away, splashed me, and then continued. "I mean, to think that--" She stopped suddenly, her body jerking to the left, as if she'd gotten a cold chill. She shook her head ever slightly. "Just to think--" In one motion, all of the sudden, her chest fell forward and her head flew back. Her body jerked spastically beneath the water, her mouth bubbling on the surface.

My heart jumped in my chest. I lunged forwards. My hand reached out for her, my arm hooking around her shoulders, trying to pull her above the water. Every muscle in my body tensed, and my heart stopped entirely. Something has her.

Rian's head lurched above the black surface for a second. "Chris!" was what came from her lips, her voice shrill, and she launched into a scream, clutching at my arms. I held onto her tightly, but her body was slipping away from me. My heart raced, adrenaline pumping furiously like a fire through my body. Suddenly, her body was ripping from my arms, her fingernails scratching along my forearms in a futile effort to hold on. Her high-pitched shriek echoed as she was tossed--tossed--in the air. Her torso seemed to levitate a few feet above the surface, before she splashed back into the ocean, writhing in agony like a dog's chew toy.

I swam towards her, yelling her name, as her screams were severed abruptly. There was silence yet again. "Ree!" I yelled, everything jumbling in my head, my heart squeezing inside of my chest. And suddenly it was like my ribcage had crumbled away and my heart could fall through my chest at any moment.

I got to her as her head barely bobbed above the surface. Her eyes were shut, and they fluttered as a guttural sound came from deep inside her throat. "Ree, what happened?" I was asking, trying to hold her, but not too tightly, because I knew she was a good swimmer. Everything in my mind was loud confusion and disarray, brambles that the clarity of thoughts couldn't surpass. My eyebrows knitted as I held her, and her hand flopped against my arm.

Then I felt the water heating up around us; the smell of metal reaching my nose. My hands shaking, I reached down and felt the water, brought my fingers to my nose. Blood. "Oh, God," I was saying. "Oh my God." She was getting heavy, and my bad shoulder was aching terribly, but I reached down to find where she was bleeding.

My arm passed through where I would've expected her legs to be. And then, my fingers brushed against something fleshy just below her hip. I almost vomited, my throat heating up and then fire spreading through my chest. She doesn't have a leg, was all I could think, she doesn't have any legs. "Holy shit, oh God." My voice wavered. "Please God." I started trying to swim towards shore. Ezzie would know what to do, she knows what to do, I don't know what to do.

"Chris," Rian whispered, a wet and bloody sound that penetrated the cacophony in my mind. Her hand tried to squeeze my arm. "Help," she said from inside her throat, the blood bubbling past her lips. My heart was falling through my chest. I was trying to hold her, but her body wasn't heavy enough--she should be heavier.. There was blood on my shirt and on my arms; I was bathing in it. The only thing that kept coming to my mind was "Jaws", Lou and I curled up by the television and pretending not to be afraid. What if it comes back? I wondered, frozen cold and sweating. Afraid. Rian was trying to hold me, but she couldn't grab on.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I'll get you back," I murmured to her, my voice shaking as I swam, exhausted, my arms and legs screaming. "It's okay, just hang in there."

"Chris," she whispered, almost too quietly for me to hear. "Chris."

"Please God," I was whispering, not able to breathe. And then at once, her chest stopped rising, her head falling back limply. Her body stopped twitching in my arms. I felt my stomach fall out of my body and my chest implode and everything behind my eyes just crash into one another. My eyes widened. I touched her face. "Ree," I said, "Ree." I shook her shoulders lightly, holding her tighter to my chest. We were at shore, and the gritty sand pulled up against my feet. The black waves drew us in, and people were looking at us, running to the shore. "Ree, oh God, Ree, don't play like that. Ree."

Her blue eyes were half-open, frozen like someone had snapped a picture as she was just waking from a dream. I knew she was dead, but I just kept holding her, looking at her, waiting and wondering she'd finish waking up. The voices inside my head were so loud that I couldn't hear a thing.

And then something changed. My mind went blank. I let go of Rian's body. There was blood everywhere, sinking into the wet sand like syrup on a snow cone. The knees of my jeans were coated in dirt, and blood covered my arms and torso. I couldn't see it in the evening dim, but it was sticky and settled over me like a viscous film. People were running up to us, directing their voices at me. "What happened?" their lips shouted. But nothing came from their mouths. Their silhouettes pushed past me and knelt by Rian.

I stumbled as I began to jog away, my toes catching in the dirt. I righted myself. My mind was empty, and I was deaf to the world. For a moment, I didn't know what to do.

And then I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I ran to Gabe's tree. I started untying him.

"You're letting me go?" he asked me. I didn't answer. I heard the words but they were in a different language; the language of people who killed little sisters and pretended it wasn't their fault. "Chris. That's your name, right? What's going on? Are you letting me go?" There was hope and a feigned happiness in his voice. I untied all but his hands. He didn't resist as I dragged him towards the forest.

"What's going on, where're we going?" he asked, his black pompadour falling over his sunken eyes, his back hunched forward in the campfire light. I dragged him roughly. All I could see was the path ahead. My eyes were dark and unfocused, but my mind knew where it was going. We tripped through the underbrush. All I could see was Ree's face. All I could feel was the place her leg had been ripped away. All I could hear was my name, said desperately, helplessly. I could only smell blood. I could taste it.

Her face. My name. Her body going limp in my arms. Her heart stopping. Her breath stopping.

"Ch-is, no!" she yelled, her blonde hair plastered to her red face. She stood in the hallway, on two-year-old legs, stumbling around on a bed of multicolored pillows. I didn't know why she kept saying my name so it sounded like "kiss". I wielded a pillow in my hands. "No!" she kept yelling, crying, tears and snot streaming. I was laughing hard.

I threw the pillow at her, and she fell down like a bowling pin. Flat onto her stomach. "Strike!" I yelled. Rian started to cry harder, sobbing high-pitched wails. I rushed to her side, falling onto the pillows next to her. I didn't want Mom to hear her crying. I threw my arm over her back, leaned my head down close.

"I'm sorry, Ree-Ree, angel." I remembered her liking it when Mom called her angel. "You forgive me, okay?" I patted her back, and she tucked her head between my neck and the pillows, facedown. She smelled like baby powder. "I'll be the best big brother ever from now on."

She sniffled. She turned her head to look at me, eyes shining with tears. She smiled from her cheeks. "Okay Ch-is," she said.

I stopped in the middle of the jungle, who knows how far in. I pushed Gabe away from me slightly. He turned around to face me. The crickets chirped. It was pitch-black.

My mind switched back on.The sounds came rushing back. Rian waltzed into my room, holding a DVD in her hand. "C'mon Chris, please? Don't you wanna see Toto?"

Eventually she'd sulk her way out of my room. One night I watched it, The Wizard of Oz, in my room after Ree went to bed, by myself, just to see if it was as stupid as I thought. It wasn't good like she said, but I made sure I saw the whole thing. And sometimes when her and Dad were away for awhile, I just sat in bed in my practice clothes, under my covers and watched it over until I could say all the lines, just because I missed her.

I ripped the Swiss Army knife from my pocket.

I used to imagine telling her I watched her favorite movie. I used to imagine walking up to her and saying, "We're not in Kansas anymore". But I never did. Something held me back from telling her how I felt about it, how I felt about her.

And now I never can.

I rushed over to Gabriel, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He struggled, but I pinned his arm behind his back, holding the knife to his neck. My breath was ragged. I wanted to kill him.

"Go back to the beach, Rian!" I yelled, loud enough that my whole body seemed to ache.

"Don't order me around, Pete. I can take care of myself just fine." She fixed my shirt.

"Just go back."

"No."

"Ree."

"No. I'll stay with you, even if it kills me," she insisted. I rolled my eyes.

I stared at the back of Gabriel's head.

I couldn't do it.

My hand dropped to my side, and I shoved him away. Christ, Mahoney, you're weak. "Listen to me," I said, emotion crackling in my voice and making it catch in my throat. And then a switch flipped; my voice lowered to deathly placidity. It steadied, became sinister. I looked straight into his eyes. He was afraid. "You run away, and you never come back," I said. "I ever see your face again, and I swear to God, I'll kill you."

Gabriel stumbled backwards, and then sprinted away like an antelope into the brush.

I started walking back towards the beach. No sense of direction. No purpose, not even wanting to bury her body. Not knowing how. Not knowing how to pick up the shovel and put her underground when she was still alive in my head.

I was so goddamn lost.

Carlisle

Ezra gives me a calculating look. She looks me over with sceptical eyes, at my worn clothes and cape of leaves. Her calculating look turns to confusion.

"Your daughter?" She asks.

I chuckle. "It's a long and strange story," I tell her.

"I'm sure we've got the time," she takes a step back. She doesn't trust me. Fair enough.

"Alright," I step over to a tree to lean against it. My limbs aren't as supple as they once were. I really am getting old. "Seventeen years ago, I met a woman that I thought was the most amazing person in the world. I wanted to stay with her, move to Australia with her. I'm from Ireland, you see," I grin wide at Ezra as I say that before letting my face become serious. "But I was a skipper, a boat captain. And I had a duty, I had to do my job. When the amazing woman told me she was pregnant, I worked extra hard so there would be enough money for our child when I retired. But the day after my daughter was born, I was called away for a last job. And I never got to see my family again. Fifteen years I spent on this island, the first three there were other people. But they went crazy," I swallow at the memory. "They killed each other. I left before it got to me too. But I watched them do it. Women, some children, men ... Innocent people helplessly slaughtered by deranged and sick humans," I shake my head. "They didn't even look remorseful as they did it."

Ezra watches me curiously, as though she's familiar with that kind of behaviour. Has the sickness gotten to the beach kids? A part of me would be glad, but another part would wonder if Saph would care.

"I lived on the island and I lived off it," I continue. "I used the last of the resources from my boat, and gradually became one with the island. I was happy here, and I'd forgotten about my family. Then your stupid plane crashed on my island, and I had to watch you all grieve, and start exploring my jungle. I was going to have none of it," I glare at Ezra, who just stares back at me, showing no fear. "So, on a stormy night, using the dark and the rain to my advantage, I followed three of your companions, and I took one. I would have taken all three, but one died, and the other boy was a rambling mess. So I took the girl. I kept her imprisoned in a tree. But then we started talking. And the more she spoke about her childhood, the more I thought of my family, the amazing woman that gave birth to my daughter. I wanted to know if maybe the girl I'd kidnapped knew her, but the chances of that happening were slim. Australia is a big place, bigger than Ireland. But then she started talking about her father, and how he was a skipper, and how he died at sea. It got me thinking: why is that story so much like mine? So I asked her what her last name was, and of course, it was the same as mine. Saphire McCormine. The little devil. But then this Chris boy got between us. I could tell she wanted to go for the beach with him, but she was my daughter and I wanted to protect her. So I did, even though Chris was attacking me. And she got mad at me. She got mad at me?" I shake my head. "And while Chris and I were fighting, I accidentally told them she was my daughter. Then she ran away. I told Chris to stay with her, to look after her. But he didn't. Because she's gone, and I can't find her," I growl those last words out.

Ezra blinks in surprise. "Chris, as in curly blonde haided Chris?" She asks. "And the girl that went missing was your daughter?"

"Weren't you listening?" I ask.

"I was," Ezra exhales loudly. "Okay. Uhm, well ... If you want to find her you'd have to talk to Chris as he was the last one to see her. Maybe they had a fight and she took off," she nods and turns around to walk off.

I follow her through the jungle, and notice how she has a hand over her belly when she pushes through the leaves of trees. A woman would do that if she were protecting something. Like a baby. Why didn't I notice that before? Because I'm getting old, jeez. My feet rush forward and I stop in front of Ezra. She squeals and jumps back.

"You're pregnant," I point to her belly.

"How did you know?" She asks, her eyes widening.

"You'll put your hand over your belly," I point out.

She lifts her hand to place it on her belly. "No I don't," she growls. So it's a subconscious thing.

"You're doing it right now," I tell her.

Ezra looks down at her hand, and a blush creeps up her cheeks. "Do you think anyone else would have noticed?" She asks, probably herself.

"Nope," I answer regardless. "People aren't usually sure what they're looking at unless they know what they're looking at. I've seen pregnant women, I recognise their habits."

Ezra huffs and pushes passed me. "Either way, you're going to keep that to yourself," she says firmly.

I follow her. "That I've seen pregnant women before and I know their habits?" I tilt my head to the side, confused. "If you insist."

"No, that I'm pregnant," she snaps.

"Oh," I nod. "Sure. Don't see who I'd be telling."

"Good," she keeps walking.

We reach the edge of the jungle and the beach comes into view. All the kids are rushing about, most of them crowded around something down by the waves. Ezra tells me to wait as she strolls onto the sand. I block out all sounds when my eyes notice the red in the sand, seeping into the water. Is that ... Blood?

Sound rushes around me, but I can't look away. The image of the massacre at my village plays through my mind. Jeez, no more suppressing memories for me. And I'll put that into action right after I suppress this memory.

Something moves through the trees behind me, and I turn around. There's Chris, walking back to the beach. His eyes are red and his cheeks are tear stained. He looks like hell. He looks up, directly at me, and stops. But he says nothing. He doesn't even seem to notice me standing there. He just stares, like he's seeing something else, not a person, standing before him.

"Chris, lad, you alright?" I ask, walking over to him.

His eyes seem to come into focus at the sound of my voice. But he doesn't say anything. His eyes look dull. He seems ... Empty, numb. What the hell is wrong with this kid?

"Chris, what's wrong? Don't be like this I'm trying to be nice," I growl.

I get no reaponse. A part of me wants to grab his shoulders and shake some sense into him, make him speak, make him react. A part of me really, really wants to hurt this fool for letting my daughter run away. But another part of me, the human part of me, feels something ... Like worry. I feel worried for this boy. For chrissake!

"Where's Saph, Chris?" I growl, walking over to him.

He just looks up me with a blank expression, and then steps around me to walk away. I jump back in front of him to stop him. Chris watches me for a second before turning his head and walking around my other side, heading back to the beach.

I grit my teeth to refrain from hurting him. "Chris, for crying out loud!" I roar and step in front of him. "Stop acting like this!"

Chris lifts his gaze at me, and does something that nearly pushes me to the point of blind rage. He shrugs, like he has nothing to give, and cares for nothing. He just shrugs. The little bastard just shrugs!

Without thinking, I leap forward and latch my hands around his neck. I bring my face right before his and growl, low and menacing. Chris's eyes remain devoid of emotion, like his face. He just stares at me with his blank look that irritates me more than his stupid comments.

"Carlisle!" I hear Ezra yelling behind me. "Let him go!"

After a moment of terrible contemplation, I let go of Chris's neck and step away from him. Chris glances at Ezra, and then at me, and the lets out a huff. He doesn't move, just stands there.

"I ... I'm so sorry, Chris. I wish I could have done something" Ezra looks about ready to cry as she looks at him.

When Chris says nothing, I growl again. "You little bastard, she said sorry, say something back," I glare at him.

"Carlisle," Ezra gives me a warning look.

"You're all idiots," I snap. "Why did you stay on the beach. You could have avoided the death of all those other people. You would be safer, too."

"In here?" Ezra barks. "Don't be stupid, we'd never survive. Besides, we'll never know if someone comes to save us."

"I've been here for fifteen years. I've seen boats go passed, I've seen planes fly overhead," I look at Ezra with sincerity. "No one is coming."

Ezra makes an odd choking noise and clutches her stomach. "Don't say that, we'll get off the island. Someone has to come," she says, tears in her voice.

"This," I indicate the beach and the jungle, "is your life now, whether you like it or not."

"Then you have to help us," her eyes are pleading. "You have to make sure we survive."

"Bastard," I mutter. Although, this could be my one chance at redemption with the world. It could tell me daughter I'm not all that bad a person, and give me a purpose again. "Alright, fine."

"How are we going to convince everyone to move into the jungle?" Ezra asks.

"Let me do the talking," I say.

"Ahh," Ezra bites her lip. "I don't think that's too good an idea. Maybe let me talk to them."

"Why?" I give her a hard stare.

"Because you're scary," she squeaks.

"I'll show you bloody scary," I growl, but stop before I do something stupid.

"Yeah, that's my point," Ezra points out.

"Fine," I nod resignedly. "Go talk to the little blighters. I'll wait here with Chris."

"Okay, I'll be back once I've spoken to everyone," she smiles and walks off, leaving me alone with ... No one.

"Chris?" I call, looking around.

He's gone.

I find a log to sit on and let my mind wander. And I find myself thinking about when I first met Saph's mother.

The bar is noisy, men laughing and yelling at one another over the noise of the music. The women chattering nearby grow louder and quieter every now and then. They're all mad, these bloody Australians. They're all freaking mad.

Someone pulls the stool out beside me and drops heavily onto the cushion. I turn my head, expecting to find a giant, bear like man. Instead I find a slender woman with long, dark brown hair, and a fierce face. She looks like one of those women that would punch you in the face if you looked at her wrong, but she's so tiny!

The dark haired woman glances at me, and I quickly look away, taking a gulp of my beer. The bartender comes over and the dark haired woman orders three tequila shots. I watch from the corner of my eye as he pours her the drinks, and she downs the first two easily. The third one she just watches, a look of heartache on her face.

Shaking my head, I finish the last of my beer and hail the bartender to get another. Tonight is my last night of staying up late and getting hammered. Then it's back off to work. Hurrah for me.

"Why are you alone?" A voice asks beside me.

I turn to look at the dark haired woman, who's facing me, an expectant expression on her face. Her eyes are silvery green, one a shade darker than the other. She's actually quite gorgeous.

"Ah, no friends. I'm here for work," I take a sip of my beer. "Sort of."

"Oh, you're Irish," she grins wide. "What do you do?"

"I'm a skipper," I begin, turning to face her. "I drive boats. Usually cruise ships, sometimes cargo."

"Nice," she nods.

"What do you do?" I ask.

"I, ahh, design webpages for companies. It's not great pay, but I enjoy it," she tells me.

"That's pretty cool," I smile. "So why are you here alone?"

She lifts her last shot of tequila. "Just broke up with my boyfriend of three years. I thought drinking away the memories would help," she says, but doesn't drink the shot.

"Oh, sorry to hear," I bite my lip.

"Nah, don't worry about it," she waves away my apology. "He was a jackarse anyway. Slept around."

"Prick," I growl out.

She chuckles. "Too right," she agrees. "I'm Isabelle, by the way." She holds out her hand.

"Carlisle," I shake it. "Carlisle McCormine."

"Nice name," she grins wide at me. "Wanna do shots with me?"

"Why not?" I chuckle. "Last night of sobriety anyway."

"That's the spirit!" She lifts her remaining shot. "Fuck men!"

I laugh and lift my beer. "Fuck men," I echo, and take a few gulps of my beer.

"So tell me, Carlisle," Isabelle waves the bartender over to get more shots. "Got a wife, or girlfriend back home?"

"With my job? Nope," I shake my head. "Haven't been back to Ireland since me Ma died."

"When was that?" Isabelle looks so sincere as she asks this.

"Few years back, now," I shrug.

"Was she a good mother?" Isabelle asks.

"The best there was," I smile.

"To good mothers!" Isabelle raises a shot glass before downing the contents.

I laugh. "To me Ma," I raise my pint before taking a gulp.

"What about other family, siblings?" She asks.

"Had four," I nod. "Now it's just my sister and me."

"Ah, to siblings," Isabelle raises another shot glass, and again I lift my pint before taking a swig. "I had five older brothers and two younger sisters. The older three were from another woman, same Dad, and my two sisters were from a different man. I have a very broken family," Isabelle laughs softly, almost scoffing. "All of my siblings are these big, hotshots, like lawyers or politicians or shop owners. One of my sisters is a pimp, but she doesn't like that term."

My eyes bug out of my head and I chole on my beer. "How can you be so casual about it?" I ask.

"I encouraged it apparently. All because I told her to be successful and take advantage of her assets. Not what I meant, but hey, if we're happy with what we do," she lifts a shot glass. "To a good job!"

I shake my head and take a gulp of beer. I turn to Isabelle but frown. A tall, gruff looking man walks over to us and sits down beside Isabelle. He leans close to her and slings an arm around her shoulder. She freezes and looks at him from the corner of her eye.

"Hey, babe, how's it going?" He slurs.

"It was going great till you rocked up," Isabelle shrugs his arm off her shoulder.

"Aw, play nice," he leans even closer to her.

"Hey, mate, come on," I warn the man off. "She isn't interested."

"Stay out of it, leprechaun," the man snarls at me.

I open my mouth to retort an insult of my own, but Isabelle beats me to it. She jumps off the stool and grabs the man by the shoulder and neck, slamming his head onto the bar top. I jump in surprise and stare in shock as she leans right over him, her face beside his ear.

"Didn't you hear what he said, mate?" She spits. "He said I'm not interested. He was just being polite. He wasn't saying what we both want to say."

"Let go of me, you bitch," the man wheezes.

"Oh, not so interested in me now, are ya?" Isabelle smirks and glances at me. She winks before turning back to the man. "Fuck off back to your mates, or I'll pop your shoulder out of its socket. Got that?"

The man whimpers and nods, his face squishing against the wood of the bar top as he does so. Isabelle steps back and he quickly pushes himself upright. After giving us both a hostile look, he gets up and walks away. And that man's pride will be found in the Intensive Care Unit.

Isabelle sits back down and sighs. "Fuck men," she lifts her shot glass – her last one – and downs it.

"Aye," I finish my beer and turn to her. "That was quite the move, there."

She scoffs. "My ex says I'm too aggressive. That I make him feel emasculated," she growls out. "What, because I'm used to defending myself against tougher guys? I had five older brothers, for crying out loud," she growls irately. "I suppose you're gonna say I'm too scary and piss off."

I find myself laughing. "You are an interesting woman, Isabelle," I tell her. "And gorgeous."

"Fuck off," she smiles as she says that. "Seriously."

"Hey, I'm just admitting what every other man in this bar wants to say," I lean closer to her. "Although now I think they're too scared."

She throws her head back to laugh and turns to me, smiling. After a moment, her smile fades and she becomes serious. "Come back to mine for some drinks," she says.

"Nah, I still have the rest of the night to drink away, and you just broke up with your boyfriend. I'm not that kind of guy," I shake my head.

"Whatever," she rolls her eyes. "Well, I want to leave this place. That mongrel has ruined my mood," Isabelle leans on my shoulder. "But I want to bring the Irish with me."

"You're drunk," I tell her.

She chuckles. "Barely," she straightens and pulls some money out of her jeans pocket. "Come on, we could go to another pub instead."

"Aww," I growl at her playfully. "Alright. But you're paying for me drinks."

"Yes!" She fist-pumps the air and grabs my arm. "Let's go."

"I've gotta pay first," I pull my wallet from my jacket pocket and fish out a fifty dollar note. Isabelle grabs it and slams it onto the bar top, dragging at my arm. "Oi, that's a fifty dollar note!"

"Your first drink at the other bar is paid for sir, now get your arse moving!" Isabelle hauls me from my seat and drags me into the warm air of the Australian evening. "Now, left or right?"

This woman is amazing. "Left. I've always favoured my left," I say.

"Sweet," she grabs my hands and pulls me down the street. "Let's fuck shit up."

Jeez, what have I gotten myself into?

Isabelle could hold her alcohol, I had to give her that. And after getting kicked out of five pubs, we ended up going back to her place. We didn't continue drinking. Instead she made coffee, and we sat on her bed chatting away till seven in the morning. And then we fell asleep, with her snuggled against my chest, and got woken up by her ex coming into the house at four in the afternoon to collect his belongings. As you can imagine, that didn't go down so well.

"Carlisle?" Ezra's voice brings me from my memories. "Come and meet the rest of us."

I stand up and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing, right?

Jackie

Elvis prodded my elbow with his finger, and grumbled something about fish and cheese dip. I learned not to question, though.

The two boys- Bo and Low, I'd been referring to them as- were still off, doing who knows what. I didn't really know how I felt about them.

The little boy reminded me of my younger step-brother. Would he be considered that? I was the one adopted. I doubted it rea-

"Jackie?" his gruff voice destroyed any thought that may have been running through my mind.

I glance at him, and remember that I was picking up twigs-- a large bundle cradled in my arms, sticking into my wrists, poking my stomach, prodding concealed scars. I blink, and shake my head slightly, "That's my name."

He was quiet for a moment, before asking in a deep, monotone whisper, "Why'd you do it?"

"-Did you think you'd get away with it? Huh?" his breath stunk of putrid smells the girls mind could not fathom. "Why'd you do it?"

"I-I-" her words were stolen from her, thrown on the ground, and stomped on. She had nothing. She couldn't even speak. Her hands trembled from the burning sensation spreading throughout her body. "I-"

"I-I-I am tired of you, god dammit," he growls, making her flinch, "c'mon, get up. We're going to the Haven."

"Why'd I do it?" I mumble, and laugh at the end. Why did I do it? I laugh again, and it's bitter and hurts my throat, but the urge to make a sound while I still could ached and yelled at me to take the chance. "Oh, I don't know, Elvis! I just wanted help. I just wanted to find-"

I pause, and purse my lips together. I just wanted to find her.

"But I do, too," Elvis whines, and the sound of his footsteps stop behind me, "Don't you think I want my Ezzie, just as much as you want your Chelsea?"

I drop my head and stop walking, guilty-- which is a feeling I wasn't familiar with. I clear my throat, and turn towards him.

"I was being selflish, okay?" I mumble, and refuse to look up. "I was being selflish and stupid and I'm sorry, okay?"

With my head dropped, I couldn't see him clearly, but I could see him lower himself to the ground.

A single whimper, barely louder than a twig snapping, was all it took to shatter the rest of me.

"I don't know what to do," he cried, his voice breaking and screaming 'just let me out, just let me out, just let me out', "What if she's gone? She's gone. What if I never find her? I won't. I was going to be a dad, remember? Not anymore."

It was like he was talking to himself. Arguing with himself. Ruining any hope he left in himself with despair.

I moved forward, without even giving my body permission to, and before I knew it, I was cradling his head. His gray orbs poured almost endless tears into my ripped-up crop top, and I didn't feel awkward. I didn't feel out of place. I just wanted to comfort this man because I did this. I created this.

I just didn't know who was going to catch me when I fell again, since I was now holding someone else up.

"You're going to find her," I didn't know which of us I was referring to; both, probably, "You're going to find her and everything is going to be okay, because you'll be happy again and you'll have faith and you're going to find her."

I didn't know how long we sat like this. But by the time that we heard voices again, my knees were quivering and Elvis' face was tear stained. Bo came trampling through the overgrown plants, his face a mask of panic.

"He-he-he-" the boy gasped, and skidded to a stop about 10 ten feet from us, "-girl."

"Girl?" I frown at him, and glance behind him, where Low was coming into view. Something large and human-like slung over his arms, looking rather uncomfortable.

"We-" he stops, and takes several seconds to catch his breath and breathe in fresh air, before continuing with, "-passed out. We...-oud a girl."

Low approaches Bo, and kneels down, laying the body down on the soft forest floor, "Don't know who she is. Don't rec'agnize her."

Elvis rose to his feet, but as soon as he started stepping forward, he stopped. His eyes locked on the girls face, disappointment clouded his features. It wasn't Ezzie.

I stepped up behind him, and as soon as I saw the black top, I lunged forward and threw myself next to the limp figure.

She was beaten up. Her body was bloody, her jeans ripped to shreds and covered in dirt and something unrecognizable. Her chest rose and fell only a once every other second, and it was her.

It was her. Chelsea. We found her. They found her. She was here. She was here. I wasn't alone anymore.

I couldn't even find my words to thank the two boys standing before me. I brushed the tangled bits of brown hair out of Chelsea's face, and stared at her, long and hard, as if I'd never see her again. I tried to memorize every curve, every freckle, and every indention so I'd never have to strain to remember again.

"Where..." I found my lips moving unwillingly as I take in the sight of my long-lost savior. "...where was she?"

I don't even look up, just listen, barely, as the smaller one says, "...she came to us. Said 'Jackie' before fallin' to the floor. That you?"

"That's me," I laugh, suddenly, and a single drop falls onto the face of the angel below me, then sails down her cheek, leaving a clean trail all the way down her jawline. "That's me."

Everything was going to be fine. Nothing was falling. I was here. I was alive. Chelsea was with me. We were going to make it. Nothing could go wrong.

I was whole.

I had what I wanted.

Nothing could go wrong.

We-

Chelsea suddenly jerked, and her body began to spasm. Without open eyes, her body thrashed against the ground, pounding against dirt and threatening to give up.

I was too shocked to do anything. Hands grabbed my shoulders, and I was yanked away from the only sunlight that could brighten my day.

Shit.