John lay on the beach, living out his last agonizing moments. It had been ten years now since he had gotten on this damn island. And now, he'd never leave. The rescuers came, but they never found him or the now long since dead others. He was the only one left. The others had either commited suicide like Cedar, or been eaten by the T-rex and Super Raptors that had menaced them for so long. And he had survived all that to be killed by an infection in his leg. Life was cruel.
He looked over to his left. A picture of his daughter Shawn sat in the sand, aged and stained from the ten long years he had been here. To think that the only thing keeping him going was this picture. Shawn wouldn't have wanted him to give up. So John didn't. But now he couldn't go any further, even if he wanted to.
John looked down at his pussy, bloody leg. A large Super-Raptor claw had done this to him. The raptor had been long since dead, but the wound remained. It never healed. And now it would kill him. The pain was getting worse...John looked over at his gun. No...he wouldn't. But the pain was so bad...John grabbed the gun and put it to his head. A fitting end to man who used a gun all his life.
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