Young Writers Society

I stumbled into the clearing, lowering the girl from my back and onto the ground. Jackie rushed to my side, her eyes widening and her entire expression freezing up. Ro stood a distance away from us, his chest heaving with labored breaths. He was confused, and looked on as Jackie cradled the girl in her arms. She looked at the girl like Andrea Wells used to look at Chris in Physics class. I remembered it clearly; the way her eyes would glaze over, how her jaw would slacken, and her elbow would slip off of her desk like she forgot to hold up her head. She's in love, I thought.

Jackie was whispering her name. "Chelsea. Chelsea." It was subconscious; her hands were brushing across the girl's face and arranging her hair. The girl--Chelsea, I assumed--was moving her lips slightly, but no words were coming out. Suddenly, her body started to twitch spastically. Seizure, was the word my mind conjured. Seizure.

She foamed at the mouth, and her eyes rolled back into her head. A memory came to mind, of Christmas two years back. Chris and I were at my uncle's house. He was rich, allegedly, though I'd never seen him do any work. All I'd ever seen him do is drink. He'd invited his family from further south. I thought of little Sohrab, the five-year-old with the curly hair who'd collapsed on the floor in the kitchen. His body was shaking, and Uncle Nolan was injecting him with something, muttering, "Epilepsy. Five years old and addicted to morphine. Guess it runs in the family, huh Louis?" as he propped Sohrab against his chest. It'd wounded me, and I'd cried into my pillow later that night, arms tightly around my head, thinking of Mama and cursing Uncle Nolan into the pillowcase.

I ran forward, grabbing Jackie's shoulders and yanking her away. I knelt to the ground. "Take care of her," I told Ro, pointing to Jackie as I wrestled Chelsea into my arms. I propped her against my chest like I'd seen Uncle Nolan do to Sohrab. I didn't know much of what to do after that, so I just waited until she stopped convulsing. I could feel blood on my arms. Her body was sweating, and her hair was matted to her forehead.

Ro ambled meekly over to Jackie, still staring at Chelsea, bewilderment and horror in his eyes. He knelt next to Jackie, who was suddenly in hysterics, bawling into her hands. Ro put his hand on her back gently. Then he hugged her tightly, his head burrowing into her neck. He was saying something to her, but I couldn't hear what.

Elvis had rushed to my side. He wanted to help. "What do you need? Do you need anything?"

"Need?" I mumbled. "I ain't no doctor, I don't know for shit what the hell I need."

At this, Elvis took Chelsea's arms gently from mine, and laid her on the ground. Her body was completely still now, and she looked, well, dead. The only thing that proved otherwise was the way her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Elvis and I sat by her side.

The crickets chirped, and the wildlife stirred in the forest around us. Elvis cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "My dad told me that in the military, when a soldier gets wounded badly in battle, there're at least twenty minutes before they can be airlifted," he said. "There's nothing the nurses can do for them most times. He says companionship is the best medicine."

Then he stood. "I'm gonna start the fire, and then find something to keep her warm. Can you sit with her?"

"Sure, yeah," I said, casting a glance downwards at Chelsea. Elvis looked at me, nodding, before he walked away.

I wondered if I'd ever be able to deal with seeing Chris like this. With blood coating his arms and legs. Weak. Ro crept up behind me, his head cocked to one side, eyebrows furrowed, peeking over my shoulder at Chelsea.

"What's gonna happen to her? She gonna die?" His voice was soft, almost reverent.

"Where's Jackie?" I asked him. I looked back, making eye contact. "I thought I told you to take care o' her."

"I did," Ro insisted. "But then she and that guy started talkin', so I left 'em alone." My eyes landed on the pair of Elvis and Jackie, who were standing about twenty feet away, having a conversation. Jackie was trying to push Elvis's arms away as he tried to console her, and attempting to walk in our direction. Elvis stopped her, said something.

They came over to us a while later, Elvis laying palm tree leaves over Chelsea's body, covering all but her face. Jackie used the water they'd collected from the stream to wash her face and arms, pushing the makeshift blankets away. Ro and I were left in the background, and I walked over to the fire, sitting a few feet from the licking flames. Ro followed on my heels, and then stood behind me slightly, his arms drooping at his sides. I reached up, tugging Ro's elbow downwards, and then putting my arm around his shoulders once he settled onto the ground. His legs were criss-crossed, and he poked at the ground, yanking up blades of grass.

There was a short silence, only penetrated by Elvis telling Jackie that "maybe we should move her by the fire."

Ro looked over at me, the inferno glimmering in the reflection of his irises. "Are you thinking about him?"

"Yeah," I said, after a moment.

We laid down for sleep a while later. The ground was firm and unforgiving. Ro situated himself about three feet away from where I was laying, facing me. Jackie laid down next to Chelsea. When I listened, I could hear her talking to the sick girl, whispering reassurances and apologies, brushing her hair out of her face. Elvis was stoic and still in his place between Jackie and I. He didn't close his eyes, but stared up through the canopy of treetops at the stars.

The fire flicked and glanced off of Ro's face. His big eyes stared at me, before moving to take in his surroundings. They flitted nervously, as the silence enveloped our camp.

I'd nearly fallen asleep when I heard whispers. "Lou," Ro was whispering harshly. "Lou." I opened my eyes, groaning and turning over. "I can't sleep," he whined softly.

"Just go to sleep, Ro," I grunted, adjusting my position.

"I'm hungry," he told me. I heard Ro's stomach grumble, and Elvis turn over, moaning in his sleep. "I'm scared," Ro said.

"I can't do nothin' about it," I said. "Go to sleep."

Ro scooted closer to me, whispered, "What if we're missing the rescue plane while we're out here?"

I reached over, tweaking his nose. "You wanna find Santos, don't you?"

Ro smiled at my gesture, and then he crawled over beside me before settling in my arms. His curly head nestled in my shoulder, he said, "We can find food to eat tomorrow, right?"

"Sure," I mumbled, curling my arm around him, which seemed to satisfy him, as he sank into a light slumber.

~*~

I woke in the morning to empty arms and a bird singing in my ear. The forest was dense with sounds, and sunlight streamed through the trees. My skin felt sticky, my yellow cut-off dirty at the bottom, my Braves cap having fallen onto the ground behind me. I leapt to my feet, kicking dirt and nearly slipping. Chelsea began to wake up, and Jackie immediately woke at the sound of her voice, saying "Jackie?" She began to coddle her, asking her where she'd been, what had happened to her. Chelsea still looked distant, but her eyes had a clearness to them that hadn't been there last night.

Elvis began to wake up. I didn't notice any of them, not really. Ro was gone.

"Ro!" I called, thinking he might've gone to take a leak. "You seen Ro?" I asked Elvis, who shook his head. "Ro!" I yelled, walking to the tree line. The trees hummed. Ro didn't respond. Worry sprouted in my stomach. Where did he go? Elvis was watching me. "I'll go look for him," I told Elvis. "Don't leave without me, aright?" Elvis nodded, and I jogged into the underbrush.

"Ro," I kept saying, "Ro." It took me about a minute to find him, peaking out from behind a tree. "Ro!" I called to him, stumbling over tree roots to get to him. "What the hell are you doin' out here?"

Ro shrugged. "I was just lookin' for somethin' to eat."

I rushed over, my fingers grasping the collar of his shirt harshly. "You don't ever wander off again, you hear?" Ro's eyes cast downwards, and shame filled them. His voice rose in pitch.

"I was just tryin' to find--"

"You ain't about to plead your case to me. It's dangerous out here, Ro." I sighed, letting go of his shirt, shoving him back in the direction of the clearing.

"Sorry," he said.

"Fuck it. Let's just get movin'."

We kept walking back towards the clearing. After about ten yards, Roman stopped stone-cold mid-step. His eyes widened, his body becoming rigid. His arms straightened. His face froze, mid-expression. I stopped, looking at him quizzically, and was about to ask what was wrong before he began to walk again, resuming his slumped gait. He ripped thick weed from the undergrowth, and prodded at the ground. He swung it at the trees as he walked, nonchalantly, making a loud thwack.

"What was that?" I asked him.

"Nothin'," he said, so we continued on our way. A second later, it happened again. He paused between strides. He shook his head.

When I stared at him, he said, looking embarrassed, "He was talkin' to me." Ro walked more quickly; I was forced to jog to keep up. "Santos, he was talkin' to me. I hear him sometimes, in my head."

I grabbed his shoulder in a vice-like grip, stopping him. The tendons in my hand tightened. "What're you goin' on about?"

Ro swallowed. I could see the tears pooling in his eyes. He met my gaze head-on. "I can hear him." He spoke slowly, his breathing accelerating. "I can only hear him when he's close."

My eyes narrowed. "What--"

"I can hear him in my head sometimes, talkin' to me. Like he's there."

I shook my head, trying to pull him into a hug. He was squirming. "Ro, you're just thinkin' about--"

"No," Ro whimpered, pulling away. There were tears in his eyes, and his voice was quivering. "I can only hear him when he's close. He's here."

We made eye contact, my bemusement and his anxious paralysis reflecting one another. A branch creaked, surely a tree moaning in the wind. The branch creaked again, more violently this time, like a cello playing an eerie song. Ro took my hand. This way, Ro's eyes beckoned as he seemed to jog in slow-motion away from me. Confusion settled over me, and I followed in a horrifying, dreamlike state.

We rounded the corner, and the creaking of the tree branch had increased in volume. Ro and I stood in the middle of a small clearing. The wind blew eerily. "Santos!" Ro yelled, his kid-like voice resonating. I felt something drip down my neck. Something warm.

Huh? I reached back and then took my hand away, bringing it around for a better look. My heart beat faster. Gulping, I spun in a gradual turn and brought my eyes upwards.

My heart jumped into my throat. I let out a short gasp and stumbled away from the tree, causing Ro to spin around in my footsteps.

There, hung on the lowest tree branch, was a human body. Blood covered its torso and dripped from where the face was stripped away, likely by some kind of animal. At first, I thought that the body was caught in the tree, but as I looked closer, I could make out the rope that was tangled around the person's neck. It felt like something was lodged in my throat. The body was a mangled mess, limbs drooping from the arm-sockets, the piece of flesh that might've once been a head dangling from the neck.

Ro stood in some kind of paralysis, and his face went pale. Shuddering, trembling, I limped to the tree, and felt a wallet in the back pocket of the jeans. I removed the driver's license and turned it over. There was a picture of a young black man, frowning.

Santos Robert Hamilton, it said in bold print beneath the photo.

"It's him," I said, my voice quivering. There was a moment when the world paused, and then it began to rotate faster and faster. I became dizzy, and nearly passed out. "It's him," I repeated softly, when everything was still again. "Ro, it's your brother."

Ro swayed on his feet, and then, his face straining, he stiffly walked to where Santos hung from the tree. His hand brushed over his brother's sneaker, and felt the ankles of his jeans, like making sure he was real. And then he began to cry, big and desperate wails, giant tears rolling down his face, snot pouring from his nose. He collapsed in a heap on the ground, grabbing his head with his hands. I stood there, and my chest was making me feel like I wanted to cry, and I silently yearned for it to stop.

He cried his throat raw, until no sound came from his mouth but a hiccup. His face was beet red, from exhaustion and from the blood that had dripped onto his cheeks and mixed with the tears. Ro suddenly got to his knees, crawling to the wallet I'd dropped on the ground. He picked it up and chucked it into the grass, whimpering. Then he stood up. He reached up and put his arms around the body's waist, trying to pull it down. He was crying uncontrollably.

I walked over, a little faster, and tried to pry him away from the body. "Ro, quit it," I said. Ro's hands were clasped firmly together, and I got my hands under his armpits, tugging him away. "I said quit it."

"Let me go," he uttered breathlessly, "Let...me...go." Then he gave out, failing to resist my strength, and I wrestled him away from the body.

I cried like a baby as I saw the car pull out of sight, Chris's arm pinning back my shoulders, his other arm curled around my face so tight I thought he'd break it, whispering, "It's okay, Louis, alright? You can live with me till things work out, okay? It's okay, Lou. You can come live with me till things work out. Things'll work out. C'mon. It's okay. It's okay."

I curled my arm around Ro's face and pressed his head to my chest, kissing his hair. I could feel him weakly hugging me back, his small hands gripping the back of my shirt. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore. He was saying something into my shirtfront, something muffled by the fabric. "I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do," I thought he was saying.

~*~

Awhile later, we wandered back to the clearing. Ro's face was pale, his eyes looking as if they were hollowed out, as if he had nothing left in them to cry out. "Two bottles o' pop in the truck, Roman," Ro said suddenly, under his breath. "Two bottles o' pop in the flatbed. One's for you, y'hear? And if those hoodlums try to take your root-beer, just rip 'em a new one, y'hear?"

"Yessir," Ro mumbled to himself, his words slurring as he stared at the ground numbly. "Yessir, I hear."

Alaska

I was snapped from my delusional state when screaming erupted from the outside of the tent.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" was the first thing I heard, before a distant voice started talking or something. I couldn't tell, really.

Instead of laying there, I rolled off of the cot, slamming onto the sandy ground with a dull 'thud', then began half-crawling, half-dragging myself away from the rotten smelling leaves.

"What's going on?" I really didn't expect anyone to answer me, though. It was too loud outside, people screaming and crying and I just wanted to know what happened.

Stopping suddenly, I pushed myself to sit up, and began ripping at the medical-leaf-cast on the leg that was only (hopefully) bruised. My other leg, well, that wasn't going to be much help. I looked at it early, and it was charred. No healing that. I tore the last piece of leaf off, and studied my leg. Almost regular color. How long had I been in here?

I stood up, with the help of nobody, and hobbled out of the tent, surprised by the amount of pain that suddenly shot through my entire body. I pushed through it.

"Can somebody tell me what's going on?" I asked again, both glad and annoyed by how dark it'd gotten. "Please?"

"What're you doing out?" a voice asked from behind me.

I turned my head slightly to look at the person.

"And how the hell did you get out?" Her accent was thick, and I could barely understand her-- mostly because of everyone freaking out.

I shrug one shoulder, and force a straight face, "Walked out. What's going on?"

Ezzie crossed her arms over her stomach, which was only barely sticking out, "Katie was killed by some boy. The boy that killed her was tied to a tree. Now he's gone."

"Gone, gone? Or just gone?" I frown. I'd never talked to Katie before, but she was cute. I felt bad, kind of.

"Doesn't gone mean the same thing?" Ezzie turned to look away from me, as if she were looking for someone.

"No," I pause, and bend my knee to see if it would help the pain. Didn't work. "there's gone, as in missing, then there's...dead."

"Well, then he's probably dead," the girl cleared her throat, and glanced at me, "You need to go lay down. You look like you're going to be sick."

"I'm going to be sick if I go back in there."

"You're being dramatic."

"And you're being pregnant!"

"Alaska, honey, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm feeling excluded and sick from being stuck in a hole!"

"You were stuck in a hole?"

I slap my hands against my face, and shake my head.

"Look, just find somewhere to sit down, then. I've been meaning to change your bandages." Ezzie sighs, then turns to walk away.

"Thank god. I've been waiting months for you to," I grumble, and glance around for an empty spot to rest.

"What does that mean?" She turns back and frowns suddenly. "You've only been in the tent for, like, two days."



Fast forward to the next day, man

Last night, I remembered leaving the tent and talking to Ezzie. I didn't remember leaving the tent, talking to Ezzie, then going and passing out next to a guy named Chad.

Chad had to tell me that part.

Chad smelled like dirty shoe soup and moldy spaghetti.

I left Chad where he was once he told me.

The sun glared at me, threatening to make me look like a peach with a sun burn. It was early-- or, at least, I thought it was. Nobody was in the water. I assumed that maybe, I don't know, they were afraid it would bite.

I hobbled over to the water. It felt like it'd been years since I'd bathed. I thought it had been years since I'd bathed. Apparently, it had only been two. Days. Fuck.

Once I stepped into the lukewarm water, I sank to the ground, not caring that I still had my clothes on. The small waves pushed against my knees, and beckoned me to come in farther. I didn't take my chances, though. I could sit down and not be able to sit back up and then I'd die. Just like that. Instantly dead. I don't know.

After scrubbing at my head and skin, I stumbled out of the water, and, still having to drag my burned leg behind me, began wandering around. The pain I'd felt early and last night was now a dull throb, though it still hurt just as much, if not worse.

While the sand between my toes was a familiar feeling and the wind caressing my cheeks made me feel at ease, I couldn't help but notice the others-- still frantically moving and speaking in a rushed manner that I wasn't even sure they were speaking English. Surely they weren't still going on about that girls, Katie or whatever, death?

Well, it still made me sick thinking about it. It made me sick thinking about how that could happen to anyone.

Anyone.

Oh, man. Chris. It could happen to Chris.

With a sudden urge to find this boy and make him forgive me, I whip around and take off.

In search of the fool, I hobble with determination, and at some point, without realizing it, stumble upon a boy with sad brown eyes and extremely dirty blonde/brown hair. He was slumped against a tree, his eyes trained on the forest floor, and it took all I had not to walk away. Why would I walk away?

Because I'm a stupid dramatic girl. I don't know.

Without saying anything, I plop down in front of him, and wait, I didn't know how long it took, until he breaks his gaze with the dirt and barely meets my eyes.

"Wh.." His words wouldn't come out, and all I heard was a broken croak that cried for help. His hands shook just the slightest at his sides, and there were dark bags under his eyes. An image of fearless, restless, heroic Chris popped into my head, and I realized that that Chris was too old to be true anymore.

"Chris," I reach out and touch his knee, the part where his jeans were split and revealed skin that was scratched up and covered in soil. "Chris, I...I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to have a bad relationship because I couldn't take a hint. I don't want to be mad at you because somehow, in the midst of us fighting for our lives, feelings crept into me and I turned into an emotional teenager."

He blinked, and focused his eyes back on the ground, though he still nodded his head slightly as if he were listening. I frown, and hold myself back from touching his face.

"Chris, what's wrong?" I ask after a moment, and lean my head down slightly to see his face. "Are you okay?"

He startled me when he stood up so abruptly. It almost knocked me backwards.

As my arm lingers in the air from where it had rested on his leg, I stare at the back of him as he takes a step away from me, then again, and another. It didn't register to me that he was walking away until my arm started hurting and he was already out of reach.

"Chris, please," I say, "come back. Just come sit with me. I know you're tired, okay? I just want to talk. I just want to know what's going on. I've been locked in a tent for a couple days with little to no socializing and it's killing me, okay? Just come talk to me, okay?"

His feet stopped carrying him as I spoke, and he stood in his spot for a few minutes before dragging his feet back to me and silently crouching down in the spot he was in previously.

Once he was down, I tore a piece of my shirt off and, thankful that I was still damp, used it to dab at his face. He was dirty, and blood coated his clothing. I didn't know if I should press the situation here.

"What happened, Chris?" I ask after another moment, deciding it was worth the risk of knowing. "Why are you covered in blood?"

He flinched at my voice, and that was it. There was something wrong. Well, I knew there was something wrong before, but I hadn't realized it was this bad. I'd never seen him like this. I'd never witnessed him acting anything like this.

Before I could say anything else, his face scrunched up, his eyes squeezed shut, and an awful, heart-breaking sob escaped his lips. It made me feel hollow and useless. Without thinking about anything else, I slid my fingers through his over-grown, dirty hair, and gently led his head to my chest, then cradled him. Or, did the best I could. He was way bigger than me.

He didn't even object. He just laid limply against me, his cries slightly muffled by my body. I didn't say anything, just waited. For what, I didn't know.

We sat there until his voice was even more hoarse and he could barely get anything out. I still didn't move. And I was glad that he didn't, either.

I didn't want to ask him what was wrong again. I hoped that when he was ready, he would tell me. Which might take awhile.

Glad I didn't have anything planned.

"Why are you covered in blood?" she asked me, horrified, dabbing at my face with a cloth. Mothering me. I started thinking about blood. And whose blood it was, and then when James Bond got sniped on the train by his own partner in "Skyfall", and God, it's all my fault. I was crying before I knew it, heart falling through my chest. Laska had her fingers tangled up in my hair, and cradled my head to her chest. I forgot about her for a moment, and all I could hear was Rian's voice in my head.

Her words rang in my ears at an earth-shattering decibel. After that, they started to fade. Repeated, so many times until they no longer made any sense to me. Until they no longer meant anything. Until there was nothing left for me to cry about. Until she was gone.

She's gone.

Christ, I'm such a chick. Laska probably thought so. Like that, the emotions were gone. The thought of her displaced Rian like a basketball displaces water in a bathtub. It was too easy, and I guess my mind was on defense now, arms out and dodging all the feelings that tried to get in the lane. I'd always been good at blocking shots.

All that was left was a numbness in my chest. I sat back with bent knees and wiped my eyes. "God," I was murmuring. "I'm a coward."

"No, you're not," she said, sympathy in her eyes. I was already tired of people feeling sorry for me. But I guess I couldn't blame her; I couldn't even stop feeling sorry for myself. Since I'd left Thor back in the jungle, and Ezzie'd gone back to the beach to convince everyone to migrate further inland, I'd been trying to walk back to the beach. The thing was, I couldn't. Once I could see the field of bamboo, I always strolled along the perimeter and turned back, outlining the area in a wide circle. For some reason, I couldn't go back there. I couldn't see her, torn apart in the sand--I couldn't see the way the water was tinted magenta in the sunrise. I couldn't.

"My sister," I told her, "she's dead." My throat felt raw, and the skin around my eyes was pink and swollen. Laska's eyes widened, and then there were real tears in them. "I was supposed to protect her, and I didn't," I stated matter-of-factly. "I couldn't do it." I could feel the corners of my eyes crinkling, tears escaping. I wiped my nose. You're done crying, Chris, I told myself. You're done.

"Oh, Chris," Laska remarked, and her hand reached out to touch my face. She was only trying to help, and for a moment I wouldn't have it. But her golden eyes seemed to get bigger with every second. Jeez, she's only trying to help. She hesitated, as if I'd bite, but I took her fingers gently and brought them up to my cheek. Thanks, was what I told her in my mind, but I didn't say much of anything.

I had this sudden urge to go back to the beach. I wanted to splash around in the ocean and hear the gasps of the waves, of the same tide that took Rian's blood out to sea. I wanted to clean myself with that water. I wanted people to know I wasn't afraid; I wanted to show myself that I wasn't afraid.

"God, I'm so sorry," Laska said.

I said, "Don't be." I was looking down at my lap. I breathed in and out steadily. In through the nose, and out through the mouth. Like Coach told me, when I'd sprained my ankle junior year. It hurt like hell, and all I could do was watch through clenched teeth as Coach F. propped up my foot and mumbled feeble reassurances.

"What are you thinking?" she asked me tentatively.

Just then, there was a soft rustling of the leaves at the edge of the clearing, and Ezzie's small body entered. Hastily, I sat up straighter and wiped my face with my hand. I could tell my eyes were pink and swollen. I knew she would notice, but I still hoped she didn't. Ezzie made eye contact with me, but quickly darted her eyes away from mine. Shame and guilt filled them to the brim. I bit my tongue, clenched my teeth, anything to keep the sob in my throat from coming out.

"Hey," she said softly, addressing both of us, but looking at nothing but the ground in front of her. "I was looking for you guys. I should tell you that a lot of people have decided to move inland. And..." She glanced up at me again. Her dark hair was damp, and stuck to her face. I saw a bloodstain on the hem of her shirt. Her stomach was bigger than it had been before, but she wasn't fat. It almost looked like--I don't know. Like she was pregnant. "If it's okay with you, we thought we'd have the funeral service tomorrow. For Ree and Katie."

My stomach tightened at the mention of her name. I didn't give much of any acknowledgement. I guess I forgot to.

"Sounds good," Alaska said quietly. They were both talking so soft, like any raise in volume would break my ears. They were treating me fragile, and I hated it, goddammit, I hated it to high hell. What gives them the right to give her a funeral? I found myself thinking. What gives them the fucking right? I sat there until I couldn't take it anymore.

"What's that?" I asked suddenly, and both girls nearly jumped at my words. I rubbed the back of my head, damn near exhausted out of my mind. I felt numb. "What's that?" I repeated. "The funeral, what's that? Did they tell you they wanted a funeral? They say anything about that to you?" My words were slurring for some reason, mimicking the distant liquefaction of my sentences when I was drunk. A girl once told me she liked me better when I was drunk. But that was when her tongue had just been inside my mouth and I could still taste the tequila, and I'd learned not to trust that kind of judgement.

Instead of stammering or making a fuss, Ezzie only stood there. Her shoulders slumped, her figure meek. She stared at the ground. I felt bad for her, suddenly. Jesus, does she think it's her fault?

"I think it's a good idea," Laska said. "It's a good thing, to formalize it. Good for closure." She was looking at Ezzie. The moment had turned me around in a second. Immediately, like a switch, I went from hating the idea of a funeral to not giving much of a shit at all. I wondered if mood swings were a sign of denial. Or acceptance. Or death.

I guess it didn't much matter.

Ezzie nodded. She put a hand on her stomach. Pregnant, for sure, I thought. I once had this friend who got a girl pregnant. As it turned out, he cared a lot about the issue, just in all the wrong ways. I remembered him telling me he'd take it to court before he paid child support. I remembered thinking that if it had been me, I'd probably have done the same thing. The girl always had her hand on her stomach when I saw her around. She glanced around with her fingers firmly planted above her navel, like someone was about to walk right up to her and carve the baby out.

"Chris," Laska cut in on my thoughts gently. She looked me right in the eyes. I could practically see the words dancing on the tip of her tongue; "Are you alright?" Instead, she said, "You're okay." Telling me. Like it was a fact. "I mean," she said, "God, are you a wreck right now, but it's alright. You'll be alright."

I didn't know what to say to that. But she had a good way about her. I felt better some. Or, at least felt something, which was better than the numbness, anyway. I wondered why she'd had the sudden change of heart; it seemed like only yesterday that she'd been getting up my ass about treating her wrong. But whatever the reason, I was glad. Kissing her was nice, but it was something else that she cared for me, if not about me. Not many people did that.

"Alaska," Ezzie said. "You should get back to the beach. Your leg is probably hurting, isn't it? I should probably wrap it, shouldn't I?" Her green eyes were big, and she chewed her own lips. "And, I told you you shouldn't be walking around on it."

"It doesn't even--" Alaska started.

"Please," Ezzie said, quietly, looking about to cry.

So Alaska stood up, barely even stumbling on her leg--she hadn't been fibbing when she was about to say it didn't hurt. It looked better. A warm sensation spread through my chest, and I felt myself exhale. At least she was okay, even if not everyone could be.

She sent a fleeting look in my direction, and put her hand on the back of my neck affectionately before bypassing Ezzie and disappearing back into the trees. Ezzie was about to follow, but I stood up in a rush and grabbed her arm gently. "Ez," I said, and she looked at me, fighting tears. I took a breath so my voice wouldn't crack, and told her. "It isn't your fault." It hurt to say it, because if it wasn't her fault, then I guess it was mine.

~*~

The funeral was easier than I expected. I mostly just stood there, right hand grabbing my left wrist loosely in front of me. I stared at the ground with dark eyes as Eddie and P.J. shoveled dirt into the shallow grave. Eddie hadn't said anything about Gabriel, but he'd been looking at me strange all day.

I couldn't see her body; someone had covered it up with a white sheet. I was glad. I didn't want to see. I didn't want to remember.

They'd dug separate holes for my sister and the other girl. I couldn't tell which one was which, and I guess that was for the best. I hadn't thought to put on something black; no one had. I wasn't even sure if we had enough black clothes for everyone to wear. It was something I'd never really thought about before now, a cluster of mismatched, ragged-clothed kids standing in my periphery.

People went around and said things if they had things to say. It was mostly, she was a good friend or even I felt like she was the only person who really understood me. It was a bunch of was and had been. I hated it. I just wanted to leave. I wanted to wash my face.

"Chris?" I heard my name suddenly, and tried to refrain from keeping my head ducked, or pretending I hadn't heard. It was P.J.. "Chris?" he repeated, and his eyes were red. His blond hair was shaggy, and his complexion was streaked with dirt. "Don't you wanna say something?" He'd said "don't you", not "do you", so I guess it was an obligation that I say something. I decided that for his sake, I would.

I rubbed the back of my neck. I cleared my throat. There was a silence as I swung my arms back and fisted my other hand. I kept thinking. Finally, my voice a strange kind of quiet, "A lot of things died with her. And I'm sorry." It sounded empty but it felt like the truth. It felt like everything I had to say. And even though she couldn't hear those words--or any word I ever said again--I needed to hear them.

Then I left, just walked away. I couldn't watch anymore.

~*~

I felt better the next day.

The transformation was so complete that I almost believed all of it had been a dream--her death, the conversation with Alaska, the funeral. I got up, my face sticky with sleep, and walked down the beach. Nearly everyone else was asleep, snoring in their tents and twisting slightly in their skin as if they didn't belong in their bodies. When I got to the ocean, I waded in and pulled off my shirt. I let the water pour over my face, and scrubbed my hair until I could no longer feel grains of sand rolling beneath my fingertips. I washed my face until it was clean, changed into clean jeans and a slim gray sweater. I rolled the sleeves up mid-forearm.

After that, I made my way to the tree knot under which I'd hidden my duffel bag. Moving a few palm leaves aside, I wrenched the Gatorade, cologne, and gum from my bag, and used them all accordingly.

I wandered the shore for awhile, feeling like I had to expel the pent up energy inside of me. The day was overcast, gray clouds rolling overhead. The wind tangled in my damp hair, and breezed past my arms. I didn't think once of Rian. Not once. I had warded her haunting memory away for good, or at least for now.

Ahead, I spotted Alaska walking out of the Med Tent. She was wearing a baby-blue halter top and black denim shorts. They were fraying at the hem. She hardly even had a limp. She's fucking beautiful, I thought, almost completely consciously. I rubbed my hair and jogged over to follow her. She walked only a few paces through the sand, and then bent over to search through a cooler of water bottles. I leaned my shoulder and forehead against the cool bark of a palm tree. The tree stood about ten feet from Alaska. She dug through the tote intently, squatting to the ground, a light drizzle sprinkling on her shoulders.

"Laska, sweetie," I called, in a low voice.

She whipped around, and saw me, looking at her earnestly.

She smiled at me, furtively. I think she blushed. "You got some sleep." She said it gently, almost in the form of a question, standing to her feet. She rubbed the goosebumps on her arms.

"Yep," I replied.

"You're really clean," she said, sounding surprised.

"Yep," I said. "You want bubblegum?" I didn't wait for much of a reply. "Quick hands," I told her, before bringing my arm back and tossing her a piece.

She caught it, and--instead of popping it into her mouth--pocketed it. She walked towards me slowly, abandoning her mission at the cooler. She folded her arms, suddenly looking timid. Her brown eyes widened at me with every step, and her hand snaked up to her hair to fix it. Soon, she was standing a foot from me.

"Do you feel any better?" she asked me, unable to meet my eye. I lowered my head and followed her eyes until she caught mine. It was a trick I'd picked up on, and was quite good at. She eventually looked in my eyes, looking embarrassed. Or maybe something else.

"Sure," I said. I didn't really know; I wasn't good with real conversation. "How 'bout you? Your leg looks good." She followed my gaze down to her injured leg, shrugging. "Both your legs look good," I told her nonchalantly, chewing my gum.

She sighed. "Yup, you're feeling better." But I could see the pink creeping up on her cheeks.

"Hey," I said, real soft. She was staring into the sand, like there was treasure buried there. "Hey," I repeated, "Tex." I clocked her gently on the chin with my finger. She gazed up at me from the tops of her eyes. I reached out and slid my hand to the back of her neck, fingertips filtering through locks of curly hair. I ducked my head charmingly and leaned in, kissing her on the cheek. Her skin was soft. "Thanks," I whispered in her ear, exhaling. "For yesterday."

The clouds rolled overhead, thunder rumbling. Rain started to pour down in sheets, dripping down my nose, causing me to squint, arms falling back to my sides. Laska glanced up at the sky, surprised, before looking back at me. My eyelashes almost brushed against hers. She took my face in her hands, making me back up a step. She shook her head, and said, "I just hope you're--" The sounds of the downpour drowned her out.

"What?" I asked, my eyebrows jumping.

She raised her voice, water hitting her face. "I said, I just hope y--"

"Babe, I can't hear you for sh--" I yelled over the rain, and then she was kissing me on the lips, standing on her toes, fingers toying with my hair. My heart raced, a thrill rushing through my chest. She tasted like fruit, just like the first time, and I wondered if those were the kinds of things that never go away.

Ezra| Group A

Coming back to the news of the crazy... sickness that had infected that boy and caused him to go berserk (which was something I remembered vaguely from a game I had once played- some kind of poison that made you turn on your friends and kill them before you yourself died), to say the least, was a little bit unnerving.

However, it was nothing compared to the news of Rian. Ree. Chris's little sister, and he violently unimaginable death. We were so worried about disease, starvation, and the wild animals in the jungle, and forgot so completely about the animals of the sea.

It took a bit of convincing to get the kids to agree with the decision to move to the village, but Carlisle, I think, intimidated them into agreeance. Despite that, there were some that were easily persuaded because of the fear of being ripped to shreds by sharp teeth and sleek skin.

I just wanted to get off the island. I wanted to find Elvis, and get out. I still wore his shirt, big and baggy, and black. It made me feel like a tiny dwarf, despite how big my belly was getting each day.

If I counted back, I could estimate how many weeks along I was, when I should be going to the doctor, and when the first time I could know what gender the baby inside of me would be.

But I wasn't focused on that. My priorities had changed: save as many people as I can.

Since I had left that day, and two people died, I had obviously failed, and their deaths are my fault. I could have prevented them. I hated myself for letting the rest of the kids down like that.

Chris had told me it wasn't my fault, in the very beginning of the preparation days. Truth be told, it was. See, there aren't many people out here who are really leader types. Alaska, Chris, Me, even Eddie. Chris, mostly. He's sort of look at as the leader. But I'm right up there with him, depended on more than he is.

He's looked at to make the decisions, but I'm looked at to keep everyone safe. Alive. And I didn't.

Perhaps I was being too hard on myself, so I pushed that thought aside. I had to find out what possessed that guy to snap. So far, nobody else had had an inkling of crazy.

I looked at the food supplies, first. While everyone else was busy gathering things and even a few had taken off in the pouring rain to scout the little abandoned town of huts- taking the big and intimidating Carlisle with them as a precaution- I, along with my faithful sidekick Eddie, went thoroughly through the different berries and food we had. Whatever food- peanuts, chips, anything salvaged from the plane- had been used up, and now we were running on reserves gathered from the island. Truth be told, with each growing day, I felt that the island was a death trap. The fruits we had were all good, none that were too rotten (just bruised) or poisonous. Vegetables like sweet potatoes were good to eat, though were just boiled and eaten with salt gathered from boiling sea water. Then there was the meat. The animal that some of the boys had killed was stinking, bloody red meat just left in the sun. Other forms of meat came from seagulls or whatever fish we managed to reel in.

After going through inventory, Eddie and I found Chris and Alaska and sat in the medical tent for a chat.

I locked eyes with Chris, and he glanced down at my hand resting on my protruding stomach. He knew. Alaska didn't seem to be her usual grumpy self, and Eddie was determined to understand what had happened.

I cleared my throat, "So, um, that kid wasn't in his right mind."

Chris scoffed. "He went crazy, that's for sure."

Alaska, who had been locked up in the tent the entire time, shrugged, and Eddie spoke up.

"We went through the food. Every detail. All the food we had before was okay. The fruits, the vegetables, the fish, and even the birds."

I nodded, "Yeah. Everything we found was normal, as far as we could tell. Nothing we'd never had before. We did tell some kids to take that rotting carcass out and ditch it somewhere. It was getting too gross to stand." Truth be told, I had paused to throw up a few times from the stench.

Chris nodded. "Wait- the animal."

"It was some wild species probably indigenous to this region. I didn't trust it, so I didn't eat it." Eddie told us, brushing his hair back with his fingers.

"Who all ate it?" Alaska asked, finally speaking up.

"I'm not sure. A handful of people ate hunks of it charred over the fire."

I sighed. A handful. Chances are, when that kid flipped, he had probably had some bad meat. Some kind of disease.

Chris had the same thought, but he vocalized it. "I'm going to tell them NOT to eat any meat from this island. The fish is okay. But the rest of it is no good."

After the meeting, I felt like we had accomplished something. Chris jogged off to tell them to definitely good rid of the meat and Eddie told me to take a nap while he sorted out the herbs I brought back.

With a nod, I fell asleep.



I slept through the entire night, and woke up with the urge to vomit. Oh, morning sickness, my old friend.

Alaska peered at me from the other bed. "It's still dark out, preggers. Go back to sleep."

"Oh, how i wish I could." I stood up and slipped my feet into my loose shoes, then slipped out of the tent.

I found Chris asleep at the base of a tree and nudge him awake with my toe. "Go lay on a damn cot."

He trudged into the tent and i heard Alaska murmur something to him before he grunted and then there was silence.

I sat by the graves for a minute and muttered a prayer, then stood up and waded into the water for a quick cleaning.

I didn't hear him at first, but his voice broke the silence. "You're getting pretty big, aren't you?"

I whirled around and clasped my hands over my bare breasts. "Wha? Go away!"

The kid just smiled, "I'm not going to hurt you or perv on you. I'm just admiring how beautiful the pregnant body is."

I sank into the water and he flashed a grin. The sun was beginning to come up, and I could see the glinting of something in his hand.

"Why don't you come get out of the water, Ezra?"

I swallowed nervously. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Wasn't a question. Come here, or I'll chase you further. To the sharks."

My mouth was drying quickly. This kid, he had eaten the meat. He was crazy. There was no telling exactly what effects that the island animal meat had, but I assumed it would be a little different for each person who consumed the disgusting substance.

While I was thinking, he had waded into the water and grabbed my arm. "C'mon." He grinned, pressing the cool steel blade to my stomach. "Follow me, or else."

I shook with fear, but followed him as he yanked me across the beach, though he stopped to collect my clothes and toss the large shirt onto my head. I put it on, and he led me into the woods.

When we were decently surrounded by the trees, he dropped his hold on me, and walked behind me, to survey the small clearing we had reached.

Then, with some sort of sick crack to his voice, he called me again. "Ezra, come here, baby."

And then I broke.

Alaska

"I just hope you're doing better,"

"I just hope you know I'm sorry,"

"I just hope you know we're getting off this island,"

"I just hope you know I don't want to forget you,"

"I just hope you know I'm going to tell you,"

"I just hope you know there's a million ways to say this,"

"I just hope you know I was finally starting to love you."

It was like a picture show; like I was looking at a black and white movie and little specks were running across the screen, and the rain in the background meant nothing to the two that were drenched and looked like shit and it was like I was watching a show. Because everything that I'd ever wanted, I'd seen on a show; I'd seen this exact image, except with different people, on several romance movies and all I'd ever wanted was that to happen to me.

Except, well, I didn't expect it to be so...well, wet. Cold. Weird. He's not weird, it was just weird making out with a guy like him in a place like this with weather like this. It was weird.

But I liked it, in a different kind of way. In a way that said, "Maybe you won't be trapped inside yourself for the rest of your life, after all. Or maybe you will. Who knows."

Chris pulled at my wet locks of hair, his lips moving against mine and saturated body pushed against my own. It was like the rain wanted to pull us apart; give us some reason not to be close right now.

As I pulled at the sleeves of his shirt, somebody's voice attempted to yell over the screaming of the wind and roaring of the sea. I pretended not to hear, but Chris didn't- I felt him pull away, just the slightest, to see what it was.

I didn't want this moment to end-- I felt like I could do anything, just to keep this going. But his lips weren't on mine anymore, and our hands were linked, and he was leading me to a dry roof and something that smelled like mint and must. Well, no, never mind, the mint was coming from Chris. It just smelled like BO in here.

"Are you guys stupid?" Ed, I now recognized, scowled, "You could get sick, being out there. I need people that can walk and talk to help me out tomorrow, so we can begin packing up and travelling to the new village."

With a shivering body but a smile spread across my lips, I nod, and hobble over to one of the cots. Chris was glancing out of the doorway, and the sound of the wind and rain attacking our little hut was extremely loud and worrisome.

"The storm's gonna tear this place apart if it gets any worse," Ed grumbled after a second, sliding his feet across the sand as he joined Chris at the doorway. "With how it's going now, I'd say it probably won't get that bad tonight. But it'll most likely come back tomorrow, 10x worse."

Chris scoffed and shook his head, "This place just gets better and better."

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

After, I don't know, maybe an hour or two (or three, maybe four) later, the rain began to settle, the sea halted to a whimper, and the wind pushed lightly against the trees outside, causing a slight rustle.

Ed was slumped against a makeshift table, his eyes closed and drool sailing down his chin, and Chris was still standing next to the doorway.

"I-" I pause, my voice rustier than I remembered, "I'm sorry. I don't know if that was a wrong move, back there. I know you're going through a lot, and you and Saph had something, and I really shouldn't get involve-"

"You? Get involved?" Chris cuts me off, his voice soft, "Sweetheart, you're knee deep in this. There's no goin' back, you know?"

With furrowed brows and dripping hair, I stare at my legs; about how, a week ago, I was immobile because they were destroyed. It amazed me how much my body cared, that it repaired itself just to support me. It went through god knows what, just to make me happy. I don't know.

"What do you mean?" I ask after a moment, "What're you thinkin', Chris?"

I wasn't looking at him, but I could hear him shift, as if he were either uncomfortable or just uncertain, "That I should go swimming tomorrow, before we start getting ready for the transition."

"Swimming?" My eyes trailed up to him at that, because I didn't understand why he would want to get in the tainted water that ended his sibling. The water that stole his sisters last breath, the water that drank his little sisters blood, the water that contained monsters that we couldn't even dream of. But then-- well, I realized that maybe he wanted to swim just to swim. But, I was sure there was more behind it. "Maybe I'll go with you. Swimming, I mean, before you guys leave."

"What do you mean, 'you guys'? You're coming with us," he said, his voice louder and his eyes now on me. When I didn't say anything, he repeated, "You're coming with us."

I shake my head and smile up at him, "I just...feel like somebody else needs to stay back. In case, you know, rescue finally comes. Plus...I just don't feel right leaving here. There's got to be something worse in that forest, something worse than thunderstorms."

"Laska," Chris' voice was steady-- like a dangerous calm, how my pa used to speak when I told him I was going against tradition, "you're coming with us. Nobody's coming to the rescue. We have no other choice but to go to that village. You've been there, you know how much safer it'll be."

"Chris, really, I'll be fine here with...whoever else decides to stay," I laugh, though nothing was funny; I just wanted to try and lighten up the mood, but I could tell that wasn't an option here. "Honestly. I can take care of myself, you know?"

But he didn't say anything else. I thought I'd upset him, but before I could say another word, he gave me a look that I thought said "we'll discuss this later", as if we were a married couple and we were arguing over house expenses, then he was trudging out the doorway and into the darkness. I didn't have the energy to chase after him. Instead, I released a sigh, laid back and, eventually, drifted into a dreamless slumber.

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

I didn't know how long I'd been asleep, but when I was woken up, it was still dark outside, and Ezzie was across from me. Drowsily, I mumbled, "It's still dark out, preggers. Go back to sleep."

Although, she only replied with, "Oh, how I wish I could," before the crunching of her feet on top of the sand drifted out of the little tent.

A few moments later, I could hear a voice, then footsteps; I was expecting Ezzie to come back through the doorway. Not Chris. But when he did, I didn't feel tired anymore.

Instead of laying on the cot that Ezzie had been laying on, he waltzed over to me, nudged at my leg, and plopped down next to me when I scooted over.

"What's up?" I ask, popping the 'p'.

He smelled of earth, mint and cologne, and for some reason, that was comforting, "Care to chat?"

"Well, I was thinking about going back to sleep," I offer a smile, though I doubted he could see it in the dark, "but I guess I could stay awake a little longer."

Feeling exhausted, I waltzed over to Laska's cot and nudged her leg. She moved over. I sat down next to her, and then rolled onto my stomach, elbows underneath me. My head slightly above hers. "Care to chat?" I mumble-whispered. I could see the curve of her face silhouetted in the darkness.

She shifted slightly, her leg knocking mine. "Well, I was thinking about going back to sleep, but I guess I could stay awake a little longer."

I could hear the smile in her voice. I wondered if she was still thinking about how we made out on the beach. I was still thinking about it, how she had pulled at the sleeves of my shirt and pressed her lips against mine, like she actually wanted me. But I was mostly thinking about the next time I could kiss her.

"So," I muttered, in just above a whisper, "when we move to the village tomorrow, you wanna be buddies?"

"What?" she asked, raking a hand through her curls. I could tell she was still half-asleep.

"Like in grade school," I said, "when we'd have partners and hold hands in the hallways so we wouldn't get lost." My eyes were adjusting a little, and I could see the slight upturn of her lips. She shifted and turned onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow.

"I never said I was moving to the village," she remarked. Goddammit, I thought. I was almost sure she'd been falling for my rhetoric. I exhaled. I had sensed a hint of reluctance in her voice. Silent, thinking, I stretched my right arm. "Look," she said, almost timidly, "I just wanna get rescued, alright? It's not any safer in the forest than it is on the beach. At least I can see the sunset on the beach, and the horizon, and boats or planes if they come. You can't see any of that in the jungle."

"People are staying on the beach," I said, almost irritably. "It doesn't have to be you." Then I let my elbow collapse beneath me, spinning and flopping down on my back. She was above me now, looking over me at my right. I sighed, seeing her eyes flash in the sliver of moonlight streaming from a slit in the tent flap. "Besides," I said, "in the jungle, there're things better than sunsets." I flashed her a smile, reaching over and touching her nose.

She caught my finger with a small giggle, and settled down on her stomach. "Oh yeah?" she asked, her face right next to mine. "Like what?"

I maneuvered my finger from her grip and held her hand with mine, bringing it under the hem of my shirt. Her hand was warm on my stomach. "There're things," I said, lowering my voice.

She poked me in the abs, hard. I let go of her hand in surprise, and she moved her arms under her head. Looking away, she said, "If you think I'm gonna move out there for you, then you're crazy."

Her comment took me aback, and I couldn't help but feel a little hurt. It was like something hit me in the heart. Somehow, after all this time, I couldn't stop thinking about her. The way her brown eyes widened and her wild curls bubbled through her fingers, and the way she smiled, like it was meant just for me. I was selfish that way; I liked when things were meant just for me and no one else. That smile turned me inside out. Her lips made my heart race. It hadn't yet slowed down, even now, and as I looked at her I felt my chest pounding like we'd just kissed a second ago. It felt like when I was a little boy sitting at the top of a roller coaster, just waiting to go down.

Laska's kneecaps tightened as she curled her legs up. I let my head fall back, staring up at the top of the tent. I tried to forget about it. She was just another girl who kissed me and then didn't much mind whether I left or stayed. I'd had my share of those.

Somehow it wasn't so easy with her. It wasn't so easy to forget.

Then she looked over at me through the corner of her eye. I could tell because I saw her in my periphery. She must've known she had upset me, because she turned her head towards me. "I just wanna get rescued," she tried meekly, wanting some kind of justification. And then, "You can't protect everybody, Chris."

"Yeah," I whispered, exhaling slowly. "I just wanna protect you." I said it quietly and almost hoped she didn't hear. It was such an unlike-me thing to say, and I knew it. I silently finished with but you won't fucking let me.

But her eyebrow rose slightly, and her eyes closed. She let out a breath, and it shook slightly. Then she leaned her face forward, touching her nose to my cheek. She reached for my arm, feeling around for my hand and then tangling her fingers with mine. I let her. I brought our hands up to my mouth and kissed them.

"You do whatever you want, baby," I mumbled, feeling my eyes close. "I'll be right here if you want me."

All of the sudden, I heard her crying softly, and my heart jumped in surprise. But my breathing slowed, and my eyelids felt heavy. I reached a hand over to her face limply, my fingers threading through her hair, but God, I was so tired. I felt her kissing my cheek and then underneath my jawline before I drifted off to sleep.

~*~

I woke in the morning to the sounds of the rain hammering and pattering furiously on the tarp. Laska was cuddled up to me, the top of her head underneath my chin, her hand curled into an open fist on my chest. A bright silver light peeked through the flap of the tent.

"Chris!" I heard a fierce whisper from the makeshift doorway. It was Eddie, looking like he got no sleep. The bags under his eyes were a dark purple, and his whole posture slumped as if his spine was compressing. He called my name again, motioning for me to come over.

I groaned softly, nodded an alright, alright and snuck out from under Laska's body. She stirred, and she might've woken up, but I was already on my way to Eddie at the edge of the tent. My eyes were still sleepy, my eyelashes sticking to my cheeks when I blinked, and I'm sure my hair was sticking up like my mom used to always fuss over before school. My clothes were held up and pulled around like I felt like I was ten years old again, tiptoeing out of my bedroom to conspire with Rian about some ploy against Mom and Dad.

Eddie crossed his arms. I looked outside, squinting. That's one big-ass downpour, I thought, as Eddie nudged me. "Something happened last night, with the pregnant girl," he was saying.

I put my hands on my hips. "Yeah? Something like what?"

Eddie frowned worriedly. He rubbed his mouth with the palm of his hand. "Something like Gabriel all over again."

My mouth rounded in an 'o', my eyebrows raising. "Gabriel?"

"Not Gabriel exactly," Eddie said, narrowing his eyes at me. "But I heard Ezzie screaming. She was screaming, so I tried to follow where--where I thought the noise was coming from. It was later last night, during the storm. It was dark, but I finally made my way into the jungle. Eventually the screaming stopped, and hell, I mean, I was scared half to death--" Eddie stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. "--but eventually I got to a good-sized clearing. And there she was, laying on the ground, with blood on her face where she must've hit her head. There was a cut on her stomach, too--it looks to be from some kind of serrated knife."

Heart beating, I opened my mouth to talk.

"The baby's fine," Eddie interrupted before I could say a word. "At least I think so. It's hard to tell." There was a pause.

My eyes widened. "Well, did you ask her what happened?"

Ed nodded quickly. "Yeah, sure, I did. She said some guy was threatening her. Said he came to her while she was washing in the ocean, and held a knife to her stomach. Hardly let her put her clothes back on before he made her follow him into the jungle. I don't know, it sounds awful, doesn't it?"

I folded my arms thoughtfully. "What happened next?"

Eddie paused, and then, rubbing his sunburnt neck, "She said he tried to--hurt her. And the baby. So she tried to run, but he caught her, and...there was a struggle. But eventually, he just ran off into the woods." Eddie shrugged. "Seems strange, but that's what she said."

"Was it Gabriel?" I asked, fearing the answer.

Looking at me steadily, Eddie hesitated. "No, she said he was different," he said finally. And then, leaning a little closer, "I was meaning to ask you, Chris--did you ever find out what happened to Gabriel that night?"

My chest seized with panic, and my stomach tightened. I crossed my arms more firmly, and then shrugged. "I heard he ran off, same as you."

Eddie looked suspicious, but didn't address the topic further.

"Where is she now?" I asked. "Ezzie, where is she?"

He gestured over to a cot in the adjacent tent. "Med Tent," he clarified. "I've been watching over her, just in case that loon decides to come back." He sighed. "Which reminds me of why I brought you over here. What do you think we should do about this? Crazy people running wild in the forest doesn't exactly positively advocate for the migration into the village."

Not knowing what half the words he said meant, I tried the best I could to figure it out using context clues. I furrowed my brow. "I guess we keep our mouths shut. The village is still the best option, based on the better housing. Not to mention better access to food and water. But the others won't be able to see past fact that there's crazy dopes that might jump out and kill 'em in the middle of the night."

"I'm starting to wonder if I can see past that," he admitted. Eddie was looking out at the collected rain, which dripped steadily from the lip of the tent frame. "There's starting to be a lot of secrets around here, Chris."

"I know," I said. "It's a good thing, too. There's some things people don't gotta know."

"No," Eddie said, his mouth flattening, "There's just some things that're hard to tell."

I shook my head with bitter resignation, not agreeing but not wanting to say so. "When's the train leaving?" I asked him.

"For the village? An hour, tops."

"And you're still in?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "Yeah, I'm still in."

Just then, I heard footsteps behind me in the sand. Eddie slunk away as Laska approached me, looking adorably tired. I couldn't help but smile. "Morning, sweetheart," I said.

"Hey," she replied, blushing slightly.

"You ready for a swim?" I asked.

"Okay," she said, even after she looked out and saw that it was pouring. I smiled wider, and ducked out of the tent. She followed, and we rushed to the shore, me stripping off my shirt. I could hear Eddie yelling from the tent, bidding us to come in out of the rain, but it only made Laska laugh. She ran out into the waves, feet kicking up water. I slowly followed, wading in. This is where her body was, I thought. This was where her blood got washed out to sea.

It was like taking a tour through a museum with artifacts I remembered holding when I was younger, perhaps in their real setting. The tour guide leading me through the rooms, telling me about what happened in my own life. Me, looking at the artifacts and wondering if it had really been me who'd held them. If it'd really been me who'd lived in that moment. If it'd really been me who'd dropped her body into the sand and ran into the jungle, hoping to find some kind of closure but never really getting it.

This was where she died in my arms.

"C'mon!" Laska called, walking backwards.

I thought I would cry for a second, but then I started jogging into the waves that lapped harshly against the beach, until I was knee deep. I ran into the ocean then scooped up Laska until we both fell underwater. Our faces knocked together before she pulled me back up, and splashed me like Rian had, right in the face. Laska giggled and rain was hammering down on us, streaming down her face, and instead of splashing her back I kissed her. Hard, running my tongue around her teeth. Then twice more, and then I pulled back, even as she went for my lips again.

"I gotta tell you something, but you can't tell anyone else." I was practically yelling over the rain. Laska squinted her eyes in confusion. Or maybe just to see me through the torrential downpour.

"What?"

"I'll tell you inside."

~*~

I had to tell her what happened to Ezzie. She deserved to know. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, she ran to the Medical Tent. Ezzie had woken up, and Laska demanded that Ez tell her the whole story straight from the beginning. I stood in the entrance of the tent, wide-eyed and soaking wet. Eddie poked his head in and handed me a towel. Laska was still freaking out over Ezzie.

I took the towel and rubbed it over my hair and face. "I thought we weren't telling anybody," Eddie said, lending a wary eye to where Laska and Ezzie were deep in conversation. "Not to mention--isn't that your girlfriend? The one you wanted to move into the village with you?"

"She had the right to know," I retorted, pulling on a shirt.

"And the rest of them don't?" Ed countered.

"They're best friends," I tried, though I found it hard to contradict his point of view. "She's the only exception I'll make."

"Of course," he commented sarcastically, "because you're always the one calling the shots, right?"

Indignantly, I nodded. "Yup," I said, "That's right."

~*~

"You're coming," I insisted.

"I don't know," Alaska said. She was getting on my nerves.

"Ezzie's going," I said. "She told me herself. She said she felt safer if she had four walls surrounding her instead of a bunch of open-ass space, and she's right, Laska. You'll be safer in there with me than you will be here. I don't give a shit whether you're on the beach for the rescue plane or not. I'm sorry, but I don't. If they see someone on the beach, they're gonna land whether you're here or not, and they'll wait for the people in the jungle whether you're here or not. So don't give me that." I was angry, and she was clearly intimidated. She looked down, and her face reddened. She backed away.

I let out a breath. "Please," I told her. "I care a lot about you, alright? I don't want you to get hurt."

Slowly and timidly, as if she was going to wake a lion, she said, "And you're going to prevent that?"

"Yeah," I told her, loudly, "Hell yeah. If there's one guy who can pull his weight around here, it's me, and a lot of people can testify to that."

She whispered, "Brayden Summers can't."

My eyes softened, and I looked away. My hands went to my pockets, a boyish gesture, and my head tipped down. She winced, realizing the effect what she'd said had on me.

"That's done and over with," I finally mustered the courage to tell her, "and I'm a different person now."

I suddenly heard a voice from behind me. "What, since yesterday, when you buried your dead sister?"

Laska inhaled sharply, or maybe it was me. Heart aching, blood rushing, I turned around. It was Matt, or maybe Mark. I didn't fucking remember his name. He stood just under the makeshift awning of the tent, crossing his arms. He wasn't smiling, but he might as well have been. Rage boiled underneath my skin, and my muscles tensed. Fists clenched. "Fuck you," I told him in a low voice, steady with fury.

Matt/Mark seemed unfazed. "It's true, isn't it?" he said, uncrossing his arms and standing up straight. "You couldn't even protect your own sister. How're you gonna protect her, huh?" Matt/Mark's eyes shifted to Alaska and then back to me. Then a grim smile twitched around his lips. "I mean, sorry if that upsets you, but sometimes the truth hurts, doesn't it, Mahoney?" He somehow had the gall to continue, gaining confidence for each word I didn't speak. "It's time to start facing the facts. Maybe we oughta reconsider who we're calling the leader around here. It seems like every time you're told to take responsibility for someone, you lose them." He started counting off on his fingers. "The guy with the tweed shorts. Knife Girl." He paused. "Rian."

"Don't say her name," I said through clenched teeth, and then was grabbing him by his shirt, punching the shit out of him. Laska didn't try to break it up, and I swear, I could kiss her for that. He tried to hit me back, hands slapping at my face. But I held him firmly by the neck of the shirt and I punched him until his nose bled. Then I left him alone. I dropped him in the sand and I left him alone. He cursed at my back.

Breaths heaving, pulse racing, I walked stoically out of the tent. The rain had slowed down slightly. I made a beeline for where I'd hidden my duffel under the knot of the tree, and yanked it from its refuge. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I went back, having walked off most of my anger. My fingers pushed my phone deeper into my back pocket and out of the rain.

When I got back to the tent, Eddie was waiting for me. Not in the mood for a lengthy conversation, I tried to push on past him, but he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. He looked ticked off.

"Seriously?" he said to me. "Beating people up just because you got mad? That's super mature."

Appalled, my mouth fell agape. I forced my jaw up and my lips together. My expression fell flat. "He was the one who decided not to play nice. Now get outta my way." I practically walked through him, but he kept on, eyes flaring up.

"You need to stop," Eddie chided, as if he was my Mom. I snorted, and then saluted him sarcastically.

"Sure, okay, boss." I tried again to leave. I wasn't going to let any kid my age tell me what to do. But he stationed himself in front of me; I couldn't pass him unless I decided to plow through him.

"You're getting people all worked up around here. This isn't the football field, and these kids aren't your football team, Chris. You can't make a bunch of incompletes and still have your squad at your back."

"Actually, it's exactly like that," I said. "I've made some incompletes, alright? And I can admit to that." I pointed to the beach expanse behind me. "But everyone out there knows I know what's up. They trust me. They know I care and that I do shit to back that up. They know I'm the quarterback, and that I win more than I lose, and they respect that."

Eddie had his arms crossed. He was shaking his head. "I'm starting to think..." He glanced down at his feet, shoving his toe into the sand. "I'm starting to think maybe Mark was right."

I blinked at him. What? I looked out at the beach. Did people not trust me? Was it like they said?

"Maybe we should talk about getting a new leader."

Not able to help it, I laughed out loud. "Listen to yourself, with all your 'American government' shit," I remarked. "This isn't a fuckin' democracy. We don't vote on who has the biggest dick. You go on missions, you know what's up, and then you're in the loop. You're in the fucking loop, Ed. You're in the loop."

Face reddening, Eddie said, "All I'm saying is, you need to take some proaction--"

"I'll take proaction and put my foot up your ass." I cut in. Eddie's face reddened even moreso, his mouth falling agape. I forced my way past him and into the Med Tent.

Ezzie was sitting on one of the cots against a pillow, absent-mindedly rubbing her hand over her stomach. She looked traumatized, and I didn't blame her for that. Laska was perched on the edge of that same bed, picking at a thread in the poor mattress. I caught her eye, and she hastily looked away. Then she seemed to change her mind. She stood up and walked over to me. Didn't hesitate before wrapping me in a hug. Taken aback, I put my arms around her loosely.

"I'm sorry," she said into my shoulder. I could feel her lips moving as she talked. "I'm sorry for doubting you." Then she pulled back, and actually looked into my eyes, her face flushing. I looked straight back, unabashed. "I'm going too the village. With you. I'm with you." Her eyes widened, and I could tell she really was sorry.

"It's alright," I said, pretending I wasn't still hurt about what she said.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to tell if I meant it. I was a good liar, so she saw right through me. Then she smiled, a little bit of a nervous smile; lips turning up, brows lowering, eyes reshaping. "We can be buddies if you want."

The corner of my mouth twitched. "That means we'd have to hold hands and not get lost. Can you manage that?"

She laughed softly, face flushing. "Yeah," she replied. "As long as you don't let go."

"I'll never let you go," I said, letting myself smile at her. It was funny how she could change my mood just by talking to me.

"Y'know what happened the first time we went off in the jungle together," Laska reminded me. "You had me calling you Ace for almost a whole day."

Letting my head fall back, a grin on my face, I said, "That's right. Ace Charles. The great football player who rips his jeans in the jungle, right?"

"Yeah," she said, laughing, shifting her weight to her other hip.

"I couldn't help it," I said, lowering my head and scratching the back of my neck. "You were too gullible to pass up."

Rolling her eyes, she told me, "Let's go, Ace." She reached for my hand and took it. I liked the way her fingers felt in mine. "Don't want to hold up the line, do we?"

"Oh, babe," I said, my other hand on my chest, "I'm the line leader. They wait for me." She bursted out in laughter, a hand flying to her mouth. She laughed so hard I couldn't help but join in. "Was that funny?" I asked her. "Am I funny? What do you think?" Still grinning wildly, she pulled me along, blushing slightly.

~*~

It was a long hike to the village. Eddie walked on one side of Ezzie, and Laska walked on the other. I could tell she was terrified; she kept glancing around. Probably wondering if that crazy bitch would come back and try to kill her or her baby. I didn't say that, of course; I had to censor myself around these people, or else apparently I'd be voted off the island. That, and I wasn't out to hurt anyone's feelings or scare her anymore than she already was.

It took us almost an hour to get there, but soon enough, we came over the hill and entered the clearing. There were at least thirty houses, but there were thirty-six of us, so a few people had to double up. Laska and Ezzie moved into a house together, which I guess was for the best. I told Laska I'd help carry her stuff, but she denied, seeing that all she had to carry was a single backpack of odds and ends clothes. I extended the offer to Ezzie, but she just mumbled a distant "no, thanks" and followed after Laska.

I turned and strolled into the adjacent house. Feeling the same odd urge to hide my things like I had at the beach, I stuffed my duffel bag under a tarp, which I formed into a vague bed-shape. That way I could use my bag for a pillow. Multipurpose duffel bag. I proudly looked at my masterpiece, and then ruffled back through my duffel for my half-empty Gatorade bottle. I looked at it forlornly.

Suddenly, a noise sounded at my back. I turned, and saw Ezzie standing in the doorway.

"Chris?" she asked, her voice scratchy and dry. I raised my eyebrows, standing up.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I need to get my baby off this island. I can't have it here." She was looking at the doorframe as she talked. "So I came up with an idea of how to leave." She shrugged, her eyes vacant.

I blinked, surprised, and then asked, "What idea? What is it?"

"We can build a raft," she said.

A raft? It was a good plan, and I'd thought of it before. But that was when I was still expecting to be rescued. I contemplated the idea, rubbing my hand over my lips. As I was immersed in thought, Ezzie continued.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get the hell off of this island."

Then I nodded, thinking that if the people weren't going to come rescue us, we were going to have to rescue ourselves. Suddenly, I was set on the idea. There was nothing more that I wanted in that moment than to never see that island again.

"Yeah," I said to Ezzie, as she stared down at her stomach. She looked up at me at the sound of my voice. I finished with, "Me fucking too."

Laska

"Life is like an old house; it gets used,
worn-out and old.
Then it's time to move to another.
Life is just a place where your soul lives while it's on earth.
When your soul gets tired of living on earth it finds a new home.
As time goes by, so does your Life.
So live life to the fullest, and don't let a day go by without cherishing it."

(l.h.)

Four weeks into the frickin' future

I heaved the woven basket over my shoulder, then onto my head, the fruits and sticks colliding with each other as I took steady steps towards the hut that I shared with Ezzie, who was pretty prego.

"Dang, girl," Ezra giggled once I pulled the basket off of my dome, "you've got mad skills."

I cracked a smile at her, my hands aching and feet throbbing. I bet she felt worse.

"Knock, knock," the voice of the guy I'd spent the last four weeks being buddies with called from the doorway, "We're heading out. You guys're staying here."

I almost assumed that was a question and he just wasn't good at emphasizing today (or any other day), but he offered an obstinate smile and shoved his hands into his tattered jeans.

My eyes ran over him; the sun had tanned him nicely, and with the resources we had here, all of us could finally look like we actually had meat on our bones. Not much, but still. His eyes weren't as sunken in, and I assumed he'd bathed today, because his hair was shiny and looked smooth.

"You checkin' me out, Oklahoma?" Chris grinned at me, his teeth doing one of those twinkles you see on TV.

I shrug with little effort, and pull at a lock of curls, "Might be. Or I'm wondering when you're gonna zip your fly."

Chris glanced down to find that he was fine, and Ezzie's laughter filled my ears as she turned towards me, "Why don't you guys get married already?"

Marriage. I wondered how much she thought about Elvis; her boyfriend, the father of the child in her stomach. Her future husband. He still hadn't shown up, but she still had hope. It was as if she knew he was alive. I couldn't believe the will and faith she had in her. It was admiring.

"Anyways," I sigh, and rake a hand through the tumbles of ringlets, "I don't plan on fighting your authority-- today. I've got some things I gotta get done-"

He seemed wary for a moment-- as if I were telling him that I was going to go scavenge the island in search of the great monstrosities that lurk.

"-in the village. I'm going to make some more baskets. Dig up some worms. I'm not going anywhere, okay? Jeez," his lips still remained pursed, but he shrugged and gave me a nod; giving me permission. "Where are you guys going?"

"Point A-- you know, the one I told you about with the big oak tree. We need more wood and herbs, plus there was berries last time we went. Eddie thinks he can tell if they're poisonous," Chris explains prominently, "everyone's putting their trust in this raft. I just hope they don't expect a lot from it."

"Tip: don't take anything or touch anything that's on a vine," Ezzie says sternly, "look for black or blue. Maybe even deep red. Anything other than that, and we're on this islands hit list."

"Everyone that's still alive is on this islands hit list," I scoff, and cross my arms, "I wouldn't take it personally."

"I do take it personally. I'll be damned if this place is going to put my child on it's stupid little list," Ezzie frowns, then pulls her feet onto the bed with her, "anyways, you should get going, Chris."

I nodded in agreement. His lips twitched, and I pictured the leaves from yesterday and the feel of his breath on my ear. Yesterday was a good day.

"Scream if you need anything," Chris smiled, and just as he was leaving, I hurried forward; I didn't say anything, just slid my hand through his once we were on the outside of the hut. "Afternoon, cupcake."

"I know you don't believe me," I breathe, and glance around us; a couple people were milling around, but nobody was really paying attention, "I'm really staying here. I'm not looking to get killed today, all right?"

"Why should you have to explain yourself to him?" a familiar voice questioned from the back of my head. "You can do whatever you want."

I didn't miss the dark times I was in when this voice first came around.

Chris nods, his face remaining the same, as if he were thinking otherwise; I hated how he did that. But I couldn't change how he thought.

"Also, reason why I came out here; do you think you could do me a favor?" I ask, my eyebrows lifting from their usual resting place.

With a smug smirk and a raised brow, Chris tugged me closer and said, "Depends on what the favor is."

I roll my eyes and say with a snort, "Hevea brasiliensis."

"Um," his eyes glanced at my lips once, "English?"

"Rubber tree," I laugh, and switch my weight to the other leg, "maybe about a teen-foot-long tree. It's got really thick leaves, and the bark is light. It has...liquid in it that's really useful. Could you look around, attempt to spot one?"

"Yeah, sure," he nodded, and looked over my shoulder, "we're about to go. They're just waiting on me now."

"Sounds like I'm holding up the line," the words slip between my teeth, and he smiles before pulling me closer and kissing me, his words transforming into short breaths and his hands sliding into my hair; this was the kind of kiss that almost matched with the last moment we shared in the place that killed his sister.

I knew the others were waiting on him, but I didn't want to pull away. I didn't want to stop being close to him. But we both had shit to get done, and I couldn't put those things off simply because I didn't want to wait a couple hours to be able to be in this moment again.

I pulled away, but he tugged me back for another kiss, and I let him. Then he caught on, pulled back away, and untangled himself from me.

"Catch you on the flip side," I grin, and wipe my lips, "partner?"

"If you leave the village and die, I will kill you," Chris says, regarding my previous comment, "please, Laska. Okay?"

I nod once, and he clocks my chin softly with his thumb before stuffing his hands back in his pockets and jogging towards the small group of people.

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

Pull, flip, tighten. Pull, flip, tighten. Pull, flip, tigh-

I threw my hands down, the half-made basket rolling to the ground. My fingers were cramping and my stomach was growling, but it wasn't dinner time yet and I didn't have any extra food anymore-- I'd let Ezzie eat the rest, because apparently cravings can include burned lizard feet and not-yet-ripe mangoes.

I pushed myself from the ground and once on my feet, stumble to the hut that seemed a little too far away.

Popping my head through the doorway, I grinned at Ezzie and said, "I'm leaving for a bit to find a snack. I'll be back before the group does."

"What?" she frowned at me, and glanced out the window with no glass, "Alaska, I don't think that's a good idea. Especially since you're going alone. And you promised Chris you wouldn't."

I shrug slightly, "I'm a big girl. I'll literally be back in 10. Maybe even less."

Her lips parted, as if she was going to protest again, then she closed her eyes and shook her head, "You're gonna go anyways. Thanks for letting me know. And-and, Alaska? Don't die."

I nod, then spin around and take off for the clearing that we'd made once we got here.

It was worn, with shoe marks and foot prints-- recent ones, of course-- and even paw prints, no larger than a leaf.

The wind howled at me, and the sun rays gleaming through the trees above me lit up the trail. I glanced to the right, my brain telling me not to follow the path the group took.

"What if they come back around sooner than you thought they would?" a voice prodded. "Wouldn't want your little boyfriend to get mad, would you?"

Going off trail sounded dangerous, but Chris was probably scarier when upset. I turn to the right sharply, and started to jog, dodging fallen trees, shrub and carcasses.

Up ahead, the lights seemed to stream down right on a small bush that had dark purplish/red berry. I picked one, squished it till juice ran down my fingers, then decided they were good and picked a handful. A bittersweet scent filled my nostrils, and my stomach growled at me again, demanding food.

"I hear ya, damn." I grumble, as I tear a leaf from a plant and wrap the berries in it. With a stained purple hand, I turn back around and start walking until I find the trail again. Fresh paw prints led straight to the camp, and I frowned.

Putting one tired foot in front of another, I followed the three-toed prints until I came to a boulder the size of Ezzie's stomach. Peering behind it, I breathed a sigh of relief when a baby-faced animals that looked like a sloth and raccoon mixed together looked up at me with wide eyes, a flower hanging from it's lips.

It looked like a Binturong, but I wasn't entirely sure-- it still seemed to be in it's early childhood. Before I could do anything, it scurried off, it's tail tucked between it's legs until it reached a tree, to which it scaled with ease.

With a shrug, I start heading back to the village, the leaf fanny pack tied to my waistband bumping up and down as I take each step.

Once I reached the village, a quiet hum of voices seemed to come from every direction. And really, it was. The group was back. People were out and about, talking and laughing and discussing what else would be prepped for dinner and it was like this was a party. Like we weren't trapped on an island that would probably eventually lead to all of our deaths. We were celebrating our cruel futures without realizing it.

Not quite in the mood to get yelled at by Chris, I creep along the edge of the camp, just behind the line of sight (I hoped), until I was almost behind the huts. There was someone sleeping in the shade of a hut, her eyes shut tight and fingers locked on a sharpened stick in her hand. I made sure to keep my distance.

Once I found the hut that belonged to Ezzie and myself (I'd written our names on the back of it with a rock), I set the berries on the ground, dug my fingers into the soil, then scrubbed my hands with dirt until they were a muddy-red kind of color so it looked like I'd been digging all day, and nonchalantly waltzed around the hut.

"Alaska!" Ed's voice called from about a yard away, "Hey, Chris' been looking for ya."

I nod and smile, say, "Thanks," then turn and glance around for the brown-headed-boy. He wasn't that far away, bent over a pile of logs with dirty jeans and a sweat-stained shirt. Clearing my throat, I took a few more steps forward, and said, "Head you were lookin' for me, hot stuff."

He glanced behind him quickly, then continued doing what he was doing before, which I could now clearly tell was him tying a couple of sticks together with a thick green vine, "Yeah, I was. Gimme a sec."

I crossed my arms, and watched him until he turned around, "So, what's up?"

"I didn't see you anywhere when we got here." he frowned at me, and wiped his face with his shirt.

I scratch my head, slightly nervous; I was a bad liar, especially when it came to him, "I was digging up worms behind the hut," I shrug, and uncross my arms to show him my hands, "was about to wash up, actually. I feel gross."

He seemed sketchy, and I was afraid he'd call me out, but if he was going to do that he'd probably wait until nobody else was really around. With a nod, he pulls out a little baggie (which I was going to ask how he got later), and tossed it to me.

I caught it swiftly, and pulled it to my face. White-ish liquid slid around, and when I opened it, the smell of rubber hit me like a shot to the face. I closed it back, and grinned at him, "Thank you so much."

"No problem," he lifts one shoulder, then lets it fall back down, "what is that stuff, anyways?"

I glance at him, then slide the bag into my back pocket, "It's latex, basically. 30% rubber. It'll be really useful here, if we can get some more. Maybe I could go with next time, it'd be a nice change, scavenging with others-"

He raised his brows at me, and I hurried to finish with:

"-since I spent awhile by myself at the beginning of this, right?" I force another smile, and scratched at my scalp, "Anyways, we should probably get started on the fire for dinner."

He stared at me for a second longer, before leaning forward so close, his breath heated up my cheeks. I thought he was going to kiss me, and god, I wish he would already, but instead, he leaned forward more until he was right next to my ear and whispered, "You should bathe."

I cracked a smile, and shoved him away playfully, "All right, let's go, Ace."

And I swore that the look in his eyes was something I hadn't seen before. Even though I didn't know what the look was, it made me feel reassured.

"Time is too slow for those who wait,
Too swift for those who fear,
Too long for those who grieve,
Too short for those who rejoice,
But for those who love, time is
Eternity."

(h.v.d.)

Ezra | Jungle

In the weeks following the incident, I found that no longer did I so adamantly try to risk my life for others. Of course I still helped patch people up, but Eddie refused to let me traipse back into the woods for herbs.

Now, instead of having everyone fend for themselves for food, we all participate in gathering. A group goes on a bi weekly trip to the Beach, Chris would disappear into the woods for a few hours- working on the raft. We decided to keep it between us, so it was a secret.

Carlisle came and went as he pleased, bringing news from the Beach every few days, random gifts of food, materials we might make use of, and always an update for me about Saph.

I appreciated it. It brought closure for that aspect. Made me feel better. A little.
However, what I didn't have closure on was the boy. Or maybe I did. Just not what I did to him.

Flashback

And then I broke.

He was standing there, grinning at me wickedly; crazily. The knife flashed in his hand and pure rage coursed through my veins. This boy- what were his intentions?

His lewd facial expressions gave me an idea, and I didn't like it.

"Now, Ezzie," he started, purring. "Come here, baby. Not so far."

He wasn't expecting it, so I launched myself at him. I'm a strong girl, you know, so me pouncing on him startled him. He slashed. I hardly noticed it. My head smacked against a tree and a horrid banshee scream ripped from my throat.

He lost his grip on the knife and I scrambled to snatch it up, and sliced my palm in the process. But I had it, then, and that motherfucker couldn't hurt me or try to... Take advantage of me.

I was going to kill him. I swear it. I managed to stab him in the side, before something large and dark swooped over my head and before I knew it, he was being dragged away, and both of us were screaming.

I sat in the pouring rain until Eddie burst through the clearing and brought me back to shelter.

He was wondering why I was covered in blood, and I really didn't want to tell him the truth and risk a scolding about how I should be careful, blah blah, but I told him anyways and he let me put my siggy clothes on before hugging me and telling me to calm down.

He lied to Chris for me, even if it was a small white lie.

You know what happened from there.

Present

I still have this goal floating around in my mind. Find Elvis. Get off the Island. Have the kid.

With each day, I'm getting bigger. Now everyone knows of my predicament. Carlisle brings me plants to supplement prenatal vitamins, or at least as much as he can.
Alaska takes care of me, and Chris is like a protective older brother when it comes to keeping me in the village. And for some reason, a few of the other kids hanging around here call me 'Mom', which I don't mind as much as I thought it would.

I do get sick a little, though the majority of it has passed. I'm sore and growing constantly, but I manage.

Now, I know Elvis is still out there. He's alive and I can feel it, the measure of his soul against mine. It's still there and I know he hasn't left me yet. I know that he's looking for me, too, for I can feel that, too. His thoughts of me, his spirit's prying at me, 'where did you go, Ezra?'

I'm here, I'm surviving, and I think he knows that. Everyone is helping me so much so that I'm not stressing myself and risking my baby's life.

Often at night, I find myself settling down on my old cot and letting my mind drift to the old days, where I could see him whenever I want, and my soul longs to see his face, framed by his pale blonde hair and his beautiful gray eyes captivating me. Elvis is beautiful, and he is mine, and I owe him my life.

But that's enough of the sentimental stuff. I'm supposed to be a tough german girl with no feelings.

The animals on this island avoid me. They can tell I have a small one inside of me, and they know how mothers protect their young. Of all of the people on this island's hit list, my child is not there... Yet. That can change easily. Once the baby is born, that could change. But it won't. We'll be gone long before then.

Chris protects me, and Alaska cares for me, and Eddie feeds me. And I keep them from danger and mend them, and I mother them. If that is not enough to show my gratitude, then I do not know what will be.

Alaska likes to place her pink palm across my abdomen and feel the small bump. She pets it and coos to it, and sings in another language; a sweet, mellow tune that soothes my bones and makes me drift away to a different world. And when she stops, I'm brought back to the cursed island so suddenly, I'm left dizzy.
------

Carlisle doesn't have much to tell me about Saphire, just that he found a trail and attempted to track it, but failed as it suddenly dropped a cliff and he lost every trace of where his daughter went.

Perhaps she's gone, dragged off by the nature of this cruel island. But, no, she's too much of a fighter to allow herself to fade away like that. I hypothesize what happened to her; if she really ran away because of her father, or because of Chris, or if she fell victim to some unfortunate accident.

I was curious, as a mother to be, for Carlisle's sake. I wanted him- no, I needed him to find his daughter.

Saph

"Hellooooo!” I drop to my hands and knees, face pressed into the crunchy, yellow beach sand. “Crab? I said hello!”

The little grey crab shuffles further under the rock, trying to get away from me. I’m too afraid to reach in and grab it, because I still have the cut on my fingers from the last time I did that. I just lie there, face pressed into the sand, waiting. The crab blinks it’s weird, black eyes, not moving. I hiss at it and sit up to find Chris watching me, ears pricked forward. I narrow my eyes at her.

“What? You don’t eat crabs, so you can’t judge me,” I snap.

Chris snorts, her gaze shifting momentarily, before she looks at me with a smug horse expression. I turn around to find the crab I’d been chasing scuttling away, before disappearing under another rock. My glare returns to Chris, and I wipe the sand off my face before jumping to my feet and running after her. Chris wheels around and gallops off down the beach, quickly outrunning me.

I think four weeks have gone by. The first two were spent resting and trying to stop infection. Then I decided to just get up because I didn’t like lying around all day. It was boring and unproductive. So I busied myself with running around, riding Chris, chasing crabs for breakfast, and swimming in the ocean. There’s a reef not too far out full of really big fish, and they’re really tasty too. I made myself a spear with a small stone and a thin but sturdy stick, and I still haven’t quite got the hang of it. I’ve been confined to this beach for … jeez, I don’t even know. I just woke up here, and I’m going to say that I’ve been here for years.

Chris has been my only friend, and to say I’m a little out of touch with reality is an understatement. And because I don't know who I am – really, because Saphire but I prefer Saph doesn't cut it – nor do I know where I am, I've let my imagination go wild. And as it turns out, I have a pretty active one too. I've made up this totlly believable – scoff later I know it's totally bullshit – story about who I am and how I got here. Wanna hear it? Of course, only naturally.

My name is Saph. Saph Beach, because I don't like Saphire McCormine. I was born on this island about eighteen years ago. Actually, twenty. Yeah, I'll be older than I am. Well, don't actually know how old I am, and neither does Chris, so it's not like I'm lying. Anyway, I was born here twenty years ago. My mother was a ... Shopping cart pusher. It wasn't a great job, but enough to keep us going. When I was a kid I saved a boy from being bullied, and his name was Bo. We became friends, but drifted apart as we started to find new interests. One day I went out exploring and got lost. I was chased by some monkeys, but a horse named Chris saved me. We got separated a while back, but when I decided to live reclusively out here, she found me. Now me and Chris live happily together. Chris is like my nagging wife, so I have to deal with her.

And that's my story. It's probably totally wrong, but who cares? No one else has to hear it except my judgmental wife. Actually, maybe Chris and I should properly get married. That'd be funny, and make my story even better. I married a horse. Bet my Mum would be proud. And my Dad. Do I even have a Dad? Maybe my Mum wasn't actually my mother. Oh damn, I'm thinking too much. I can feel the onset of a headache.

Chris suddenly stops in front of me and I crash into her side. I fall backwards into the sand and stare up at her. Her obsidian gaze is cast upwards, toward the cliff face I've come to considers my prison wall. Her ears twitch back and forth, but everything else about her remains still.

"Kill joy," I gripe and push myself to my feet. I wall back to my mini camp setup and take my shirt and shorts off. Picking up the crude spear I worked really hard to make, I turn to the beach, only to find Chris standing right behind me. "Holy shit! What is wrong with you?!" I screech in shock.

Chris bobs her head and nudges my chest. She has a look in her eyes that I've never seen before.

"Chris, I'm going fishing, I'll be back in an hour or whatever," I give her a stern look. "Don't touch my shit, you devilish beast."

Chris lifts her head to nip my braid. I growl at her and poke her chest with the end of my spear, making her leap backwards. I point the tip at her warningly as I walk toward the beach.

"I mean it too, you shit," I growl.

Chris's ears twitch back and forth as she watches me stalk away from her. Satisfied that I've made my point, I turn around and run at the waves. I splash ungracefully through the crystal, blue water, and dive in. The coolness soothes my skin, old aches making an appearance. I surface and rub my faface before swimming over to the reef.

One thing I've had to watch out for is sharks. So far I haven't been troubled by the little reef sharks that swim around near the sand, darting away when my shadow falls over them. A pod of dolphins swam nearby once. That was a fun afternoon. Although just because I haven't encountered anything dangerous yet doesn't mean I won't. Until then, all is wonderful with the world. Except my nagging wife. I can't say that with a straight face, I swear.

Spotting a decent sized fish with a silver, streamline body, I swim over to it and try to catch it. It takes me several goes, but after an hour and probably a half, I manage to catch about three fish, one almost too small to even consider an entrée. I swim back to the beach and shake myself dry, slinging the fish over my shoulder. I whistle merrily as I waltz back to my camp, expecting Chris to be waiting for me.

She's gone. I try not to think twice about it. Instead, I set up a fire to cook my fish. Once they're cooked, I pull the skin off them and pick at the white flesh. Once I've picked off all I can eat, I gather up my scraps and take them around to the rocks where I leave them for the crabs and other fish. It's the only other hobby I have, and it's better than gardening.

"Hello Ruffles," I grin wide at the fat cloun fish swimming in his anemone. "Oh look, it's Splotch Face," I spot the giant blue swimmer crab I don't have the heart to eat because I named it. "And Nancy!"

I harvested the coral and seaweed growing in my rockpool, and I noticed eventually creatures moved in. Like Ruffles. The anemone was already there, I think the smell of food attracted him. Splotch Face wandered over after I relocated his water logged ... log, and Nancy just appeared one day. Nancy is a brightly coloured sea dragon that nibbles on the itty bitty things that float around in the rockpools. In all honesty, I'd have to say I'm completely nuts if I'm talking to marine creatures.

After feeding my let's and updating my water garden, I return to my camp, now dry, to dress. And there is still no sign of Chris. Shrugging, I lie down under the shade of my bark shelter, take a gulp of fresh water from my shell cup – there is a pool of fresh water near the base of the cliff – and lie back against a tree to sleep the middle of the day away.

I'm woken by a scuffling in the sand and a snort. My eyes slowly open, and I find Chris nose to nose with me. Instantly my eyes narrow and my brow furrows in a questioning manner. Without warning, Chris sneezes all over my face. I wipe at my eyes and glare at her with all my might.

"I want a divorce," I snarl in a low voice.

Chris lifts her head and walks away. Getting up, I stretch and walk off into the bush to have a bath. And I've decided I'm not going to interact with Chris for the rest of the day. Rude bitch. Who sneezes on someone's face? My relationship with Chris is really starting to mess with my head.

I need to get off this beach, pronto.

The sun shone over the ridge, hazing lazily through the fog. My whole body felt damp with condensation, grass sticking to my legs as I stumbled to my feet. Ro laid about two feet away from me. I watched his furrowed brow and his eyes as they shifted under his closed lids. He'd started to grind his teeth in his sleep, which bothered me, but I said nothing, of course. He was young, and disturbed, and had been the emotional equivalent to a zombie since he'd seen his brother dead.

After we'd seen Santos in the jungle, Ro stopped talking. He hadn't said a word since we'd reentered the clearing where I'd told Elvis and Jackie what happened. It drove me crazy, and at first, all I wanted was to get a word out of him. But I let him go eventually. I knew he'd speak when he thought it was the right time to do so. There were times I touched him on the shoulder, and he flinched away. He never looked me in the eye, and instead was paralyzed in a downcast glance.

It hurt to see him that way.

"Chels," Jackie was whispering. "Chels, do you want me to get breakfast?"

"What's for breakfast?" Chelsea asked. "Some variation of wild animal and rotten fruit?"

"You bet," Jackie said.

"Yippee," Chelsea intoned groggily, rolling over and closing her eyes. Jackie stood to her feet and took a detour to where I was standing.

"I'm gonna go get breakfast," she told me. "Okay?"

"Sure," I said. It seemed like Jackie had lost her antagonistic feelings towards me after the night Chelsea'd reappeared. She seemed to respect me--like me, even. Chelsea seemed to be recovering quickly; her wounds had all but healed and she was less sick every day. Her face had regained its color, and it seemed like everyday, I figured something out about her personality that hadn't been there before. She wasn't afraid to make a cynical joke, regardless of the subject.

There were other times when all she did was smile and giggle when Jackie tickled her or held her hand. It was obvious that they were in love. Chelsea was always happier around Jackie, and Jackie took every opportunity possible to kiss Chelsea's cheek or brush her hair out of her face.

One day several weeks ago, we'd started up a conversation during 'lunch' (if you could call it that) about where we'd been before the plane crash. "It's weird," Chelsea had said, taking a bite of a mango. "I think I remember you from school," she continued, looking at me.

"Probably," I said. "Lou Emerson, first--"

"First baseman," Chelsea said with revelation, eyes widening, "right." I was surprised. Then she looked at Jackie. "Remember that baseball game we went to, where you spilled ketchup on my shorts, and then you almost got hit by a foul ball?"

"I don't think I remember," Jackie said, but I could tell that she did by the way she bit her nail.

"You have to remember," Chelsea pouted. "You almost got hit by that foul ball, because the first baseman missed the catch. Isn't that you, hotshot?" She looked at me, as if she was solving an investigation. I suddenly remembered the time she was talking about. It hadn't been a foul ball; it'd been a throw Adrian Simmons had lobbed me from the outfield. I hadn't been paying attention; Chris was making a derogatory joke through our signal system from shortstop and I was laughing at him. Suddenly, the ball whipped over my head, clearing the fence and missing a girl's head by a fraction of an inch.

It made my stomach turn to think about it now. Those times had been so perfectly normal, and I wanted them back so badly.

Chelsea was still talking. She kind of laughed, sinking her teeth into her mango again. Juice dripped down her chin and she wiped it away. Looking at me, she said, "And you always hung around with that guy. Chris Mahoney."

Jackie's eyes kind of widened, as if she knew that the topic was off-limits. My heart completely liquefied.

But Chelsea had no idea. "Total douchebag," she said. She cleared her throat. "I mean, no offense."

"He wasn't a douchebag," I cut in, suddenly defensive. Wasn't. The muscles in my arms were tense. "He was a good guy, y'know. Just a little bit of an asshole sometimes when you don't know him." Then I shook my head, my eyes burning. I stood up. Chelsea looked taken aback, and Jackie was staring at the sand beneath her feet. "But he's dead now," I said, my voice shaking. "He's dead now so it don't matter."

The conversation had ended after that.

We'd been between the jungle and the beach constantly, spending a little time here and there to go on--what at this point, we expected were futile--search missions for Chris and Ezra. Ro always tagged along with Elvis and I, following behind like a lost dog. I wasn't sure why Jackie and Chelsea always decided to come along; maybe it was because they felt safer with us. They were always talking about Alaska, for some reason. I heard them mumbling about it to each other. I didn't hear what they were saying, but their voices were always urgent. I didn't understand what was so important about a state that was thousands of miles away. But I couldn't bring myself to ask.

I knew Chris was dead. I knew it somehow. I couldn't make myself believe that he was still alive; he'd been gone too long for that. Thirty days was awhile, more than awhile, and if he wasn't dead on the first day, he would be now.

I knew it, but I couldn't accept it, so I followed Elvis around the jungle like a dog.

Elvis stumbled over to me and sat by my side. The knees of his pants were dirty, and his shirt was torn. Stubbled coated his face. "Hey," he said to me, whispering for Ro's sake. "We heading back to the beach today?" Elvis didn't like going back to the beach; he liked searching constantly for his girlfriend. But he was smart enough to know that we'd miss things if we stayed out looking too long.

Plus, the rest of us always yearned to check on the raft and how the construction was going. There was nothing more we wanted than a reassurance that we could leave the island whenever we pleased.

"Aright, aright," I responded, nodding. I blinked, shaving a trampled stick with the blade of the axe. I carried the axe around a lot nowadays. I always felt like I might need it, for protection, for everyday use. Anything.

"How's he doing?" Elvis asked, directing his glance towards Ro. His gray eyes softened.

"Same old," I said. "He's not doin' nothin'."

"Poor kid," Elvis intoned. We had this conversation every morning, just about.

"He don't even talk," I said. I rubbed my hand over my hair. It'd grown long. "He still don't even talk. I don't know what to do with him."

Just then, Ro stirred, legs kicking into the air. His face contorted, and then he woke, his eyes fluttering open. I knew better than to touch him, so I just watched as he stretched like a cat and then crawled over to the smoking fire. He grabbed a stick and poked it, moving embers this way and that, as if it were sand art.

"Get away from there, Ro," I chided. He was too close to the fire. Chelsea was sitting up in the sleeping bag she'd found and brought along. Ro didn't listen, continuing to mess around near the fire. "Ro," I repeated, louder, rolling my eyes. He didn't even look at me. "Ro, get the hell away from there. Y'hear? Get the hell away." Ro hesitated, still straight-faced. For a moment I thought maybe he'd stop poking around. Then he reached the stick further into the fire, moving closer.

Rage boiled inside my chest. Elvis and Chelsea stared at me, and then at Ro, wondering if I would let him go. Instead I stood up, marching towards Ro. I picked him up under the arms, dragging him away from the fire. Ro struggling, throwing elbows back at my lower stomach and thighs. He clawed at my arms, and I almost dropped him, but I swung him away from the fire. Then I dropped him on the ground, Ro collapsing in the grass with a small thump. I caught Elvis's and Jackie's wide-eyed stares, before they both looked at the ground and away from us.

I was breathing hard, looking down at Ro. With a pang of guilt, I wondered if he was hurt. Without looking at me, Ro scrambled slowly to his feet and sat down by a tree at the edge of the clearing, knees bent.

Just then, there was a rustling in the trees where Jackie had disappeared. But instead of Jackie, a sleek black horse emerged, its mane folded over its neck, its black eyes sharpening. It stopped at the edge of the clearing. I glanced around at Elvis and Chelsea to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. But they were staring, too.

"Is that a horse?" Chelsea whispered. Elvis stood and approached the horse slowly. But before he could lay a hand upon it, it galloped back into the forest.

"The fuck was that?" I asked.

"I dunno," Elvis said, still standing where the horse had been standing only a moment ago.

Just then, Jackie waltzed back into the clearing with an armful of mangoes and dandelion leaves. "Breakfast?" she asked.

I woke with a start and yelped at the strange creature before me, scrambling backwards and slipping on the unfamiliar surface. sand? It was just a horse, and I sighed in relief. Wait a second, a horse?! I stood up quickly, too quickly and almost fell, catching myself on a tree, the abrasive bark scratching at my arm and shoulder. Looking around, dense tropical foliage greeted me from every direction, and the sound, or lack thereof finally registered. It's so quiet... Where am I? With the dizziness wearing off, I stood up and away from the tree only to bump my head on a low branch and promptly reintroduce my knees to the sand. "Son of a-" "Ro, get the hell away from there, y'hear? I snapped my head in the direction of the voice, but it faded from my ears, leaving me alone again with the creaking an slight rustling of the leaves and trees around.

"Hello?" My hand went to my throat instinctively. What the hell...? I was utterly parched, my voice cracked and hoarse. I need water... I stood up again, past the branch and started to walk when the breeze registered on my bare skin. Where's my shirt? I looked back to where I had woken only to see the imprint on the sandy ground where I had laid. My back hurts like a bi-... I looked up into the tree I had head my head on and saw tattered strips of cloth hanging from its branches. Great. What the hell happened?

I climbed the tree slowly and carefully in a futile attempt to go easy on my sore and aching body but stopped and nearly fell from the tree as a sharp pain went through the foot I had just placed in a crook of a higher branch. "Ow!" I reached up slowly to the crook, probably a bug or some rough bark. Instead, my hand met cold metal, and I pulled lightly, a knife emerging from the crook of the tree. "This is mine...." Suddenly, I felt like I was going to collapse as what happened came back to me, and I fell with my back against the tree in shock. The plane... Those voices... There must be other survivors of the crash. "How long have we bee-..... I looked back to the spot where I had been lying. "How long have I been lying there...?"

I rolled the blade around in my hand, remembering the friendly man in Zimbabwe you had purchased it from. It was meant to be a souvenir at the time but I guess it'll come in handy... I absentmindedly rubbed past the tribal carvings on the hilt and stretched before heading after the voices, only noticing after several steps that I was following the horse's tracks. Where do horses still live wild? I thought back to my studies at home as I walked and tried to figure where we had landed. Of course, until I know if this is an island or a continent, there's a lot of possibilities.

I was pulled from my thoughts as the horse came crashing through the foliage at a gallop, and I threw my arms up to protect myself, but the beast simply continued on its way through the jungle, and it was gone from my sight in moments. "The fuck was that?" My ears pricked at the voice only a distance away and I hesitated for a moment before breaking into a jog. I stopped when the trees finally gave way to a clearing, and I peered out of the trees at a glowing fire and a number of people sitting around it.

"Breakfast?" I whipped my head to the side as a girl came walking from the jungle only a few feet from where I was hiding. Jackie? I recognized the girl's voice as she spoke. At least I know some people... That was a big plane, and I wasn't well acquainted with, well... any of them really, but at least I knew of one person. I took a deep breath and pushed slowly out of the bushes.

"H-Hello?" I tried to clear my throat and spoke again, trying to inject some amount of confidence into my voice. "Hello..." I put my hand up sheepishly and stopped a few feet from the edge of the trees and looked across the startled people's faces.

Laska and I strolled to the river together; it was only about a hundred yards from the village. I put my hands in my pockets, thumbs sticking out. When I could hear the water rushing ten-some yards away, I broke away from Laska and jog-stumbled down the rocks. Then I clumsily spun a 180 and reached back for her hand, barely grasping her fingertips. Pulling her hand down, I stepped closer to her and tilted my head, kissing her sweetly.

She was surprised, and her hand went up to my face, fingers lacing through my hair. I stepped back, and my eyes glanced over hers. Then, with a running start, I leapt into the shallow part of the river near the bank, water splashing around my ankles.

"And he scores!" I shouted, kicking up water.

"Let's review that play again," I heard from further up the bank, "It may just be the best in football history." I looked up as Laska walked towards me, grinning, and I smiled like hell.

"The best in football history?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow. She ran into the water, kissing my cheek quickly.

"The hottest in football history, that's for sure," she replied. Sprinkles of water dotted her arms and her shirt. I couldn't stop looking at her.

"Damn straight," I said, whipping off my shirt. She laughed--I liked when girls laughed--and walked to the riverside several feet away. I found myself looking after her, before I tore my eyes away and started to wash up.

I rubbed water over my chest and stomach. The water felt cool and refreshing. I splashed some of it into my face, scratching the sweat out of my hair. Laska sat down on a flat rock at the edge of the river. She bent over to rub her hands over her legs, and then laid back to wet her hair.

I blinked the water off my eyelashes. Laska sat up and glanced over at me. I caught her eye. I ducked my head and started unbuttoning my jeans, shooting her a flirtatious smile. I let my hands linger near my zipper, and she stood up, loping over my way. When she got to me, she put her soft hands on mine, lips reaching up to kiss my neck. Her fingers slid down towards my waistband.

I leaned forward, my hands taking her wrists, and kissed her earlobe.

"What were you doing earlier?" I breathed, almost involuntarily. It'd been eating away at me, but I hadn't expected to say anything about it. Not yet.

"What?" she asked, surprised. She hesitated. She wouldn't meet my eye. "Making baskets like I said," she mumbled, eyes still closed. She leaned forward to nestle her nose in my neck, and there was a moment when I almost decided not to finish the conversation.

But by now, I knew my impulses were too rash to pay any mind to.

"I saw you sneaking around," I said, pulling back slightly, because I had; I'd been watching her as she crept around the edge of the village. Laska shook her head, still close to me, like she was about to come up with an excuse. I cut in before she could say a thing. "Ezzie told me you left camp," I continued, which was a lie. Ezzie hadn't told me anything. But if Laska really had wandered off like I suspected, then she would've told Ezzie. Even I knew that.

And by the way Laska let her guilt show up on her face, I knew I guessed correctly.

Feeling frustration and disappointment rise up inside me, I pushed her hands away and turned my back to her. I zipped my jeans and walked up onto the rocks, grabbing my shirt and tugging it over my head.

"Chris," she said from behind me, almost pleadingly. "I was just getting food. I was hungry."

Like that justifies anything. Fuming, I said, "You lied to me."

"Okay," she said, and when I faced her, she was rolling her eyes. I pressed my lips together, anger surging through my blood. "I'm sorry," she said. She didn't mean it.

"What, do you think it's funny?" I asked her, clenching my fists. "D'you think it's a joke?" I squared my shoulders, facing her head-on.

"No," she said, cowering slightly, as if she wasn't sure how mad I was.

"What, then?" I asked, raising my voice.

"Look," she said, glancing up at me in the moment of strength, and then redirecting her eyes to the soil. She folded her arms. "I don't have to tell you where I am 24-7," she argued. "And I don't need your permission. You're not my dad, okay?"

A bolt of rage shot up through my chest. "What's the difference?" I asked. I placed my hands on my hips. "I care about you, is that not enough for you?"

At this she ducked her head, looking at the ground. She kicked at a rock, unresponsive.

"Look at me," I told her, feeling my face heat up. She rose her eyes timidly. I shook my head, and lowered my voice. "I've been witness to a lot of deaths around here," I said, trying to stop my voice from shaking, "And I can't have another, alright?" I stepped towards her, looking her dead in the eyes. "But I'll have twenty more peoples' blood on my conscience if that means it isn't you."

Her eyes glistened, and she bit down on her lower lip.

"So answer me," I demanded. "Is that not enough for you?"

She suddenly looked like she was about to cry. I reached down and picked up a stone, before whipping it into the water. It skipped six times. Laska flinched as it whizzed past her.

"Jesus Christ, Alaska," I muttered. Feeling sick, half for being lied to, and half for intimidating her, I turned around and started back towards the village. Soon, all I could hear were my own footsteps trudging through the forest. I couldn't believe she would lie to me like that. But deep down, I knew I would've done the same thing. It hurt twice as bad to realize that I couldn't justify my own disappointment.

The sun had begun to set over the horizon, and it wasn't long until I could see the firelight coming from camp. I stopped walking, still standing just inside the tree line. My thoughts weighed on me. I have to go back. I couldn't stomach leaving Laska out there all alone. I pictured her sitting all alone and crying, or worse, running off out of stubbornness and anger. It was unlike me, to turn back and retrace my steps; I usually just chose a direction and stuck with it. But to hell with old habits. I couldn't leave her out there alone.

It was stupid, but I missed her already.

I started walking back the way in which I came, and then broke into a jog. It was dark, and I had to squint to see the silhouettes of the tall birches and palm trees. I wanted to see her again; I needed proof that she hadn't run off. That she was safe.

I ran a little faster, until I arrived at the clearing. I guess I was too excited, because I felt myself step wrong. Suddenly, the world turned upside down, and my mouth fell agape in surprise as I tripped onto my stomach. A sharp pain ripped through my abs, right where I'd had the gash from the plane crash, and I cried out softly in pain. Unimaginable pain shot through my body, slicing through me like a knife. I rolled over onto my back, unable to do much more. My hands went to my stomach, felt the stick that had punctured my side. The blood was sticky and viscous on my hands.

My eyes started to flutter closed, my consciousness threatening to blink out like a light. And then there was a stomping through the underbrush, before someone burst into the clearing. It was Laska. She bent down, and said something, but I couldn't hear anything but the overwhelming sound of my own heartbeat and labored breathing. I felt like I was underwater.

"I'm fine," I tried to say, "I'm fine." Laska was brushing my hair out of my face, and I reached up weakly and grabbed her arm tightly. "No stitches," I mumbled, since it was all I ever thought about, "No stitches." And then I felt the world slow down, darkening until it was no more.

Jackie; the lover, the lost, and the last

"I'm gonna make you crazy," her lips moved to the sound of the words spilling from the speaker beside us, "I'll give you the time of your life."

The wind pushed against us, prodding our bodies to move with it and I smiled at the girl next to me; after everything I'd been though, after everything I'd seen, after everything she knew about, she stayed. She was here, alive, smiling and singing to a Janet Jackson song she'd listened to on repeat since the day we met in that classroom.

I felt like it was impossible to let this go.

His eyes were rimmed red, purple bags rested under his lashes, his entire body covered in dirt and scratches that seemed to have healed but still had the dried blood on them. His clothes were nearly gone, feet bare, and his hair to his ears; the stubble that was on his jaw the last time I'd saw him was half an inch long now.

Matthias Walker.

My lips parted, eyebrows furrowed, and I was genuinely confused; I thought he was dead.

"Um," Elvis cleared his throat, and stood up, his arms pulled forward as if he were trying to be intimidating; it was actually kind of working, I thought, "Who are you? Where'd you come from?"

Chelsea lifted her head from the clothing-pillow I'd made for her, her eyes trailing to mine, and then Matt's, "Hey, it's-"

"Where'd you come from?" I cut her off, without trying to be rude, and turn to him; the mangoes and leaves were going to slip out of my grip any moment, "Were you with other people?"

He shakes his head furiously, his cheeks pink under the layer of dust that had somehow gathered on him.

"You're capable of speaking," I grumble, and rub my cheek against my shoulder, "okay, you weren't with people. Where were you? How the fuck are you still alive?"

His shoulders shook, and I thought he was going to cry for a moment, but before a tear could fall he did; his legs crumbled beneath him, and then he was laying limp on the forest floor. What was left of his shirt had scrunched up just enough to display his stomach, and the view wasn't a good one; his ribs were out far enough to count them. This wasn't the Matthias I knew a couple of months ago. Weeks. I didn't even know how long we'd been here.

"Well, that's just great." Chelsea mumbled, then rolled her face back into the small pillow.

"Matthias Walker," I say, and let the contents in my arms tumble to the soft floor beneath me, "We were friends, but...like, I thought he was dead. I didn't even think twice about him surviving."

Low frowned at me, his dark skin sparkling from sweat; it was kind of hot out here, "Why would you think that?"

I shrug, "He's one of the ones that fell from the plane. When we were still in the air."

Screaming filled my ears, from students to teachers and even flight attendants. Chelsea was clinging onto me with everything she could, her eyes squeezed tight and lips moving to the sound of everyone else; I was terrified.

Bodies flew around everywhere, the wind yanking them every which way it pleased. I recognized a lot of the people who were slammed into the sides of the plane; all of the people weren't fighting against their deaths anymore; all of the people that were already gone.

"J-J-Ja-" were the only actual words that reached my ears before the face of Matthias Walker was thrown roughly near one of the exits. My eyes were too wide and I was too surprised to move or do anything, really. And the next thing I knew, he wasn't beside the exit; he was out of it.

*******

Comatose Matthias had been removed to a comfy little spot under a tree, wet leaves plastered to his forehead and what was left of my crop top pulled around him.

The black sportsbra I had left was in surprisingly good condition, and it was a lot cooler without the other top on.

Low cleared his throat suddenly, his hands moving in a rhythmic pattern as he sharpened the stick in his hand, "Sun's goin' down. We can't never leave here."

I ran my fingers through Chelsea's hair as her even breathing escaped into the open air; she was fast asleep. I sigh, "We're not making progress out there, though. We can't find anybody. I don't know what we're supposed to do, Low. Especially now that that idiot found his way to us. Okay?"

He didn't respond, just dropped something onto the ground and crawled into his little sleeping space.

"They're out there," Elvis grumbled tiredly, his voice quiet and rusty, "just like Matthias was. We'll find them. Ezra, Alaska, Chris, Eddie, hell, maybe even that Saphire girl. The Australian girl. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Mark was still alive, the stubborn bastard."

I didn't know who Saphire or Mark was, but the first four were my hopes; the main ones I hoped had survived.

Ezra, the German princess that was literally a mother hen. I'd barely known her before, I'd seen her and Elvis together sometimes, but he had told me so many stories about her that I felt like I knew her personally; that we were best friends.

Alaska, the hot dark skinned girl with the mesmerizing hair and nice rack; she was also extremely nice and I do not have a crush on her. Anymore. She's just like a celebrity that I look up to. And Chelsea knew her good, they used to be friends back before all of this shit happened.

Chris-- oh, man. Baseball player. Jock. Jerk. The guy whose best friend was worried sick about. I didn't know him, and I'm really glad about that. Low tells of great stories about Chris, but nothing he says makes me like him more. He just sounds like a Grade-A asshat.

Eddie. God, the poor kid. Couldn't flirt with a girl if he tried, and he was the sweetest person ever. I know I hate people, mainly guys, but he was one of the first exceptions I'd made. He never spoke a foul word, was always helping, and tried to stay out of peoples way. I felt really bad for him. I really hoped that he'd made it.

My eyelids slowly closed on their own as I rattled more names off in my head, all the names of the people I'd met or known that was on that plane; all of the names that, a lot of them, belonged to nobody now.

Every single name that I couldn't even put a face to because it'd been so long since I'd seen them.

I didn't like the feeling it gave me.

"Baby?" Chelsea's hand prodded at my cheek, and I flicked my eyes open to her wide ocean orbs, "You okay? Do you feel sick?"

I smile, and shake my head, "No, I'm okay-" except I'm not and I just want to be alone with you so I can tell you everything that's wrong.

Her lips flattened, and I knew she didn't believe me, but I couldn't let myself break in front of anyone else. I did that once, in front of Elvis, and that was drastic to my confidence.

Nobody said anything after that; our whispers echoed off of the silent trees that hovered over us. Everytime someone moved, the others would look at the person, as if they'd interrupted something important; as if they'd interrupted the famous isolation of our words.

I felt like I was growing sick of being quiet. Elvis had been staring up at the trees for the past half-hour, Ro and Low were still ten feet apart as if they'd had some kind of child fight about who was going to be the Robber and who was going to be the Cop (like in the game), Matthias had woken up but hadn't said anything to anyone and Chelsea was dozing with her head in my lap.

She looked so different. She was so different. The bags under her eyes scared me, and her pretty pale skin that used to be spotless was marked with nasty bug bites and scars that threatened to haunt her for the rest of her days.

It scared me. This scared me.

I just wanted to go back three months, before the trip, before she told her parents, before everything was still alive and things were perfect and why did this TV show drama have to happen to us.

My body felt heavy as my eyes stung with something; tears. I didn't understand why, after all I'd been through, this had to happen to me. Wasn't I allowed to be happy?

Tears slid down my cheeks, making my face cleaner than it'd been in days, and dripped off of my chin onto the face of the girl below me. Her eyes opened instantly, her eyes wide with concern and lips parting to automatically say, "What's going on?" and before she could the sound of feet tromping through leaves suddenly came towards us and a body broke through the clearing.

The person looked tired, as their shoulders moved up and down to catch their breath and hands reaching up to push at their hair.

It was light enough to see that the person was dripping in something. Water, I assumed. They started to make their way closer, and when they did, the liquid that looked like water before became darker and I had to blink again to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

It was a guy; his hands dropped back down to his sides, and something shined in his right hand. I pushed Chelsea from my lap gently, and stood up cautiously.

"Who're you?" I ask, my voice shaking and tears still falling from my eyes; I'm a coward, "Where'd you come from?"

"I like to believe-" he pauses, and something that sounded like a growl and a laugh came from him, "-that I came from hell."

Chelsea tugged at my ankle, and I could hear her say something like, "-roonalicks got a wife."

I frowned, and shot her a look, "What?"

"Jackie!" she said almost breathlessly, "the lunatics got a knife."

Elvis was stand now, a little ahead of Low, Ro was cowering at the feet of Low and Matt was trying to stand up with the support of a tree next to him.

"Get out of here," Elvis slurred; he was tired. I didn't remember the last time he got more than two hours of sleep. "we don't want trouble."

"Oh, there's no trouble," the guy laughed now, but there was no humor in it. His hand moved downwards, and he continued with, "I just came to make friends."

"Dude," Chelsea scoffed, "go touch yourself somewhere else."

And I didn't know how it happened but he moved so fast, and he was standing by me now, the blade in his hand glinting in the light, and he shoved me really fucking hard; I found myself laying a couple feet away.

Elvis was running towards me, Chelsea was right below the lunatic, Low was chasing after Ro, who'd taken off in the other direction of everyone, and Matt was coughing up his lungs beside the tree that was trying to help and-

Chelsea was right below the lunatic.

I pulled myself up, bones aching, and lunged at the guy; right before I tackled him, his hand pushed forward quickly, towards Chelsea, and the knife that was in his hand before was gone. I didn't think, I just landed on top of him and started pounding; that knife must've hit Chelsea, because Elvis was shouting and someone was crying, I thought, and if he hurt the love of my life I will murder him.

My anger boiled from everything that had happened, and I released it onto his face.

My fists bloodied his features and he was laughing as I beat him, and I continued to do it until my arms hurt and Elvis was pulling me away from him and I sat for a few minutes before crawling over to where my beautiful girlfriend was.

She was rolled over on her side, and that confused me a bit, but I put that aside; reaching her finally, I slid my hand through her hair and rolled her over.

Her cheeks were bloody. Her lips were parted in what looked like a scream. Her eyes were wide open. The blade that the boy had was lodged in her throat.

Her-

It was in her throat and-

And-

-she wasn't breathing.

She wasn't breathing and I didn't understand how this happened and I thought it was a joke for some reason and then, oh my god. Oh my god. Blood was spilling from the wound in her neck, and I was too surprised to say anything or do anything.

She's gone. She's gone. The girl that I'd spent so long trying to find was gone. How could I let this happen? She's gone.

Arms were grabbing at me, and then Elvis was holding me against his chest whispering something, and how did this happen?

Her hips swayed in a inappropriate manner, and I found my eyes glued to her as her long brown hair moved along with her.

The way she moved was mesmerizing, and I felt speechless as she sauntered on ahead of me.

She stopped suddenly, turned, and looked right at me. With shining eyes and a smile on her painted lips, the very first words she spoke to me were, "How long you plan on following me?"

This was it. I couldn't do it. She was gone. There was nothing left. She was gone. She was everything and ten minutes ago she was sleeping in my lap and now she's gone.

I pulled myself out of Elvis' grip in a haze, my eyes threatening to release more tears, and I stumbled back to her body. The blade sat there like a decorating piece, and I reached forward, fingers grasping the cool steel that was slick with blood.

Yanking it from her body, I felt my eyes welling up again as I lifted the blade to stare at it.

I couldn't even speak. I couldn't think of anything to say. She was gone.

"-ackie," the voice was distant, and it seemed to be coming from all around me. "Jackie, you there?"

I didn't remember moving anywhere, but I found myself staring down at the mutilated body that was my girlfriends murderer. And I didn't think at all as I fell to my knees and started hacking at the boy with the knife.

Blood was covering me within minutes and I didn't care because she was gone. He killed her. She was gone.

After minutes, he didn't even look human. I felt sick. My nose filled with the smell of copper and I was going to be sick.

I couldn't do this.

I couldn't live like this.

I couldn't stay on this island.

I couldn't be here without Chelsea.

I couldn't.

My hand lowered, and I didn't even think as I closed my eyes and got the knife halfway through my chest before my body went limp and I couldn't breathe and someone was screaming and I was gone.

Except I wasn't.

Elvis was carrying me somewhere, and the wind was whizzing past us, and god my stomach felt like it was tearing itself apart.

"You're gonna be okay, Jackie," Elvis whispered to me, his heart beating fast against my ear, "it's okay. You're gonna be okay."

Matthias

As soon as I entered the clearing, I regretted my decision as one of the people stood up and squared his shoulders intimidatingly. For christ's sake, are there really bullies here even?

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" The boy spoke and before I was able to answer, Jackie did too. "Where'd you come from? Where you with other people?"

Why're they so hostile? What happened....? They look like they've been here for weeks....... oh no..... I simply shook my head desperately and tried to speak, but my throat became very suddenly dry. I hear her murmur "You're capable of speaking."

What the hell is wrong with everyone? I wonder before opening my mouth to speak, but then the world whirls around me and I shudder, holding back vomit before my legs seem to turn to jelly and I fall. Everything went black.

I could hear them as they spoke, but couldn't move or respond. I'm in worse shape than I thought... I could make out Jackie's voice, but it was getting fainter. "Matthias Walker." So she remembers me. Progress. I inwardly smile at the irony. No one seemed to know my name at school but here I've already got a better track record in this short time. "We were friends, but... like, I thought he was dead. I didn't even think twice about him surviving." Mixed feelings on that one. "Why would you think that?" That's the boy's voice. What was his name? Ellis? Elvis?

"He's one of the ones that fell from the plane. When we were still in the air."

I could feel my heart pick up pace at those words and I was transported suddenly back to the plane. My head hurt and it all came back. The screams. The deafening air and then the biting cold of the whipping wind. We were going fast when we crashed. I stop thinking. How the fuck am I alive? I couldn't have landed in that tree.... could I have?

I let go and drifted into unconsciousness as I felt myself being lifted/ dragged and placed against the trunk of a tree and the comparatively soft and loamy ground. I dreamed of the crash over and over, the fall that now was painfully clear in my memory seeming to last forever until I finally started to turn with the wind, waking violently again as my body met the trees below. I sat up, wide eyed and sweating at the surprised faces around me.

"Ahhm.... Sorry..... bad dream I guess." The words spilled from my mouth in an unfamiliar voice. Water would be nice about now... The next few minutes were filled with questions from the others and myself, the realization that we'd been on this island (So it was an island...) for weeks; no one seemed to know how long exactly after all this time. How am I alive? The crash was bad enough, but weeks? I couldn't have just been lying there for all this time....

After that brief time of reacquaintance, time seemed to lose meaning for me as it had the others. Night and day was all there was between light meals and naps; I was still recovering from whatever the hell had happened to me, but the others were merciful and kind enough to me. I assured them I would repay them when I was able. Some time passed uneventfully in this way, and I didn't speak much, nor did the others, at least to me, but that was fine as I didn't have much to say anyway. At least until we were all shaken from our thoughts and conversations by rustling in the trees...

A man came stumbling out of the jungle, walking like a zombie before stopping and offering a short grunt, or maybe it was a laugh at our no doubt surprised and confused faces. He's got a knife... I tried to stand and slowly pushed myself up against the tree, my hand on my own knife in the tatters of my pant's pocket.

"Who're you? Where did you come from?" Jackie said. He's bleeding

The stranger spoke. "I like to believe-" His voice wavered and a disturbing noise escaped his lips, somewhere between a wild animal's warning and a laugh. "-that I came from hell."

He's crazy. And he has a knife. Shit. I heard the girl named Chelsea whisper something to Jackie, and she turned to her friend to try and hear what she had said as Elvis took a few steps closer. "Get out of here. We don't want trouble."

"Oh, there's no trouble." Oh contraire.... I scowled as the madman let his hand drift down and somehow upped the creep-factor radiating off him. "I just came to make friends."

Chelsea made a face. "Dude, go touch yourself somewhere else." Please do. No one wants to see tha- The man moved in between the blink of my eyes and was standind next to Jackie. "Get aw-" I stood up further on the tree and tried to speak, but my voice broke and I fell into a fit of violent coughing. The next thing I knew, Jackie was on the ground and the lunatic was standing over Chelsea with an insane look on his face. I blinked again I need to just stop blinking and Jackie was on top of the man, hitting him over and over and over until Elvis pulled her off of him. Oh shit.... Chelsea... The man's knife was gone and he rolled around on the ground in agony, but still somehow laughing quietly.

My heart dropped as Jackie turned her friend over and the knife was made visible, now stuck in the girl's neck. The blood seeped around her and I held back another gag. Goddamnit...

We were all quiet for a while and Elvis moved to comfort Jackie, but she whirled on him suddenly and grabbed the glistening knife. She moved to the beaten man's crumpled body and began slashing at him wildly, his deranged laughs stopped very quickly, but she continued. I tried to look away but the noises still reached my ears, sickening and wet before she finally stopped and stared down at the mass of gore that used to be human.

Elvis tentatively spoke up. "Jackie..... Jackie, you there?" She lowered the blade and Elvis rushed forwards.... too late. She fell to the side, clutching the knife that was now embedded in her chest and going limp as Elvis reached her. Hey eyes closed as her head hit the ground, only to be scooped up by the boy as he reached her. Elvis scooped her up and started off into the jungle. I'm sorry. I wanted to help, and I slammed my fist into the tree trunk in anger at my broken self. I'm no good to anyone like this. I looked around at the shocked faces of us that remained. Hours passed and Elvis had not come back. Finally, my eyelids grew heavy and I allowed them to close, drifting into a dreamless and exhausted sleep.

When I woke, Louis was gone, and Robin was sleeping. I pulled my tattered shirt around me against the cool morning air before taking a deep breath and standing up unsteadily. I'm not going to be an inconvenience. Already in the few days I had been laid up, my strength was returning and I felt more able to stand, so I took care not to wake Ro up as I made my way back to the jungle's edge and slipped into the bushes, headed back to where I had woken up originally. I need to know what happened to me, and regain my strength. There had been bananas growing near the tree I had apparently fallen into. I'll find the others again once I'm not useless. No reason to take up space until then.

I'd be seeing them again soon.