Young Writers Society

"Hey, Chris!" I heard from behind me. I turned around just as I felt arms wrap around my waist. Startled, I jumped, before I saw her hugging me. Robin, or Scout, whichever. Her head pressed into my chest, and her front pressed up against mine. My whole body felt hot, half from her, and half from where her arm was pushed up against the gash on my side. I tried not to wince.

"'Sup?" I said casually, before she slid her hand up to my neck, and kissed me on the cheek. Her lips were slightly chapped, but felt nice anyhow. I smirked as she loped away with her long legs, and stood on my tiptoes to watch her all the way back to the ocean. My eyes only broke away when somebody sitting in the sand caught my eye.

It was a girl. Seemed like a lot of people here were girls. She was trailing her finger in the sand, somewhat gracefully, her mousy hair concealing her face. She was sitting with her legs crossed, her head bent. I don't know why I walked over to her, but I did. As I got closer, I could see the blistering sunburn that had formed along her shoulders and arms. Some part of me wanted to peel it off, like in that Mitch Albom book I had to read for tenth grade English. I wanted to get a rock or whatever, and just start scraping it away. What my problem was, I wasn't sure.

I asked her if she was all right, and sat down beside her. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied. "Except you put your ass right where my drawings are." I blinked, confused. She turned to face me, frowning.

She could have been beautiful, if it weren't for the mask the island had given her. Dirt was covering the space beneath her eyes, which were a robin's egg blue. There was a crazed tint to them, and her hair fell long and stringlike to the middle of her back. Her nose was small and thin, perfect, as if it was carved out of porcelain. Her shirt was hanging from her in shreds, and my eyes fell below her neckline, where she started to adjust her top.

I took my eyes away, and asked her why she was drawing, in a time like this. She kept insisting that it was all a dream. I felt it hard to believe, that she hadn't figured it out yet; that we were here for good until rescue came. Sympathetically, I contradicted her claims. I had been there once, too. I had thought it was all a dream. I stood up, brushing off my jeans. "You know, if this was all a dream, I don’t think we’d be feeling this awful," I told her.

But she couldn't seem to accept it. I could see the anger boiling up, like magma behind her eyes. I turned to leave, figuring I should go look for the cockpit before it got too late. "Hold on one minute?" I heard from behind me. I smiled, thinking she'd finally came around. I expected her to follow me, maybe even thank me for not being a dick. God knows it didn't happen very often, me not being a dick.

The minute I turned my head, I saw her bring her arm forward, and sand flew into my face. I was off balance, and stumbled backwards, my eyes stinging. I clawed the sand from my eyes so I could see. Then she jumped me, hands wailing away at my face, knees and elbows everywhere. What is her problem? Her fist slammed into my side, the one with the gash. I felt dizzy for a second, a crushing pain searing through my entire abdomen. I didn't want to hurt her, but I regained composure, and pushed her away, appalled. She fell into the sand, and I almost stepped forward to help her out.

But some part of me was done with helping people out.

So I walked away, my side burning, wiping sand away from my face. My body was in even more pain than before, and frustration welled up inside of me. I hardly had a second by myself before I heard footsteps approaching me.

P.J. was running my way; satchel slung across his shoulders, eyes wide. "Hey, can I come on the hike?" he shouted as he limped towards me. Of course he wanted to come.

"Sure thing, goalie," I managed, exhausted. "But train's leavin' soon as we figure out where exactly we're headed."

"What?" P.J. said, finally meeting me at the edge of the forest, his face scarlet from sunburn and exasperation.

I rubbed the back of my head, pursing my lips. Yup, Chris, always the man with a plan. "Well," I began. "Don't know exactly where the cockpit flew off to. You see where it went during the crash?" P.J. shook his head, searching the beach for something.

"Ask him," he told me eventually, pointing about ten yards away, where a small boy sat against a tree alone. "I think his name's Quentin. Heard he's smart. He might know a thing or two about trajectories and all that." My stomach churned as I looked at him, humiliation filling me. Yet, something inside of me softened. I wondered when I'd gotten so soft. "Something wrong?" P.J. questioned.

"Nah," I said, looking down. P.J. and I made our way over to him. The boy, Quentin, didn't hear us approach, and continued sharpening the stick in his hand. He looked calm, and seemed to be subconsciously moving the rock over the wood. Like he didn't much care if it was sharp or not; like he just did it to pass the time.

I didn't say anything, so P.J. stepped forward. "Hey," he greeted. "We were wondering if you could help us." Quentin stared at his hands and what was in them, becoming still. He didn't look up at us, as if he couldn't, and his eyes turned suddenly anxious and vigilant. P.J. continued, confused by Quentin's lack of acknowledgement.

"We aren't sure where the front of the plane landed after the crash...we thought since you were smart, you might know about trajectories, and..." A bunch of other shit poured out of P.J.'s mouth, his voice becoming quieter and quieter, as if he felt that a pause in his explanation would trail off to absolute silence.

Finally, he had nothing left to say. We waited patiently. Quentin, noticing that we were still there, looked from side to side, seeming conflicted. Eventually, he spoke. "We hit turbulence before we went down." His voice sounded small, and he cleared his throat quietly.

"The plane most likely crashed because of engine failure, so the thrust would give out, and the plane's weight would pull it downwards, causing a steeper and faster vertical descent. The cockpit couldn't have gone too far, since the plane was already too close to the ground before the front could have separated from the rest of the plane. When the front of the plane broke off, the trajectory of the projectile would put it in the opposite direction of the winds' origin...so, north." He gained confidence like a car picked up speed, steadily. P.J. looked surprised. I just felt stupid.

"So, that way?" I asked, the dumb jock part of me kicking in. Well, I guess it never kicked out. I pointed to the left of us into the jungle. Quentin nodded, his eyes glancing back down at the sand. P.J. thanked him and jogged away, motioning for me to follow.

I caught Quentin's eye, and nodded. He nodded back, and the faintest half-smile crept up on his face.

Soon, P.J. and I were ready to go. "So, you good at navigating unknown terrain?" P.J. asked, half-joking.

"Well, I've only been on this island three times, maybe four before now. I don't know how much experience that lends me, you know?" P.J. laughed, as we heard a girl's voice speak up from behind us.

"I can." We both turned to face her. She was the granola bar girl. In daylight, I got a better look at her. She was about 5'7 or so, curvy, and muscularly defined, her brown hair curling just below her shoulders. Her blue eyes were sharp, and slanted. Something about her was intriguing. P.J. looked somewhat uncomfortable, so I spoke up.

"You can what, Blue?" I asked. "Make me a sandwich? Man, would I love one of those right now. Triple decker, peanut butter, mm." At her look of confusion, I laughed, and said to P.J., "She wants to make me a sandwich, Peej. Isn't she cute?"

At P.J.'s silence, I said, "Sure, you can come, pretty Blue. Just keep up, alright?"

She stared at me levelly. I didn't know whether it was because I was hot, or because I was talking nonsense. My money's on both.

I expected her to say something, but she kind of looked away, her gaze trailing off. She stared at the ground, and then at the trees behind us, and then at the ocean. Her eyes lingered on the waves. I turned to go, P.J. following my lead. "You comin', angel?"

She kind of nodded distantly, almost shrinking as she began to follow us, at least six steps behind. I fell back beside her, deciding I had to get this girl into her element. Besides, I liked playin', and I wanted to see her smile. I figured it'd go nice with her eyes.

Saph
Before we made it to the jungle, Andi got called away. I was left standing there, staring about stupidly. I noticed two boys talking to another smaller boy. Intrigued, I sidled through the sand to hear what was being said.
“So, you good at navigating unknown terrain?” One asks, half-jokingly.
My ears perk up. This could be where my skills come in! And then, if I’m doing what I’m best at, I won’t have to worry about people! Best distraction!
"Well, I've only been on this island three times, maybe four before now. I don't know how much experience that lends me, you know?" The other guy says, and the first guy laughs.
“I can,” I say, hopefully loud enough that they hear. As soon as they turn around, I wish I hadn’t.
"You can what, Blue? Make me a sandwich?” The more handsome of the two asks, and I find myself staring at him in confusion. “Man, would I love one of those right now. Triple decker, peanut butter, mm." I stare at him, blinking. He’s asking me to make him a what? I’m here to offer my skills, and he’s going to ask for food?! He turns to his friend and chuckles. "She wants to make me a sandwich, Peej. Isn't she cute?"
Cute? My anger dissipates and I hope he doesn’t notice me blushing. The sunburn probably hides it well. I’m about to make a comment in the silence, but the good looking one, or the idiot, beats me to it.
"Sure, you can come, pretty Blue. Just keep up, alright?" He winks at me.
Keep up? Oh I’ll be able to keep up, alright. But can you? The way he’s looking at me is unnerving, so I let my mind focus on … nothing, and stare about. The island, the beach, the ocean. I notice a fin break through the waves, and a ghost of a smile graces my lips.
“You comin’ angel?” I hear the handsome one say.
I nod, mind wandering. How much experience do I have with ocean stuff? It can’t be too different to bush, right? I mean, I’ve seen plenty of docos about marine life and hunting and what not. Gosh I’m grateful for being a total nature nerd right now!
Returning to the present, I realise the handsome guy is walking beside me, smiling broadly. Come on Saph, all business! But his inviting eyes, and broad smile makes me feel welcome. My psychologist is dead, but if she were here, she’d say interact! Yeah … no.
Looking away from Sandwich Boy, I let my eyes focus on the trees around us as we walk into the jungle. The air cools significantly as we walk, and I let a small, contented smile escape my lips. I close my eyes and take it all in, smiling wide.
“You have a nice smile, you know that Blue?” Sandwich Boy says.
I open my eyes and look at him, my smile fading quickly. I draw in on myself and nod slightly. Argh! Interacting with people is so hard!
“Aw, did I scare it away?” Sandwich Boy frowns.
“Scare what away?” I ask in a small voice. Where the hell is my courage? My sass?
“I’m Chris, by the way,” he holds out a hand.
“Saph,” I shake it, my grip firm. Business, strictly business. No matter how good looking he may be.
“Nice hand shake,” Chris smirks.
I chuckle. “And you have soft hands,” I glance at him under my lashes. “For a guy.”
Yay! Sass, I love you! You’ve found me! Took your bloody time though!
Chris laughs, surprised. “Whoa! Blue has claws,” he moves away a little, holding his hands up.
His reaction makes me shrink back a bit. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh. Was that harsh? I don’t know. Oh, I wish I had more confidence.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
Chris puts his arm around my shoulders reassuringly. “Hey, don’t sweat it,” he smiles at me.
Wow, human contact is so weird. I stare at his hand, on my shoulder, until he removes it. I take a deep breath, and take note of our surroundings. I recognise a few of the plants, but some I don’t know the names of. My mind starts to whir as I remember where they are, and what other things are surrounding them. As I draw myself a mental map, Chris starts to talk.
“You don’t say much, do you, Blue?” He asks. “Well, I can do the talking for us both, if you like. Hey, you’re not even listening, are you? That’s okay,” he chuckles. “Oh, you’re using your great navigational skills, aren’t you? Do you see anything out of the ordinary?”
I pause, actually spotting something strange. “Um … Chris, do you know anything about tracks?” I ask, voice devoid of emotion.
“Running tracks? Are you a runner, Blue?” Chris laughs again. “Why? Wanna race when we get back to the beach.”
“Hey Chris,” I smile sweetly at him.
He stops and stares at me. I don’t know if my tone surprises him, or because I actually look attractive. I’ve been told that my sweeter, more innocent smiles are nice to look at.
“Y-yeah?” He stammers out.
“Shut the hell up, and let me think, okay?” I snarl, my smile still sweet and innocent.
He nods blankly and follows me over to the tracks I’d spotted. Paw pads, but they don’t look big enough to be anything like a tiger or even a jaguar. The feline would be around the size of a clouded leopard or maybe a large ocelot. What I’d give to see one of those! But I think they’re only found in the Amazon.
“Are those … ?” Chris trails off.
“Don’t worry, the feline is small. Although if cornered, will probably tear your face off,” I explain, bending down. I poke the track. The dirt is hard and feels like the rest of the ground. “It’s a few days old, give or take.”
“So you’re a tracker, too?” Chris asks, his smile returning.
“Well … Mum taught me to recognise tracks and how old they are. When you’ve got dingos everywhere, it’s kinda a necessity,” I smile at the memory.
“Dingos?” Chris frowns.
“Australian wolves, I guess,” I pause for a moment. “They eat babies, you know.”
“They … do?” Chris looks absolutely mortified.
I chuckle. Wow, I actually chuckled! “No, I’m joking. It’s kinda an old Australian tale. This woman claimed a dingo took her baby, because she was facing charges of murdering the poor sod,” I shake my head. “Also, koalas aren’t drop bears, they won’t kill you and they don’t attack people. Kangaroos are pests in most places, and we actually eat them. Crocs are everywhere in the North, and sharks roam our beaches. The snakes love to sleep in your fire wood piles, and frogs will congress in your toilet when it gets too hot.”
Chris stares at me. “And I thought I was talking nonsense,” he frowns at me.
Moment of truth. Come on, Saph, be a normal person! I manage a shrug and smile, letting it reach my eyes. “Like draws like, I guess?” I offer.
“Well, I do like,” Chris winks at me.
“Will you two hurry up?” The other boy, the one that had tried to take my muesli bars, calls.
“Come on, Blue,” Chris grabs my shoulders and leads me over to his friend. This time I don’t feel so awkward. I’m beaming right now. I’m so proud of myself! I’m actually interacting with someone that would normally frighten me! Okay, now I’ll let myself admit that he’s very, very attractive.
Still business though.
“Hey, over here!” A voice calls out.
We dart forward. Chris and the other guy climb over a log, and I leap up and over it. I land gracefully on the ground and both boys stare at me in astonishment. I blush and look at the ground. I love my fitness, but maybe I should tone it down.
“Look!” A kid is pointing passed some giant leaves, and Chris’s friend walks over.
“Nice jump, Blue,” Chris smiles at me, winking.
“Was it too much?” I ask. I feel like I can be open with him. Maybe he can be my … training? Practise to be normal. He seems pretty normal, and very confident. Maybe I can be confident if I hang around him. But only if he’s cool with it. Imposing is not cool.
“No way,” Chris waves away my embarrassment.
“Uh … Chris?” Chris and I look up. “Found the cock-pit.”
“Great,” Chris beams.
We walk over and peer behind the giant leaf. Great certainly isn’t how I’d describe the scene before us. Smashed pieces of plane everywhere, and there are monkeys jumping about. Several are … oh my gosh, several of the monkeys are tearing apart the body of one of the pilots.
“Well,” I pull out my hunting knife. “We gotta go down there, right?”
All three look at me and exclaim in surprise.

Harold

The sun rose again, finding the lot of 'em staggering around on the beach. Harold milled around the edge of the forest, waiting, like he had been since he got here, like everybody still was.

The guy he'd met last night was nowhere to be found. He'd been nice, at least to the mask Harold had put on, maybe that was the only reason, maybe not.

He stopped for a minute to stretch and spotted a small group forming. Quentin was with Mahoney, who had just finished talking, probably flirting, with another girl. He didn't know her name. Strange, he knew everyone's name.

Harold strode towards them purposefully. Hopefully they would see him coming, though they usually didn't.

"Hey! Hey Chris!"

Chris kept walking.

Harold grumbled to himself and waved his hands around in a futile attempt to catch the jock's attention. Chris didn't bat an eye, neither did anyone else.

Then he shouted,

"BALL, BALL, BALL!"

Both Chris and PJ whipped their heads around, the goalie's hands raising slightly.

Harold laughed, doubling over, his hands on his knees. The goalie's face slowly reddened and Chris looked as if he was ready to dig his fist right through Harold's smile.

"Sorry for that." He nodded to the lady, who was teetering on the brink of bursting out laughing.

"W-What the hell was that?!"

"Well, I tried hailing you. Didn't seem to hear me though."

PJ just stood there, not mad, not like Chris, just red in the face.

The jock took a couple deep breaths then bought himself under control.

"Well what do you want?"

"It seems you're going somewhere? May I ask where?"

PJ spoke up this time.

"We're going to find the plane cockpit, maybe scavenge some stuff from there."

Harold raised an eyebrow.

"And just how do you know where this thing is?"

The goalie's eyes darted over to Quentin then back.

"We know where we're going." Chris said heatedly. Challenging Harold to disagree.

"Well..."

He awkwardly gestured to the forest.

Both Chris and PJ looked at each other, uncertain. Then the girl spoke up.

"Hey, Chris, why don't we just let him come. The more the merrier right?"

All three looked at each other, the men swiveling to face who spoke. It was all Harold could do not to laugh. The situation was ripped straight from a sitcom. Hilariously comical.

Then they all looked at Quentin. The poor kid seemed to be trying to shrink into the sand. He hunched down, his eyes darting from one person to another. Finally, he nodded, a little less than an involuntary shudder. But that settled it. Harold moved in with the group and together they set off into the undergrowth.

Harold found the cockpit; I guess it was a good thing to've brought him along. I didn't mind too much. He seemed like a smart ass, but then again, I was a smart ass—and I respected a guy who could make a good joke. P.J. seemed to have forgiven him for the humor he'd exercised earlier, and they had some kind of bromance thing going on up in front.

Blue and I hung in the back. She was quite the conversationalist. I liked girls like her; the nervous, smart ones. It wasn't as easy to feign confusion, to play the stupid-jock card, or to blame my STML for my problems. Some of them couldn't be charmed with a smile–even this smile. Likewise, I was always up for a challenge. In fact, challenges were my forte. Besides, there was something curious about her that I couldn't quite place.

It wasn't long before Harold yelled to me that he'd found it. I made my way up to him as he pushed aside the leaves.

We all took in the scene before us; the remnants of metal and half-eaten corpses that were once the cockpit. The interior was dark, obscured by the leafy green vines that had already curled over the appendage. The windshield had smashed upon impact, and the pilot's torso was caught between the broken glass, his upper half hanging towards the ground. Blood seeped from his middle, dribbling down the nose of the plane.

There were at least six monkeys—I counted—lingering around the death scene; hopping around, screeching eerily. Every time I thought I knew how many there were, more popped out from inside, where they were most likely feasting on the bodies. The bodies. I wondered if anyone was still alive. I tore my eyes away from where one of the monkeys had its head buried in the jugular of the pilot, a pool of blood forming around its head.

Blue took out a hunting knife of some sort, and I backed up, surprised. "What's that for?" P.J. asked, echoing my thoughts.

"Just in case," she replied, looking as sick as I felt. With that, she stepped into the clearing towards the plane. P.J. and I exchanged a hesitant look before I took off after her. I don't care how much she thinks she knows about this stuff. If anyone's going in there, it's me.

I made my way in front of her, and put my hand on the inside wall of the plane, peering inside. Blue looked over my shoulder.

It was uncannily silent inside. The monkeys must have all exited. The plane was tilted upwards; so much so that it would be difficult to climb up to the cockpit. Corpses were still strapped into their seats; the seat backs were facing us. Every once in a while, the plane would creak slightly, and the feet dangling below the seats would swing, back and forth. A putrid stench filled the air.

I put my shirt over my nose. "Let's get this over with," I mumbled, getting a firm grip on the seats on either side of me.

"Peanuts or pretzels, sir?" The flight attendant asked me, carrying a quaint basket of snack bags the size of my fist. I looked out the window, not having been able to sleep since I'd begun to suffer from virtual NBA All-Stars withdrawal. Count: 6 hours, 22 minutes.

"Did I hear steak dinner?" I asked, turning to face her. She was a young woman in her twenties, her stewardess uniform a standard black and white; shoulders slightly pointed.

She chuckled, and shook her head, her short caramel hair bobbing. "Sorry, but we're not a buffet."

"Well, then I guess I'll take both," I said, smiling, grabbing the bags she handed me. She smiled back at me over her shoulder as she walked away. I was about to put my headphones on, before I heard someone speak up from beside me.

"This seat taken?" I looked up at Lou Emerson; baseball co-captain. His curly black hair stuck out from beneath his Braves cap, and his chocolate skin looked dark in contrast to mine.

"Well, seeing that it's your seat," I said, reaching out to shake his hand. He returned the handshake, and sat down in the seat next to mine.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Gehrig. Still hitting like a girl?" I asked him, laughing.

"Yeah, you're funny, Mahoney. If I remember correctly, I was the one with a 534 batting average last season," he countered, smirking at me.

"Bygones," I replied. "Hey," I whispered, nudging him, sneaking a look behind me. "Six o'clock. Hottie with the blond hair." Lou swiveled his head, attempting subtlety.

"Whoa," he said. "You know her?" I reached over and turned his head back around.

"Oh yeah," I replied. "Physics class. Always flirts me up." I grinned, looking back over my shoulder. Lou looked with me. I elbowed him. "It's okay, Gehrig. You just don't have any of this." I gestured to my face, and I winked a few times.

He rolled his eyes. "Think that winking's gonna get you anywhere, Mahoney?"

"Either the wink, or my striking James Bond impression." I posed, flicking my shades down, and Lou socked me in the stomach. "Ooh, right in the abs," I laughed, and tried to get him in a headlock.

Suddenly, turbulence rocked the plane, sending my shoulder into the window. The turbulence quieted down, and I rubbed my shoulder. There would be a bruise there, for sure.

The intercom switched on. "Attention, ladies and gentlemen. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. We're hitting some mild turbulence—"

The plane rocked again, more violently, and this time, it didn't relent. I gripped the arms of my seat, my whole body vibrating. Lou gritted his teeth, looking over at me, as a deafening, ear-piercing beeping sound began to fill my ears. A suitcase fell from the luggage compartment, and came down on Lou's head, rendering him unconscious. Blood streamed from the corner of his eye, and I shakily unbuckled my seatbelt, pulling him back into his seat. The plane jerked to the right, and my body smashed into the wall.

The plane screamed as it fell, and I struggled to grab the mask that hung from the ceiling, putting it to my face. My heart raced, and I closed my eyes.

I snapped out of it, pulling myself up the aisle. Blue followed behind, and then Harold and P.J., all of us finding whatever we could to propel us forward. Without touching the bodies. We wouldn't touch the bodies.

The plane creaked under our weight, and rolled slightly. I grabbed two seats and stopped as to keep from falling. Blue lost her grip, and almost tumbled backwards into Harold before her hand reached out, grabbing my shirt. She steadied herself. "Sorry," she mumbled, blushing, strands of her hair sticking to her face. Her voice was cutting in the silence.

"You okay?" I asked. She nodded, squinting at her hand, and then rubbing it against her leg.

"Are you bleeding?" She asked, surprised.

"Nope," I lied, quickly continuing to climb up the aisle. When we reached the top, we caught our breath, propping ourselves up in front of two empty seats with our feet. After about a minute, I grunted, "Okay," pushing off from my knee and grabbing the doorknob of the cockpit. My hands started to sweat and slip. I quickly wrenched the door open, thrusting it inward.

My elbow caught on the inside of the wall, and the door fell back against me. On my stomach, I panted, getting back to my knees. "Nice," P.J. commended quietly. He reached up and held the door open so we could all crawl inside.

The copilot was sprawled across the floor, arm torn from his body. How does that even happen? I wondered as I used the pilot's chair as a handhold to climb over the body. Blue was staring at the body, wide-eyed.

"Yo, here," I beckoned, offering my hand. She stared at my hand for a moment before taking it, and climbing over the copilot. She didn't let go, her grip tightening as she looked at the body in the windshield.

I pulled my hand away subconsciously, beginning to rummage through the mess for the radio. P.J. and Harold helped, and after overcoming her initial shock, Blue searched alongside us. She kept glancing at me, and I was glad that my injured side was facing away from her. We looked in silence for about two minutes before we heard it.

The plane creaked, moving slightly, followed by a crunching sound to our left. Harold was nearest to me, and we exchanged a wary look, before continuing to pick through the rubble. Seconds later, we heard it again, but louder, followed by a deep growl. We froze, as a shadow passed over the window, and then disappeared. The crunching and growling continued. The plane shook slightly as whatever it was prowled outside of the window.

"Think it's that cat you were talking about, Blue?" I whispered.

"That's no cat," Harold remarked.

Heavy footsteps thudded outside, coming closer, and its shadow loomed over us. That's some big cat. We were still frozen, panting.

Suddenly, something slammed against the nose of the plane, lifting it above the ground. Blue screamed as she tumbled backwards, sliding down the aisle and towards the ground. Her arms shot out, catching on the feet of the corpses in the seats, trying to save herself.

Instinct kicked in, and I went after her, leading myself down seat by seat. The plane's nose dropped suddenly, and I fell on my back. Blue was outside of the plane now; her back was on the ground, and she crab-walked backwards. Her eyes were wide, and she was looking up at something.

I scrambled to my feet and dashed down the aisle. P.J. wasn't behind me; I had no idea where he'd went. I caught sight of Harold disappearing into a thicket of trees behind the plane. I got to Blue as she got to her feet. Her hands shook and she stared upwards. I ran into her, turning her around. "Run," I breathed. She stared at me. Adrenaline pumped through me. "Blue, go!" I yelled. Her lip trembled and she took off. I ran after her; I couldn't see it, but I could hear it behind me, chasing after us, wanting us dead.

Dammit, the radio. I had to go back. Blue'd had a few steps of a head start on me, and I realized I had no idea where she was, either. Suddenly, the noise of the pursuit ceased entirely. I couldn't hear the monster behind me any longer; I hoped it hadn't gone after her. But I couldn't stop to think. I ran in the opposite direction, knowing she'd probably think she'd lost me.

When I got back to the plane, it was empty. The monkeys were gone; I was all alone. I sprinted into the plane, and to the cockpit along the now-zero slope of the aisle. It took me five minutes to retrieve the radio from underneath a pile of shrapnel.

I shoved it in my jeans pocket. "Blue!" I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth. What's her name? "Saph!" My voice echoed in the silence. I couldn't just leave them behind. "Harold! Peej!" I caught my breath. "Yo!" I yelled to the sky.

I hoped for an answer. With every shout, a searing pain shot through my side. I developed a lumbering gait as I traipsed around the front of the plane. I grew dizzy, stumbling over bulging roots and undergrowth. My head began to spin, and I could feel blood seeping through my shirt. Jesus, Chris. Don't pass out.

Subconsciously, I started mumbling to myself; about James Bond mostly. About spy movies and gun shots and how I was basically just like those action heroes, stumbling around in the jungle before whispering memorable last words, nobly perishing at the hands of the enemy.

I carried on about it under my breath, every halfwitted thought slipping past my lips, like I was drunk. Finally, my vision blurred. My shoulder fell against an oak tree at the front of the clearing. I pressed a hand to my stomach, willing myself to stand up straight. Instead, my chin began to sink into my chest.

It took all I had to stay conscious.

Rian Olympia Tyler

Just as the boarding announcement for my flight went off, I felt my heart skip a beat. I've flown so many times, this shouldn't be any different, and yet, I felt like it was.

Ways I would hate to die
Plane crash

It's pretty much just that one thing. I had feelings about flying every time I flew, but I was always fine and relieved. It's just this time, my mind was so foggy. It's like I had a sixth sense or something. I could have just backed away, said no. But, I had to go, I had to visit my cousin.

He told me he had something big to tell me and he really missed me.

But then it happened, like fate really didn't want me finding out or something. One second I'm in the air, listening to my music, and the next all I feel is my stomach drop. I opened my eyes and found people crying.

That's when the plane dropped.

And now here I am, on a beach, barely awake. Feeling as if I was high and unsure of what was going on.

Most of the survivors hurried off into the forest behind us while the rest of us wandered, dazed and confused.

I, for one, am a loner. So I got up and walked down the sand, hearing it crunch under my converse. The waves hit the shore in a soft hiss as my mind blanked out. I was thinking too much for my own good.

I always thought until my head exploded.

It was then that I had noticed I wasn't by the ocean anymore. There were trees surrounding me and many sounds picked at my ears. The wind here was denser, causing more sweat to drench down my skin. I kept on walking through, wary of every insect that clung to my shoes.

There were faint noises just a few feet in front of me, like shuffling and talking. Maybe that's where the other guys went. I kept on walking, finding my way around the trees, alright with there branches scarring my skin. My heart raced once I reached the clearing.

A huge plane, the one that we were on, was lying on the ground, broken and smoky. There were so many things splayed around it, glass, food, bags... bodies. Or, body parts. I didn't want to confirm nor deny that. One of the girls from our group was standing just at the door, making her way inside.

Why would they go back in there? Actually, I wouldn't be surprised.

I crossed my way over the items, ignoring the memories of a few hours ago.


"Hello, any drinks for you, madame?" the flight attendant asked me sweetly.

I looked up, smiling back. "Could I just have some tea?"

She nodded and started to pour the tea into a small cup. I waited, waiting her nimble fingers work the tea bag, dropping it into t he cup and the water heated it up, letting the color bleed into the water.

Once she handed me the cup, I gave her a smile and she returned it with her 'too thin pink lips'. I had a tendency to judge people right off the bat. I would say she tried to hard but she is super sweet anyway.

I looked over the cabin, somehow remembering faces to names I gave them. I didn't know their names, but everyone on this flight seemed memorable, like I should know each and every one of them.

There was a cute guy just to my left, with that surfer boy blonde hair, but you could tell he was so shy, he wouldn't even say hello. I named him Sam, it just fit him. But, I couldn't call him that for so long, I saw the gloves he kept in his pocket. PJ was written just at the top of them.

Wait. PJ ... I looked back at his face, tracing every aspect of familiarity. Oh my, it was PeeJay! He used to play with my brother on the soccer team. I tried to smile at him, but somehow, he was really focused in not looking back at me.

Why did I like him last year? This makes things even more heart wrenching.

I went back to staring at the seat in front of me, engulfed in the music that played in my ears. Twenty One Pilots always seemed to calm me down. Well, calm me down before the storm. As they hit the chorus to Not Today, I felt the plane dive a bit. Turbulence, it happens a lot. I'm used to it, but my stomach still drops.

Taking off one ear bud, I listened to the intercom. Just turbulence, buckle your seat belts.

Oh, were they wrong.

I stepped over one pink suitcase, almost tripped on a duffel bag, making my way to the wing. I would say the wing was the length of seven of me. That's not a small plane. It was those big ones that children 'awwwwwe' at.

"Don't touch it!" I heard someone say from inside.

Finally reaching the door, I pulled myself up, peeking my head in. There were three other people inside with their shirts to their faces. I looked over the seats and saw people leaning against their seats. On the floors was a clutter of food, and stuff. Just a mess of books, phones, pens... everything. Belongings.

That's when the scent finally hit me and I cringed my nose, bringing my shirt to my face.

They were mumbling to each other as they kept walking down the aisle. I looked around them, not moving from my spot. Everything seemed the same as it was when we landed, dead. I took a step forward and caught sight of the cockpit. There was something just at the windshield. I couldn't tell what it was. All I could see was fur.

Just as I was about to scream at them, something jumped out of the cockpit, running at them. I swallowed me yells and begged my heart to not break my chest from its rapid pace. I let my legs get a mind of their own and ran off the plane, noticing monkeys were attacking the inside.

I was looking back, not keeping my attention to the road in front of me, which happened to be covered in a bunch of shit. I tripped over something, falling head first onto a metal bag, causing my head to throb as my body hit the dirt ground.

Every bone in my body ached as if someone tossed me down a hole that was ten meters long. I heard screams as I blinked in and out of consciousness. Somehow I managed to snap myself out of the pain, and looked up, finding everyone out of the plane, on the ground.

Sam was here.

I tried to sit up, grabbing my head in my hands as the pain stung suddenly.

"Rian?" the girl asked.

"Yeah?"

She just collected her thoughts, looking over the ground. There were a few more people sitting up, unsure of what just happened. I looked back at the plane and saw the monkeys have just disappeared. They vanished. Where did they go?

I looked around, maybe they were gonna attack us in just a few seconds. But they weren't anywhere in sight. My skin crawled as I sat up, noticing a guy lying unconscious.

Gulping down my fright, I had no doubt of who that was.

I sat up, crawling my way over to him. My heart raced as I touched his neck, feeling a pulse. I let my breath go and tilted his head a bit, maybe that would help.

"Hey, Pete." I whispered to him, my voice came out more needy than it had to be. "Pete,"

I called him that just to piss him off. It's an on-going thing that he started himself with his stupid love for nicknames. But it worked, his eyes fluttered open.They were so green, like the trees around us. I smiled as those eyes met mine.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice was hoarse.

"Oh Chris," I smiled even wider.

Staph
"Run!" Chris yells. "Blue, go!"
I didn't want to leave him, but my feet ignored my brain. They carried me fast and blindly through the forest. Through leaves and branches, my skin and clothes torn apart by thorns and sticks. I run and run, and suddenly, my brain catches up, and I stop.
Where the hell am I?
Looking around, I realise I don't recognise anything. I turn around to see a faint line from my crashing through the forest. I start back that way at a jog when a scream reaches my ears. I stop, head tilted to the side. I can feel my fear prickling away under my skin, adrenalin pumping through my veins. A sound vibrates through my body, and I start in surprise.
Did I just ... Growl?
Beside me, the leaves shimmer. Another growl shudders through my body, the leaves trembling from the sound. No, I didn't growl. But whatever did is bloody huge.
A pair of black nostrils push their way through the leaves, followed by a huge, ape like face. My mouth goes dry, my heart stops, and my stomach twists into an intricate knot. The huge monkey, bigger than a baboon even, climbs out of the forest to snarl at me. Its dark eyes fixate on me, and moves slowly down to the ground. It stands near my shoulder height on two legs, and at my hips on all fours. Sharp, yellow teeth are flashed at me as the monkey growls for the third time.
"Fuck my life," I breathe and jolt into my fastest sprint yet.
The monkey crashes behind me, hideous, gutteral sounds escaping its gaping mouth. I know normal people would be screaming at this point, but my mind is too focused on staying on my track and figuring out a way to lose the monkey. I see a thin spiral of black smoke rising in the air. Abandoning my initial trail, I change direction, leaping over a large log and fall through some vines. I yelp as I hit the ground and scramble to my feet, looking up as the monkey crashes through the vines after me.
My feet are moving again, and when I face my new trail, my breath hitches in my throat. I skid to a stop and fall onto my backside. The hunting knife is in my hand in an instant, but I don't get to use it.
The panther snarls and leaps, her streamline body sailing over mine. Her claws are extended and her jaw is wide open. Her teeth clamp down on the monkey's face, her claws ripping into its flesh.
Without a moment to lose, I push myself to my feet, stitches forming in my side, shoulder and chest. A sob wracks through my body as the pain sears through my body. I sprint as fast as I can toward the remnants of the plane. As I crash through the trees and into the unnatural clearing, all the monkeys look up at me, and snarl.
"Oh shit," I manage through gasping breaths.
They all lunge at me. The knife flashes in my hand as I slice through the first money, and the second. The third collides with me, teeth snapping for my neck. I kick it in the stomach, my knife slashing at its face. Blood splatters over my body as the monkey falls on me, dead. I kick it off me and jump to my feet. The rest of the monkeys are staring at me, hissing and snarling. Slowly, I edge around them, bloody blade gripped tightly in my hand. They watch me, and when I'm at familiar trees, I spin around and bolt. For the third time today I'm running for my life, but this time I can feel every leaf and twig snapping over my skin, every root and rock that stabs into my feet, and every jagged breath that enters and leaves my lungs. Everything hurts, and tears stream down my face, mingling with the blood. Everything hurts so much, but the sound of the monkeys behind me pushes me forward.
"Blue?!" Chris's voice reaches my ears, and I cry out in joy.
My feet carry me in that direction, and then I remember the monkeys behind me. It's too late. I crash into a clearing. Chris, the other two guys, and a girl look up to stare at me in total shock. I don't have time to explain as I spin around.
A monkey jumps out from behind a tree and I stab it in the chest. It hits the ground and another one comes flying at me. I heave air into my lungs and brace myself. The monkey hits me and I push hard. The knife flashes red and silver as I jab the vicious creature in the side and chest. It squeals and falls away from me.
"Run!" I roar.
Chris stumbles to his feet and everyone helps him as we run - me with a jolting gait - back toward the beach. One of the guys picks up Chris and slings him over his shoulder. We sprint through the forest until we reach the hot, yellow sand. The monkeys screech, but don't follow. The other people on the beach look up at us in surprise as we all stumble over the sand. I fall to my knees, breathing hard, wheezing. My throat burns from the need for oxygen, and I start to shake. I don't have time to rest, though, because the girl is yelling for first aid and help.
Blood is all over Chris's side. I slide over to him and cut the fabric of his shirt away with the knife. I replace is back in my torn up boot and peer at the gash. It isn't too deep, but may need a couple of stitches. A green box is shoved into my lap and I open it up. I'm given water and I clean the wound.
"Can anyone stitch up the worst of it?" I ask, eyes searching frantically for help.
A boy kneels down beside me, giving me a long look, before stitching up the worst of the gash on Chris's side. I glance at his face for a moment. It is drenched in sweat, and his eyes are opening and closing, his lips moving quickly as he mumbles. When the boy that had done the stitching moves away, I push Chris into a sitting position and bandage up his side. As soon as I lower Chris back into the sand, I move back.
"What the hell happened?" Someone asks.
A few people look at me as the two guys try to explain. I don't quite hear their words. My vision blurs a little, trying to find something to focus on. My watery blue gaze comes to rest on Chris's face, and his eyes watch me. His brow furrows in confusion as I start to sway.
"Blue?" His lips are saying.
I try to tell him that he'll be fine now, but nothing comes out of my mouth. My eyes roll back and I fall. Everything goes black. The last thing I remember before completely losing consciousness is someone shouting my name and a hand grabbing my face gently. And then nothing.

P.J.

I was running. I was running and I had Chris on my back. I don't remember anything before that. Next thing we were on the beach and I was stitching Saph and Chris up. Other peoples blood covered me from head to toe and reeked of it. I was a zombie. Stumbling around, dazed, from person to person. My hair hung in strings in front of my eyes, dark red and brown streaks through them. My eyes glassy and tired, I collapsed on the beach exhausted and in shock. I curled up in a ball and took a nap surrounded in smoke and tears.





It came back to me in flashes. The panther, the screaming, blood everywhere. We needed to get off the beach and into safety.

I ran to find Chris laying on the beach where I had left him, "We need shelter, this island is going to kill us."

"Dude don't worry we need to stay on the beach in case someone comes." Chris said lazily shielding his eyes from the sun.

"But what if they don't." I said fear rising through my cracking voice. "What if they aren't coming, then what. We fucking die. But no, not if we have some god damn shelter. We need this Chris"

"Dude, chill lemme rest for a little bit then we'll figure all of this out I promise." Chris said grunting in pain from his gash.

I nodded and started pacing back in forth across the beach planning little details of where and how base should be built. It should be high and have a roof with room for supplies but still close enough to the beach that we would be able to see any boats. Tree house.

I instantly started sketching out the design of how it should be built in the sand with my finger. I stood back and admired my work and waited for Chris, bouncing a small rock on my feet.

"Pete." The voice sounded like it came from a million miles away. My eyes focused slowly. I saw her familiar face and ringleted blonde hair, her icy blue eyes taking in the pathetic sight of me laying there. "Oh, Chris," she said, her mouth curving up in a wary smile.

I tried to sit up. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. "Ree," I managed gruffly, my heart thumping.

"You look terrible," She said, trying to hide her anxiety, staring at the blood on my shirt.

I noticed she was bleeding just below her hairline. I fell back against the tree behind me. My eyes fluttered closed, and then open again. "What the hell are you doing here?" I admonished.

She started stammering about wandering through the jungle, or something. All I could think about was how I told P.J., that son of a bitch, to take care of her. You're her brother, Chris. You fucking take care of her.

I tried to sit up again. Rian gently pushed me back to the ground. I sat up anyway. "You know, you really shouldn't—"

"Go back to the beach," I interrupted her, loud enough that my whole body seemed to ache. She started to protest. "Go back to the beach, Rian!" She looked startled at first, before she crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

"Don't order me around, Pete. I can take care of myself just fine." She fixed my shirt, like better than you, anyway, and I frowned.

"Just go back."

"No."

"Ree."

"No. I'll stay with you, even if it kills me," she insists. I roll my eyes, my shoulders falling back.

"Jesus, Queen Elizabeth. You keep that up, and I'll get up and headlock you." My head swam, and I felt like I was spinning. She had the audacity to laugh at me, and brushed the hair out of my face.

"I don't think you're going anywhere," she said. "And 'headlock' isn't a verb."

"Shut it," I breathed, my eyes closing.

"Okay, Pete," she scoffed.

"Jesus Christ, stop with that Pete thing." She smiled at me. No matter how pissed off I was with her stubbornness, I thanked God she was okay.

Suddenly, there was a crashing sound coming from the forest. I could see the tops of the trees swaying, and the undergrowth parted, the sound getting louder. Rian turned her head to look.

A girl stumbled through the brush, her chocolate hair whipping around, her blue eyes wide and striking. My heart jumped. "Blue!" I shouted, my heart still racing. She almost tripped at my voice, and I thought she was sprinting towards me. At once, she spun around, and a monkey flew out of the jungle. Flew. Like in The Wizard of Oz. Rian had begged me to watch that movie so many times. C'mon, Chris, please,she would say, it's not dumb like you say. Don't you wanna see Toto? As if the prospect of seeing Toto would turn me on.

Toto, my ass, I would say, flopping down on my bed and pulling the pillow over my face. Go to bed or I'll run Toto over with a golf cart. I was in that phase where if it didn't involve girls, sports, or fast cars, than I wasn't buying too far into it.

Rian would hug her arms to her body, always having been stubborn. Well, if you don't watch, than I'll take your Aaron Rodgers signed jersey and cut it up with scissors.

We'd argue until our threats simmered down to "you suck" and "the Packers suck", because Rian knew me and she knew that insulting the Packers was a bigger offense than insulting me.

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

Blue started slashing at the monkey with her knife, flashes of red and silver all I could see. "Run!," Blue yelled. Get up and help her, was all I was thinking. Adrenaline pulled me to my feet. A wrenching pain shot through my stomach, and a wave of nausea passed over me. My knees buckled, blackness closing in.

P.J. caught me, I think, and Rian was crying because he was telling her to get first aid. "Blue," I was mumbling, struggling out of P.J.'s grip as my senses numbed.

And then I was out.

--

I groaned when I woke up for the second time. I was back at the beach. The sun was hot as hell. I was sweating. More than I ever had in football practice. The pain had dulled to a subtle ache, and I saw that someone must have stitched me up. My heart rate quickened at the mere thought of the needle that must have been responsible. Then I felt somewhat relieved since 1. I was unconscious for the entire thing, thank God and 2. That means I didn't actually have to tell anybody that I was afraid of needles.

My eyes settled on whoever was sitting in front of me. It was Blue, I realized. I was about to say something witty or charming until I saw the look on her face. Her eyes watered, and blood covered the entire front of her shirt. Her face was pale, and her eyes wandered from my face before she fell to the ground, collapsing into a heap in the sand.

God damn.

"Blue," I coaxed, feeling stiff and groggy, moving towards her body. I took her face gently in my hand. Her head was limp and heavy, her parched lips slightly agape. I turned to face some of the others that had noticed her fall. "Hey, yo, someone get some water over here," I commanded. I sat closer to her, propping her head up on my shoulder.

It was seconds before that red-haired kid—Harry or Hector or something—shoved a dusty half-bottle of water into my hand. I popped the cap as her eyes fluttered open. She had long eyelashes.

"You okay, sweetheart?" I asked her. She only stared at me, so I put the bottle to her lips and let her drink for a while.

The majority of the onlookers began to leave the scene. She coughed for a bit, so I set the bottle down in the sand. She laid on my shoulder for a good while before she realized where she was and sat up, mumbling, "My head hurts like hell."

"That's the dehydration talking," I told her, squinting in the sun. "I'd give you more water, except we only got a few bottles left." I continued almost without a pause, not wanting her to worry about the water supply. "You know, I'd kill for some Gatorade right now. All those electrolytes. That's why a lot of athletes drink Gatorade during games, because it has a lot of electrolytes."

I didn't mention that I didn't know squat about electrolytes. Instead, I just kept talking as I meandered over to the suitcase with the T-shirts that a few guys had been sorting, talking as I stripped off my shirt, talking as I put the new one on. "Energy drinks," I guess I was saying, "are the worst thing you could put into your body. You drink them, you feel hyped and ready to play, and then you crash. Happened to me once, middle of the game. Coach was pissed." I laughed. I was about to put the clean shirt on, when I looked down at my stitches, all twenty-eight of them, for the first time. "Nice stitching job," I commented, knowing nothing at all about stitches, interrupting my own tiresome rant. "Was that Peej or you?"

Blue's eyes were fixed on me, on my face, on my torso. She was checking me out, or something, I was sure of it. It's like she totally forgot I was talking to her. "Peej or you?" I repeated, my mouth half open. She blinked quickly and jabbed her thumb to the right, where P.J. was talking to my sister about thirty yards away. "You sure you're all right, Blue?"

She stared at the ground. "Yeah," she said quickly. "Yeah, I think so." She shrugged, stammering. "Just, you know, I think I'm lacking some of those electrolytes." I laughed, and she smiled, blushing through her sunburnt cheeks.

"You're cute," I said. Her face turned a darker shade of pink, which gave me some satisfaction. I grinned, and then said, "Oh yeah, and you know, when you were yacking to me about those baby-eating dingos, you could've thrown in something about the monkeys."

She laughed, her face still flushed, and joked, "I guess it slipped my mind." Her arms were looped under her bent knees, and she looked up at me.

I sat down next to her in the sand, absolutely exhausted. "Well, a little heads up would've been nice." I sat next to her. She kind of shrank away, like she was afraid I'd get too close, and then she stopped herself.

Before I could ask her if I needed a shower or something, she said, "Hey, Chris?" Her accent with my name made me grin.

"Yup."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure thing," I said.

She stuttered. "Well, I'm kind of an outcast." I was surprised, a little. I reached in my pockets and began pulling out their contents.

"How's that?" I encouraged.

She started pulling at her fingers, avoiding eye contact. "Well, before the plane crash, I had a psychologist." She gulped, almost visibly, like they do in the movies. "I watched her die right in front of me."

"Sorry," I said. I wasn't very good at apologies.

She shook her head, like I didn't understand. "I had a psychologist because...well, I have a social disorder. I'm not good at, you know, interacting with people."

It was getting dark; the sun was almost invisible behind the horizon, and shadows were cast across the ground. It didn't really phase me, that she had some disorder. If she was different, so be it. I liked complicated, anyhow. Just not math. God almighty, I hated math. It was like a curse God put on humanity.

"You're doing just fine," I told her.

She turned to me, beaming radiantly, her eyes widening, like I just told her something extraordinarily great. Like what I actually said was Look, a boat, we're getting rescued!

I felt like I had to continue. "I mean, look at me. I'm a total dipshit. I can't even remember peoples' names right." I laughed. "Nobody's perfect, Blue."

And gosh, did she look over-the-moon happy when I said that. She looked like she could kiss me.

"Hey Chris!" I heard suddenly from down the beach, a short guy I didn't recognize running up to us. He kicked up sand behind him when he came. He glanced at Blue and then back at me. "We're gonna light the, uh, fuselage. Some of us want to say a few words for the, well, for the people that..."

I nodded. "Yup, right." I stood up, brushing the sand off my pants. I looked down at Blue, and realized I didn't much want to leave her. Mild disappointment washed over me. Man, I like her. It was strange. Usually I didn't much care.

And then I realized that I still had the radio. We still might be able to pick up a signal. I figured we could work that out tomorrow, if no one sees our signal fire. Slash body burning. God, was that sick.

If not, we'd have to find shelter like P.J. said. Some place near water. And we'd have to convince the others to leave the safety of the beach; to stop relying on the chance of rescue, and to start focusing on surviving.

We sat by the fire for a while, all of us. It was the biggest fire I'd ever seen, bigger than any bonfire at any post-game party I had ever been to. I didn't stand too close, but close enough. A lot of people cried, their sobs mixed cacophonously with the crackling of embers. Almost nobody actually said anything, because it was hard to hear over the fire, over the rush of the ocean.

I sat with my forearms rested on my knees, staring into the licking flames that hid all evidence of the dead. I sat so close my face felt like it was melting away, so close the smoke made my eyes water, so close my skin was on fire.

All I thought of was what I would say about him if I was brave enough. Lou Emerson. He had a hell of a throwing arm.

He could throw all the way from left field to home plate. I guess he probably should've been a catcher, or left-fielder, but he mostly played first base. He liked how it let him use the whole infield, how he could flip me off behind his glove when I fielded his grounder and whipped it at his feet from shortstop. He liked catching players in a pickle, and then picking them off. He was the best goddamn first baseman I ever met.

We were co-captains, and we would warm each other up, and sometimes we would go up to the field in the summer when we didn't have a game, and practice. We would make up a hundred different signs to communicate batting instructions. We started using them in the classrooms. Like tapping your chin and touching your ears meant the answer was "a", signaling a safe slide was "your house after school", strikeout meant "damn, she's hot", and like that.

When we practiced alone, all the balls that landed in the outfield were home runs, and I would milk it like crazy, jogging around the bases, screaming through my hands. Lou would tackle me at home base. We did it over until it was dark.

Besides baseball, we were buddies. He liked Raiders of the Lost Ark and Speed, and I liked all the James Bond movies. We watched movies until we could say all the lines. He liked the Braves, and I liked the Tigers, but we watched all the games that were on.

Mostly, he was a good guy. A better guy than I ever was. And I hate him for leaving, Jesus Christ, I hate him so bad.

He was the best goddamn friend I ever met.

Blue didn't sit by the fire, she sat by the ocean, her silhouette outlined by the ominous shadow of the fire. I felt her eyes on me, watching me, her hair flying back in the wind, her feet engulfed by the waves, tank top slipping off of her shoulder.

She watched me hold it together, maybe wondering if I'd let a tear or two slip, wondering if I was human, too, wondering if we all had those things like her psychologist that die right in front of us.

God, I think we do.

Saph
They all stood around the massive fire, watching it burn. Most people were crying, some were just standing there, staring at the ground, grim looks on their faces. Some with remorse, some even with regret. But I didn’t want to stand over there. I’ve never been good with dealing with the dead. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I don’t know how to show how I feel, and I just … don’t like feeling the pain. I mean, sure my psychologist wasn’t family or a lifelong friend, but she helped me through a lot of stuff, and I never got to say thank you. So I just move away from the fire and the people, and stand in the water. The cold air and the icy water makes me grin wide. It feels like my heart, how I’ve closed it off. Cold and moving without purpose.
I glance back at the fire to find Chris staring back at me. He has so many emotions flashing through his eyes. I don’t want to be a part of them, but he’s my friend, and he helped me when I needed help. I feel slightly obliged to go and comfort him. But then again, he’s a guy. He’d probably feel embarrassed to be comforted by a girl. Let alone some weirdo like me. But what he said before … I felt accepted, like it was okay to be so messed up. I wanted to hug him and cheer. But I didn’t. I just gave him a big smile.
My eyes return to the ocean. The dark blue stretches out into the horizon, disappearing in a haze of black. The stars twinkle in a blanket of purple-black, lights blinking and winking at me. I stare at the sky and the ocean and let my mind fall away. The water rushing around my legs loses its bite, and the wind ruffling my long hair no longer sends shivers down my body. My eyes start to water from staring for so long, but I don’t want to blink. When I blink, everything comes crashing back.
“Blue?”
I blink rapidly to clear my eyes and turn to Chris.
“Hey,” I smile at him.
“You look cold,” he says softly as he stands beside me. His voice is heavy, thick with emotion. His eyes are misty, like he might cry, but his face is stony. “Why are you all the way over here and not by the fire, where it’s warm?”
I turn my gaze back to the ocean. “I don’t want to feel the pain,” I admit. “If I watch them burn, I’ll feel the pain. And then I’ll cry and I don’t want to cry.”
Chris chuckles. “Well, why stand here in a tank top and shorts?” Chris looks at my attire, and I blush. “Wait … you’re …”
“I changed into some jeans that I found. And um … I found a singlet, but it’s too big for me,” I tell him, my face growing redder.
“But you’re not wearing jeans,” Chris furrows his brow.
“Yeah I know, I took them off to stand by the water,” I look away quickly.
“Right,” Chris shakes his head. “You’re standing in the water wearing only a tank top. You took your pants off why?” He gives me a stern look.
Fear shoots through my body. “I-I didn’t want th-the jeans to get wrecked,” I stammer.
“But it’s cold! You could get sick!” Chris throws his hands in the air.
This is the part I don’t like about emotions. When you start to act irrationally. I remember when Mum tried to treat me like I was normal. And then when I couldn’t react how she wanted, she got upset. And the yelling hurt more than the fact that I wasn’t the daughter she wanted. That’s why she sent me to the hospital. Put the child in the loony bin so you don’t have to deal with it anymore. She’s married with two kids now, and I haven’t even met them. Is Chris going to get rid of me now, too, like Mum?
“I don’t care,” I say quietly. My chest tightens. Well, so much for closing off my emotions. Whenever Chris is around, I’m suddenly very in tune with them. Why? “Why should you care? It doesn’t matter what happens out here because we’re just kids. We can survive this and create lives for ourselves, have families here when we grow up. But it wouldn’t matter. We are but one thread in a blanket. We don’t stand out, we help make it look beautiful.”
Chris stares at me as I talk. His face loses its anger, and after a moment, he smiles at me. “You’re so cute,” he says. “But come on, let’s get you some warm clothes. Put your pants back on, my eyes are starting to wander.”
My face heats up and I move out of the water. I pick my pants up in the sand where I’d left them, and shake my feet off. I pull my pants on and pick up my hoodie. Chris watches me as I tuck the singlet into my jeans and then put my hoodie on. He smiles when I shove my hands into the pockets and raise an eyebrow at him.
“Much better,” he nods.
“Yeah, less for you to see,” I agree.
His face goes a slight shade of pink. “No reminders, please. That was a little awkward,” he admits.
I retreat into myself. “Sorry,” I mumble.
Chris shrugs and chuckles. “That’s okay,” he turns to the fire. “We should go over there and –“
“I don’t want to,” I cut in. a yawn pushes its way through my chest and I quickly cover my mouth as my mouth opens wide, eyes tearing up. I wipe at my eyes and shake off the wave of sleepiness. “I want to find somewhere to sleep.”
Chris bites his lip and looks around at the beach. The carnage from the plane wreck, the huge bon fire, and the slow trickle of people moving away to find a place to sleep. He looks back to me and nods.
“We need to set something up, though,” I add. “For the sunlight. And in case it rains. But it doesn’t smell like it will.”
“Smell?” Chris gives me a curious look.
I shrug. “I can smell when it will rain,” I admit.
“Cool,” he nods and starts looking around again. He spots something and grabs my hand. “Come on, let’s check this out.”
I walk with him, debating the entire time whether to pull my hand out of his or not, until we come to a piece of the plane. It’s almost half the wall, stuck into the sand. It curls over, creating some sort of shelter. Chris starts kicking sand around, and I help him dig a small dip under the curve. That done, I wander off to look for anything we can use to keep warm. I find a singed blanket, a corner black and crusty from the fire, and bring it over. I dump it into the sand and Chris looks at me in confusion.
“It’s all I could find,” I tell him. “You can have it. I have my hoodie.”
I won’t mention that I can’t sleep when it’s cold.
“No,” Chris frowns. “Stay here.”
He disappears, and I sit down in the sand. After a moment, I stand up and set up the blanket. I lay it down flat, and then fold it over, so that part of it you lay on and the other part is for warmth. I then move sand under one end for a pillow, and stand back. I smile at my work and sit down next to the makeshift bed, waiting for Chris to return to show him my resourcefulness. I hear voices coming this way, and Chris returns with two people in tow. It’s the girl that was in the forest before, and the guy that carried Chris to the beach when the monkeys were chasing us. They both have a pile of blankets in their arms.
“Here,” Chris walks over and looks at my bed. I grin at him and he chuckles. The fading light from the fire flickers across his face, making his features stand out more. “I think Blue has a good idea. We can make sand beds.”
“Good idea,” the girl nods, smiling to herself. “I’m Rian, by the way. And this is P.J.”
“Oh,” I’m glad she doesn’t offer her hand, I’d probably freak out. “I’m Saph, but Chris calls me Blue.”
“I know,” P.J. says a little dryly.
“Um, I’m sorry I told you to go to hell the other night,” I say to him. The apology is long overdue, but better late than never, right?
P.J. blinks at me, and then laughs. “That’s where I recognise you!” He exclaims. “Don’t worry about it.”
Chris, Rian and P.J. set up their makeshift beds. I watch them work together, and wish I could have that kind of connection with people. But I never will, because of my mind. And I probably won’t ever be normal. I’m a freak and crazy, and though Chris accepts me for how I am, he’ll never truly want me as a friend because I’m so different.
With the beds set up, and the space starting to warm up from our body heat, the three get comfy. P.J. is on the outside, with Rian next to him. Beside her, slightly diagonally, is Chris, who is grinning at me with a very toothy smile.
“Well, we have our shelter,” he says.
“We do indeed,” I nod.
“Goodnight guys!” P.J. says loudly.
“Night,” Chris and Rian say in chorus, and chuckle at each other.
“Yeah,” I murmur and lie down.
After a while, everyone settles down too. I roll over to see P.J., Rian and Chris all lying down. Chris has his back to me, and I let myself stare. I’ve seen him shirtless, so my imagination doesn’t conjure up something interesting. To be honest, he has a boring body. No tattoos or scars, really. Very toned and muscular, lean and fit looking, which is nice to look at, but just plain, tan skin. Well, except for the huge stitched up gash on his side. I couldn’t stop staring at it. What if it gets infected? But I cleaned it well, and I’ll make sure he looks after it, so that won’t happen. I wonder what the scar will look like. I wonder how Chris feels about having a scar there, even.
As the night grows darker, and the fire blazes, I begin to get restless. Quietly and stealthily, I get up and trot over to the fire. I stand there for a moment, watching the flames lick at the wood and flesh, dancing into the sky. I let myself feel, and tears stream down my face. I curl up in the sand, hands wrapped tightly around my knees, feet digging into the sand, and cry. When I have no more tears to give up, I wipe off my face and go back to our shelter. Chris is sitting up and looks at me with relief when he sees me.
“Are you okay? I was really worried,” Chris whispers as I sit back down on my sand bed.
“I’m okay,” I mumble and lie down.
“Night Blue,” Chris says.
I close my eyes and try to sleep. The cold starts to chew its way through my clothes. I sit up, trying not to growl, and look over at Chris. His eyes are closed and he looks very peaceful. And warm. After chewing up my bottom lip and consequently getting colder, I crawl over to Chris and crawl under the blanket with him. His body heat warms my back instantly and I snuggle against him.
“Blue, what are you doing?” Chris asks, shocked.
“I can’t sleep if it’s cold,” I say. “I don’t mean anything, I just won’t be able to sleep.”
“Okay,” Chris breathes loudly, the warm air tickling my neck.
“I don’t mean anything by this,” I repeat, looking at him over my shoulder. “We’re just friends, so it doesn’t matter. Or aren’t friends allowed to do this?”
“Friends can keep each other warm,” Chris has a smile I don’t recognise on his face. He wraps his arms around me and I shift the sand slightly. “Okay now?” Chris asks.
“Thank you,” I mumble before sleep washes over me.

I remember a plane, and the screaming people. I remember the way my knuckles turned white from squeezing the arm rests too tight, but most of all I remember the
fire…Everything before and after that is a blur.

You know that story about falling in dreams? Supposedly if you don’t wake up before you hit the ground, you’ll die. I didn’t believe all the stories, and it wasn’t until now that I actually experienced a dream like that. It’s eerily strange how it feels so real. Feeling your stomach rise to your chest, and your heartbeat going miles per minute. And then… you hit the ground, and it feels like the world around you is lost. You hear a deafening boom, and then it’s dark and you start slipping into this black hole. That is, until you see a light.

“I must be dead” I thought to myself, and I actually thought I was until I started to notice what was around me. All of a sudden the world transformed. What was once dark and empty is now filled with golden sunlight peering through tree branches, and luscious green foliage all around me. I assumed it was heaven until I noticed the pain. The pain felt like I was miles under water, and the pressure was going to crush me. My body was covered in newly formed bruises, and deep cuts. Then something warm streamed down my face, and with the slightest touch I let out a scream. The pain was agonizing, and when I finally removed my hand I saw the blood. It was everywhere. As the excruciating pain subsided and a softer enduring pain remained, and I began to really see the environment around me.

“Where am I? Why can I not remember anything? Why the hell can’t I remember my own name!? Of all places why this strange place? God what happened?! Is there anybody here?! And if they are will they kill me!?”

As the frightening thoughts began to grow I started to panic. I needed to move, but as soon as I tried to stand my body fought against me. I remember someone once telling me to take slow deep breaths in moments of worry, but when I think of their face it dissolves into a blur. It’s like memories you know you have, but you just can’t remember how to play them out in your head. I started taking deep breathes, and realized I need to devise a plan and soon. First things first I need to stop the bleeding from my head. I rip up most of the sweater I’m wearing and use it to create a bandage around my head. The pain continues to get worse, but I’ll get used to it. It’s better than bleeding to death. Next I need to find help and soon. This sweater was not going to keep the wound clean, or keep it from becoming infected. The sooner I get help the better. The only problem is I need to stand up. I reach for a nearby branch and manage to slowly pull myself up. Then I try to take a step, but my legs wobble and I lose footing. I manage to fall on my arm, but a shearing pain goes through my head.
“Damn it!” I scream.

Tears threat the back of my eyes, but I have to keep going. I grab the branch and try to pull myself up once again. When I finally stand up that’s when I hear it. Screaming. But that means…survivors.

Rian

Before I fell asleep, I noticed Blue cuddled up to Chris. It was sweet, she needed warmth and he was there for her. We need to be able to rely in each other in this time of need. It's only us and this random island we have landed on.

By the time the sun rose up into the sky, everyone was up but me. Chris always let me sleep in cause damn, I was a sleeper. But today I couldn't let myself doze off for too long.

I got up, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands. My back sprung up with pain, I guess sleeping on the ground wasn't the best idea. Chris was already up with Blue by the fire they set up. I guess they were deciding what to do next. PJ was next to me, still sleeping.

"Rian," Blue smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm up. Should I get PJ?" I asked.

Chris shook his head, "He can rest for a few more minutes; come join us."

I pushed myself off the ground and walked over those few inches to join them. The fire made my skin tingle with longing for the warmth.

"So, what's going on? What are we gonna do?" I asked.

Blue looked at Chris and he stared back, as if they were reading each others' minds. Maybe I was intruding. I shifted in my spot, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"We need to get out of here obviously..." Chris started. "But we have to find out how we got here in the first place. We have to know where we are."

"All I know is that this place has no reception." I sighed, thinking longingly about my cellphone that lay useless in my pocket. "And even if we did have reception, it's not like we'd be able to tell someone where we are."

"Google Maps could tell you where you are." Blue responded.

"True, but only if it worked."

"Okay, enough about what doesn't work." Chris interrupted.

The fire cracked as it kept on going. I looked up at the sky, noticing how clear it is, the blue had no clouds. Looking back down, Chris was pulling at the grass, calming his nerves.

"What can we remember? There was a map of where we were flying on board." I mentioned.

"The last thing I remember was being over South america, that's it." PJ spoke up from our right.

The three of us looked over, seeing PJ stretch. He got up and walked over, joining us by the fire.

"There is no strategy for us. We have to go back to where the other survivors are and stick together. If we split apart, we will never be found." he added. "... and we might get eaten alive here, so..."

"Thanks for your positivity Pee Jay," I said, smiling at him.

Chris stood up, pacing around us with his fingers rubbing at his temples. I could tell he was worried, there was not much he could do right now. We were somewhere, alone, with no escape. Blue fidgeted in her spot, trying not to look at Chris. There was something up with the both of them, the tension was just eating at all of us. It made me uncomfortable and I wasn't even in it.

"Maybe we should thoroughly look through the plane, there has to be a radio there. It might still work." I suggested.

"We tried that, almost died, remember?" Chris said, looking at me for a brief moment.

"Well maybe we should go more prepared..." I spat back.

"With what?" He flung his arms in the air. "We have nothing, Rian."

"We can get something. This is pretty much the best idea for now unless you have something else?"

Laughing. Laughing. Laughing filled my head, as I stared down at the trees hundreds of feet below us. It wasn't until turbulence hit did I look away from the window.

I proceeded to wonder why I couldn't hear anything except for the smooth voice of Jack Johnson, but then realized that I had headphones on. As I pulled them off finally, the nasally voice of a flight attendant reassured us about the bumps over the intercom, but I didn't feel any better. Planes scared the heck outta me. I mean, my Great Grandma died from a plane crash. I didn't want to, too. Unfortu-

The plane lunges again, and my hand shoots up to the oxygen masks. I felt like I was about to hyperventilate.

"What's going on? Hey-!" The girl next to me screamed, as I frantically looked out of the window. We were closer to those trees.

Before I could say anything, to the girl, to the teacher, to anyone, the plane was hurling towards water. I tightened my seatbelt, gripped my oxygen mask harder, and closed my eyes as the worst possible scenario's ran through my mind. We were all going to die. Everyone but me would survive. Nobody except me would survive. The wh-

Everything slowed down. Or, it seemed like everything did. My eyes began to droop. I wasn't holding the oxygen mask. Faint screams reached my ears, but I couldn't do anything. The last word that managed to weasel it's way to my range of hearing was, "HELP!"...then everything was black.


Pain. Pain filled my sides, my arms, my legs, head, feet, everything. Pain. I couldn't breathe. Smoke was everywhere. A high-pitched ringing filled my head, screamed at me-- I just wanted it to be quiet. I didn't know what was happening. Was this a dream? No, it wasn't a dream. My Baba did a ritual cleansing of my soul when I was first born, which protects my being from any evil out to penetrate dreams. This was real. It was too real. Too vivid. I try to lift my head, but my neck stings when I try to.

"-ello?" I (attempt) to say, but my voice cracks too much, and I wasn't capable of being very loud.

"HELP!" I close my eyes, and force myself to push up. The amount of pain coursing through my body was overwhelming, but I couldn't just lay here. "SOMEBODY, PLEASE!"

I couldn't help somebody if I needed help myself- right? Right. Wrong. I couldn't think straight enough to be sure. I grabbed onto the closest thing to me to steady myself, which just so happened to be...somebody strapped in their seat, fried. Dead. Not alive. I try to keep the tears from surfacing, but it was too hard. I drop my hand back down to my side, and stumble out of a huge hole in the side of the plane. I couldn't hear anything. My vision was blurred, and dark around the edges, so I couldn't see very well, so I just...ran. Or, wobbled. I wobbled out, and kept going, going, and going until I was in the middle of nowhere.

Trees surrounded me. Black surrounded the trees. Ringing surrounded the black. Nothing surrounded the ringing. I cringe as my leg buckles, and have to assume that I was done walking for now. I drop to my knees, and push through the pain that was occurring everywhere. I continue to pull myself through the rubble until my fingertips touch water. Once I get my body completely in the small puddle, I smother mud on me, over me, on my face, everywhere, then suddenly, my eyes droop. I can't hold them open anymore. Consciousness pulls away from me, and I let it.


Screaming. I hear screaming. I cringe as my eyes flutter open, and sunlight streams through the bunched up trees. Forcing myself to stand, I use the water to wash my the mud from my body, face, then proceed to strip myself of clothes and rinse them in the puddle.

"Hello?" I croak, in hopes of someone, anyone being near. Maybe whoever was screaming had solved their problems and- I shake my head, and look around. I shouldn't have left the sight. I should've found someone to stick with. I...I should've stayed home. Once I ring my clothes of the excess water, I find a place where the sun shines the brightest, lay them out, then begin running my fingers through my thick, tangled curls. There's branches, leaves, and tiny pebbles stuck in it, and I desperately need a hair brush. But that wasn't the most important thing I needed.

I start to wander around-- not exactly caring if there were someone out here, especially since I was bare. This is how I came into the world. Why should I be ashamed of it? Why should I be embarrassed of someone seeing me like this? I shake my head again, and scold myself for thinking of something that wasn't as important as I'd like to think.

Two, maybe three hours pass and the most movement I'd seen was a slick, black, beautiful body moving through the trees. I find my way back to my clothes, shake them off, and dress again.

For a second, I'm convinced that somebody was watching me. You ever have that feeling? I had that feeling. I still have that feeling. But as I look around, pulling my shirt over my head, I see nothing. Nobody. Just trees. Blackness. The ringing from last night was still there, but it seemed to have calmed down. It wasn't as loud as before.

I button my shorts, which are slightly scorched, and begin to soak my hair in the puddle. Once it feels as though all the rubble is out of it, I lift my head up, ring my hair out, and begin observing the cuts, scrapes, burns. Nothing seemed as bad as it felt last night. Except for my leg. The one that buckled. The left leg. My legs were dark, but you could clearly see the contusions surrounding my whole leg. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Touching anywhere near it burned. Made me want to cry.

I was about to attempt to make a crutch out of a large stick I found when a noise came from behind me. As soon as I turn around the best I could, I'm staring into the eyes of a person. A guy. A stranger. Relief fills me as I slump my shoulders and, ignoring the fact that this guy might be here to hurt me or do something I wouldn't approve of, I laugh.

I wasn't alone.

Sunlight bled through my eyelids, and a slight breeze grazed my face. I felt a tug at my fingers. I shifted, feeling someone's back pressed up against my front. My heart jumped and I started, surprised. What the—? I opened my eyes to see her, Blue, her chest rising and falling, the familiar contours of her face. I relaxed. Oh yeah, I remembered, or at least as much as I ever remembered anything.

She moved a little bit after my wriggling around. She didn't wake up, but pulled on my hand again so my arm would fall further around her. Her features furrowed, and she turned into me, her head nestling into my neck, her arms limp around her stomach.

I tried to ignore how her heaving breaths tightened her shirt against her breasts, and the way her long eyelashes tickled my neck. God, this feels wrong. The muscles in my stomach felt tight. I sat up and stood, easing Blue off of me. It was early, and half of the sun peeked above the horizon, reflecting its rippled image over the ocean.

I heard silence and crickets, and that was all. I saw sleeping bodies curled and sprawled in their makeshift tarp shelters and luggage-bag beds, shivering out of their blankets. I dared to look back at Blue, at her body that looked cold and out of place in the sand. It was chilly out, but I was sweating, my body hot all over.

I figured I should put myself to use, and was about to leave the campsite before I heard shuffling behind me. Blue was sitting up, untangling her feet from the blanket. An almost permanent shade of scarlet resided on her face. She tried to avoid my eyes. I don't know how it happened, how somehow we achieved eye contact when both of us were trying not to look at the other.

I felt stupid. I'm Chris Mahoney, infamous QB, and I'm actually caring about a girl. Who gives a damn how she feels about me? And then, Get your shit together, Chris.

But then she was approaching me, her hair swept over her right shoulder, her blue eyes red-rimmed and tired, her nose pale and small like that of a china doll. I was yanking on a T-shirt, and then my jacket. "What?" I ask, my voice deep, addressing her unblinking stare. I threw a glance her way, and tugged the sleeve over my wrist. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and she quickly averted her gaze. She crossed her thin arms and gazed out at the ocean.

I followed her line of sight, wondering what she saw. All I saw was ocean. Goddamn ocean in every direction. Suddenly, she spoke up. "I was thinking we could talk," she offered, stammering slightly. I let out a laugh, a spastic and frenetic one that jumped out of my mouth.

"I don't like talking." About real things, I should have finished with, if I was honest. I don't like talking about real things. Feelings, and like that. I liked talking, I talked too much, but that was endless rants about sports and sports drinks and James Bond. That was pretty much the extent of my conversation.

She didn't respond, sinking to the ground and curling her feet into the sand timidly. "Sorry," she said suddenly, quickly. "About last night. I was just—I can't sleep when I'm cold." She covered her face for a second. It was an adorable gesture. "I mean, I was stupid. You don't even know my middle name, and I just threw you under the bus—"

"You threw me under a bus?" I interrupted, sitting beside her. "That's demoting." She bit her lip, smiling defeatedly. "And I bet I could nail your middle name on a wild guess."

"Okay," She encouraged, blushing.

"Purple," I guessed, after a small time in which I pretended to entertain several possibilities.

"You got me," she stuttered through her laughter. God, I liked it when girls laughed. It was a beautiful thing. I looked up and slapped the sand beside me like drums.

"Told you so." And then, with no pause, "You know what's stupid as hell?"

"What?" She encouraged, still tittering with laughter.

"There's like, a yard and a meter, you get me? And then a centimeter and an inch or whatever? What is it for a foot?" She looked at me, blank expression, maybe wondering what my problem was.

"A tenth of a meter," she finally responded.

I stared at her dumbly for a moment, my mouth half-open. Then I shook my head. "That's not a thing." I'd been wondering about the foot thing for a while.

"Yes it is," she insisted, having forgotten about her humiliation by now. "What are you, the measurement police?" She was grinning at me wildly, shamelessly.

"It's long to say," I told her, ignoring the question, "a tenth of a meter. Tenth of a meter." I dropped the subject suddenly. "I love ketchup," I switched to promptly. She laughed at me, a confident laugh that squeaked between her lips. It gave me some satisfaction. Her laugh continued as I kept talking, straight-faced. "It has so many pros." I counted off on my fingers. Still laughing, laughing. "You can use it on everything. It's healthy because it has tomatoes. I especially like the packets the waitress gives you at restaurants." And then, with no pause, "Wanna go for pizza when we get home?"

She didn't grasp the question at first, and her eyes slowly widened, the breeze blowing her hair across her face, as if she wasn't sure if she should be more shocked about Wanna go for pizza or more perturbed by when we get home. "Pizza?" She got out.

"Yeah," I said, "you know, like pepperoni, or cheese. Or if you're one of those loons who like pineapple."

I could tell she was all speechless. "Pizza?" She asked again.

A dimple flashed in my cheek, and my hands went into my pockets. I bent slightly, my shoulders lowering. "What, are you gonna say no? Chris Mahoney just asked you out, the infamous Chris Mahoney, and you're gonna say no? You're breaking all of my heart." I put my hand over my heart clumsily, dramatically, all five fingers spread apart. I smiled charmingly, like a little boy. She was still looking at me, like she's in love with me, I thought.

Then, Rian came strolling over to us, wearing a purple T-shirt five times her size, her legs bare. She wiped sand from her brow, and started babbling about what we were actually going to do; how we were actually going to get rescued from this god-forsaken island. Blue just looked at me steadily; I could feel her eyes on me. Whenever I caught her eye, she hastily looked away, suppressing a smile.

And then, suddenly, a thought popped into my head. I clapped once, loudly, and jumped on my feet. I couldn't get my words out. "The—ah, the—Goddamn—Christ, the–!" I snapped with both hands and pointed with both forefingers at Rian, my eyes wide and crazed, before turning away after the span of a millisecond, turning back towards her, and then turning around again.

Rian stared at me.

"You're certifiably insane," she deadpanned.

"Radio!" I finally said, clapping. "God almighty! I'm an idiot. The radio!" Rian still didn't understand. I dug into my pocket, through mint wrappers and gum packages and car keys. Finally, I pulled out the transceiver that I had retrieved at the crash site of the cockpit, before everything had gone haywire. Peej had just arrived, and his mouth fell agape.

"You have it?" Rian stammered after her initial shock, plucking the radio from my hands. "Chris, you jerk!" Rian started to futz with random buttons. "I can't believe you!" She continued.

I frowned. "Must've been my STML."

Rian snorted. "Yeah, whatever." I looked over her shoulder.

"Here, let me try," I said, trying to take the radio. She pulled it away, looking back at me.

"Oh, are you a pilot too?" She quipped. Then she rolled her eyes. "You couldn't even remember you had the damn thing." She happily allowed P.J. to take the radio, who also had no idea how to work it. A crowd of onlookers had began to gather around the scene, muttering amongst one another excitedly.

Questions rippled through the group of survivors that had circled around us. How did you get a radio? Where did you find the radio? Does it work? Why didn't you tell anybody? What's going on? The mob began to hum angrily like a bees' nest that had been poked at one too many times. They wanted answers. They wanted to be told what to do.

"Yo!" I tried. "Everybody calm down!"

"When are we gonna get rescued?" Someone interrupted from the back of the crowd.

"Why haven't they found us already?" I heard someone else pipe up from the left. A girl's voice. "The plane had a black box."

"We're out of water!" Somebody else chimed in. This sent another wave of resentment through our accumulating audience.

P.J. was still fiddling with the radio. One guy, red-faced, pointed at him, spitting, "Nobody even knows how to work that!"

I thought about it for a second, how I had assumed something of a leadership position. How easy it would be to let these freaks worry themselves or battle each other to the death. I thought of how it used to be with Lou and I, how sometimes after lunch senior year, we would sit in the auditorium and watch the band practice just for laughs, and play air trumpets to the Final Countdown, admittedly better than the geeks with the real trumpets ever did. I thought about a lot of things, like my mom (only briefly), like the girl I'd broken up with just before I left, Jenna, the one who told me she didn't understand my sports metaphors, the one I'd slept with once, which on afterthought was the same amount of times I'd slept with Blue.

I thought of the time when my mom took me to church when I was a kid, like she did every Sunday. She looked down at my feet and scolded, The Lord doesn't appreciate when you wear your cleats on his floor. I had looked at her exasperatedly. If the Lord knew that I had a football game in an hour, I'm sure he'd forgive me, I had responded. I thought about the one time in the huddle when Craig Jamison had poured Elmer's glue all over his hands and insisted that God had told him to cheat. Would God do that? I remember wondering. If God made football, than why would he give Craig Jamison Elmer's glue and insist that he pour it on his hands? How do you know when God tells you something? Is there some kind of code? Does God want me to know things, and I just don't get it? I thought of everything, like everyone here, like Blue and how she seemed entirely enamored of me, like Rian and the secret I never told her about The Wizard of Oz.

I thought more than I'd ever thought in my life. I stood there stoically, watching Rian but not seeing her, knowing Blue was next to me but not hearing her move, listening to the other people arguing about the things they couldn't fix, but not fixing them, not even trying.

I squinted in the sun for a moment, a puzzled look on my face.

And then something caught my eye over by the edge of the jungle, where we'd put the quote-on-quote medical station (a tent with supplies and a few blankets inside). I jogged towards it, away from the crowd.

"Hey, where are you going?" I heard a boy shout after me. I looked back over my shoulder. He was a little younger than me, and was wearing tweed shorts cinched at the waist. He was wearing no shirt. "You're the leader, aren't you?" He asked me.

I stared at him dumbly, running through the possible responses—Disavowal: You must be thinking of someone else. Annoyance: Screw off. Sarcasm: Where the fuck am I gonna go?—before saying, "Chill out, Emmett. I'll be back with your instructions." I gave him a lazy salute, and then turned back around.

The object caught my eye again. I bent down and picked it up, squeezing it in my hand. It was a mango. I looked around for the tree from which it must have fallen. I didn't see any, but I knew that there must be one or two close by.

Before anyone saw it, I stuffed it under my jacket, and began to walk towards the ocean, the waves coming up to meet me on the shore. I sat down next to him; the boy that I'd noticed sitting here alone everyday. He was wearing a blue striped shirt that hung over his shoulders, and he leaned forward on his knees, staring into nowhere. His ankles were all but submerged in the water when the tide came in. There was a look on his face that I couldn't quite place.

He flinched when I hit the ground, my knees bent. He followed my sneakers up to my face. I didn't look at him, afraid that he'd tell me I was a coward for crying, or worse, he'd ask me all about it. I removed the fruit from my jacket quickly, and put it in his hands. He stared at it, like an egg that might hatch, and then he squeezed it tight, his fingernails almost breaking the skin.

I didn't say anything, and silence swept the both of us.

"Hey," I suddenly heard from behind me—a girl's voice, loud and trying to get my attention. "Hey," she said again, "Hey, you." I turned, looking over my shoulder. The boy—Quentin, I guess his name was—looked with me.

I stood to my feet when I saw who it was; the girl with disheveled hair, blistering sunburn and the ripped shirt. The one who'd tried to beat up my ass for no good reason. She was wearing the same clothes as she had been yesterday, and her face was marked with dirt.

She looked right at me, into my eyes, and said, "I need your help."

Saph
The crowd of people is starting to freak me out. And the fact that Chris has run off makes it harder. I don’t know anyone. I feel uncomfortable now. I want to go home. I want to see my home. I don’t want to stay here, I don’t want to die out here, without telling my Mum that I’m sorry, that I love her, and that I wish I could be different for her.
Moving back through the throng of people trying to get to the radio – I’m wishing I’d done stayed in cadets to learn how to use a radio now – I move towards the ocean. But I trip in the sand and fall backwards. I groan and shake my head. My eyes lift and I’m staring straight at the forest. Of course! How could I be so forgetful? I did cadets, and I know how to distinguish edible food from poisonous food. I have a knife, and I already know I can fight off the monkeys. Well, until I get tired and I have stitches … but that’s beside the point. Plus I don’t have to be around people, and I can be free!
Standing up, I trot off toward the forest, making sure no one notices me slip away. As I near the tall trees, I glance across the beach and see a girl with ragged clothes talking to Chris and the small boy. I pause in my stride and wonder if I should go over and offer them my help. But then I think about it. Chris has been acting strange this morning, as though he’s been trying to avoid me. Maybe he won’t want me to go over there and be around him some more. And I thought I could make a friend, but I guess I’m a little too weird for him.
Shaking my head to clear it of everything, I slip into the forest. Eventually the smell of salt and the sound of the ocean behind me fades out. I can hear the chitters and warbles of creatures as they dart through the canopy and leaf litter on the ground. I hear the occasional whoop as a larger animal calls out. I hear a low moaning growl, and pause. That must be the panther that saved me from the monkey yesterday. Oh wow, we’ve only been here for three days. And so much has happened in those three days.
Deciding that the panther’s call was too far away to pose a threat, I keep walking. As I get deeper into the forest, I start to recognise some of the plants and creatures. The ones I’m noticing the most are lemurs. I know we’re not on Madagascar, because we’d gone over Africa … hadn’t we? I keep one eye on the lemurs as they chatter amongst themselves high in the treetops. The further in I go, the more creatures begin to stir. Some of them are things I didn’t even know existed. I pause when a flash of bright yellow catches my eyes, and I look down and gasp.
The creature is small, probably smaller than my hand, with a triangular shaped head and a round body, like a hedgehog. Yet this small creature has black and bright yellow patches on its body, with a huge fan of yellow spines around its face. I stare at it in silent awe as the small creature snuffles through the leaf litter at my feet. I slowly bend down and the creature pauses. I hold my hand out and it’s long, slender nose wriggles as it gets my scent. I giggle as it moves closer to my finger and starts to lick it.
“Oh my gosh you’re so cute!” I gush. The small creature jumps at my voice, but continues to like my finger. “I wish I knew what you are!”
Now that I’m this low to the ground, I can see more of the wildlife that has been hidden by the thick foliage of the plants and ferns growing on the ground. I see a long, thick snake with brown and black markings slither through the muck, twisting around a tree as it climbs. I see a lizard leap from leaf to leaf as it chases some sort of insect. A few lemurs dart through the undergrowth, and I spot a small creature that looks like a fox, except with tawny fur and black spots running down its back. The creature turns to me and we lock eyes for a moment before it darts off. I wonder why none of the creatures are afraid of me. Maybe they’ve never seen a human before. Or maybe I smell like the forest and the beach.
The yellow hedgehog is now climbing onto my hand, so I decide to pick it up and place it on my shoulder. The creature trundles to my hair and snuffles through it. I giggle as its feet tickle my skin. I continue walking through the forest, looking out for any more unusual animals. I spot a bird with a long, crazy tail. It has a sort of yip-yip call as it prances about in the leaves. Another bird with dull feathers and a shorter tail watches. Must be the female watching the male do the mating dance. Cool!
I leave the birds to it and walk around a clump of trees. The air gets colder, and I shiver. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge as goose bumps form on my bare skin. I push through some large, palm-like leaves and stop in my tracks. I’ve entered a clearing, but the clearing isn’t empty. There are probably three or four circles of huts in the clearing. In the very centre of the rings is a huge black space on the ground. A few of the huts nearest look mouldy and one of the rooves has caved in. I take a tentative step forward, but the only sounds are the clicking and chirping of the forest around me. Walking through the first ring of huts, I see that they are round, made of mud and rocks stacked on top of each other. The rooves are thatched, and look like they’re made of some sort of grass. The walls, however, are mouldy and crumbling away, and the rooves are patchy at best, some completely caved in. All the huts in the clearing are like this. And the large black space on the ground is where there must have been a fire, the scar on the dirt very deep.
Snuffling sounds near my ear remind me I have a yellow hedgehog on my shoulder. I reach up and pick the little guy up, careful not to squish him and prick myself on his spines. The yellow hedgehog curls up in my hand and I watch him with a look of pure glee on my face as he opens back up and looks at me with tiny, brown eyes.
“I’m calling you … wait a minute,” I remember reading about creatures like this from Madagascar. Tenrecs! “I’m calling you Tenrec, because that’s what you are.”
Tenrec doesn’t respond. I place him on the ground and look around. Tenrec trundles over to my feet and sits on my foot. I’d taken my boots off last night and haven’t put them back on, so I’m trying very hard not to kick my foot out, Tenrec’s tiny feet tickling mine. I bend down and pick him up, putting him back on my shoulder. He trundles over to my hair and curls up. I gush at how adorable he is, and start looking around again. The clearing isn’t natural, although the plants are trying to take over the flat ground. I notice the start of a path and walk over to it.
The path leads straight into the forest, through even thicker vegetation. I pull my knife out and start pushing my way through the undergrowth. Birds skitter away from my feet as I trudge through the thick, decaying leafy floor, and I duck and dodge spider webs larger than me. Flying insects of all kinds spring away when disturbed, and I listen as hooved creatures dart away. Finally, after trudging through bad smelling muck, the trail fans out into another clearing, this time natural. My eyes widen and a huge grin spreads across my face. A decaying jetty stands over a huge pool of water. I slide through the mud and trot over the rotting wood of the jetty to peer into the water. It’s crystal clear, with large, patched fish swimming in the depths. Weeds grow out of the pale sand at the bottom, and I catch a glimpse of another, large creature swimming between a green log at the bottom of the pool. I look around the bank of the pool and realise that there are stations for collecting water. Beside me are some wooden bowls, melded together from years of exposure. I peel one from the stack and place Tenrec in the others. Hooking my feet into the spaces of the jetty, I lower myself down to the water and wash the bowl out. When it’s reasonably clean, I lift the bowl to my lips and take a sip. The water is cool and tastes delicious. I finish the contents and sit up.
My eyes land on a creature that takes my breath away. It doesn’t stand that tall, but it has a feline body, and face, except for the giant, bulbous nose. It reminds me of a puma cross dog. Its fur is tawny and it has large brown eyes that watch me with curiosity. I slowly reach for Tenrec and replace him on my shoulder. The creature on the bank watches, unmoving, blinking slowly. I push myself to my feet in the least threatening way possible, and still the creature doesn’t move. I back away down the jetty and onto the bank. The creature watches me curiously as I walk around the pool bank and come to stand beside it. After looking me up and down, the creature flashes its teeth at me before turning around to walk back into the forest. I follow it as it slinks through the undergrowth. It stops at a stream to drink, and I do the same. The creature trots on, and I follow, matching its pace. It comes to another clearing and sits down beside a bush almost weighed to the ground with bright blue berries. Looking around the clearing I notice that there are all kinds of fruits on bushes. I see strawberries, and strange fruit resembling pineapples, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, gooseberries, and a whole range of other things I haven’t seen before. I look back at the creature as it watches me.
Walking over to the bush of blue berries, I pick a handful and hold them out to the creature. It sniffs them and licks my fingers. I pick one of the berries up and place it in my mouth. I chew on the large berry and a weird flavour bursts across my tongue. I wince at the bitter-sweet taste, and offer the rest of the berries to the tawny creature. As it delicately takes the berries from my hand, a word comes to mind. Fossa. This creature is a fossa, from Madagascar also. The only creature that aren’t from Madagascar are the monkeys, and the panther. Plus the other tracks I saw … oh, unless they’re fossa tracks.
I spend the next few hours testing the berries. If they’re safe to eat, the fossa will lick my fingers. If they’re not, she’ll growl and nip them. I hate finding poisonous berries, because the fossa’s teeth are really sharp. When the fossa isn’t looking, I pass a few of the smallest berries up to Tenrec on my shoulder, who nibbles on them appreciatively. Finally, when all the berry bushes have been tested, and my fingers have bite marks all over them, the fossa – who also needs a name – makes a strange sound and darts off. I follow at a slow jog, wondering if the people that made those huts and built the jetty trained this fossa.
She leads me down the stream until the forest clears out and I’m left staring at the beach again. Except instead of plane pieces and kids walking around, I see half a boat half out of the waves, and the stream connecting to the ocean. The fossa sits down on the edge of the forest, and I creep out into the midday sun. I hadn’t realised how much time had passed, although I guess I have been gone for a while. The tide is out, too, so I should take full advantage of this.
Running down the beach to the boat ruins, I scavenge through to look for anything useful. I find a few metal bowls and some cutlery, but any sort of material has long since rotted away. I do, however, find an airtight container full of clothes. Squealing with glee, I search through and find a very nice looking hoodie, some cargo pants, and a form-hugging short sleeve T-shirt. I exchange those clothes for the ones I’m wearing, and look around for anything I can use to carry things back to everyone. I find a large crate and some ropes, and loop them through the holes. I then throw the container of clothes in, and anything else that could be useful. I then grab some more metal containers and carry them, one by one, into the forest. I go back onto the beach and drag the large crate through the sand to the forest. I leave it there and go back into the forest. I spend the next who knows how long filling the containers full of berries. When I’m done I haul each container back to the crate and stack them inside. Standing back to assess my resourcefulness, I smile to myself and pick up the rope. It takes a lot of effort and all my strength to move the crate a millimetre.
Growling, I decide that it may take a few people to help pull this thing back. I look at the fossa – maybe I should just call her Fossa – and she just blinks at me. Shrugging, I put the rope over my shoulder, brace my entire body, and throw all my weight into the rope. The crate moves a centimetre. I can do this. It might take a long time, but I can do it. I glance at the sky to find that it’s now the afternoon, and the sun is close to setting. No sleep for the working people, huh? Well, at least we’ll have a good supply of food.
I continue to pull with all my strength, barely moving the crate. When the sand builds up too much, I shovel it away, and start to push it. It’s gonna be a very long night.

Charley

"Survivors..." I whisper. I'm not the only one. Thank God. Right now the pain is the only thing that stops me from sprinting head on. At this point I have nothing to lose. Either way I am going to die if I don't find some help soon. I have to take my chances and hope that they are on my side. The screaming didn't seem too far off. So I attempt to take a few steps, but once again my legs tremble. I have to keep going. I have to no matter what happens. Suddenly the world around me becomes unclear as the pain makes my head spin, but I don't care as I push through. Maybe someone will hear me if I yell.

"Help!...Help!...Please help me!" I sigh as I realize yelling makes the pain worse, and it doesn't matter anyway because my throat is raw and my yelling doesn't travel very far. I have a long journey ahead of me. My damn head. If it wasn't for it, I would be there by now most likely.

"Think about something else. Anything." I tell myself, but I don't remember anything. I end up thinking about the life I could have had before the accident. Its strange how you can forget about your own life, but still remember things that could have happened. I remember how to do things, how to say things, I remember what school is and what TV is, but I cant remember the in between. I cant remember the people or the places, and that's really scary.

With every step I take, I have no clue what lies ahead of me. After a while I realize I have made some distance. The beach is up ahead, and I know that because I can hear the ocean. The moment my feet reach the sand I look around. Someone is walking with their head down towards me, and angrily at that. It was like they had just gotten in a fight. I stepped in front of them, and they stared at me shocked.
"Please...help me." I whispered, and then the pain overpowered me. The last thing I saw was the stranger running towards me to catch me. Then once again the world went black.