Young Writers Society

Day 4.

The radio was dead.

That's what Tweed Shorts said, at least. He said his dad was a communications officer in the army, and knew everything there was to know about radio transmissions and such. That just about did it for everybody, when that proclamation came around; "the radio's dead" might as well have meant "we're trapped here in hell forever".

We were all fried. We were tired, dehydrated, and hungry. Since people had started hearing about what happened in the jungle with the monkeys, nobody had been eager to go inland for water, shelter, or anything else.

Part of me wondered when people were going to start going insane. Clearly, the girl with the ripped top had already bought her way into the mental institution. After she'd asked me to help her with God knows what, she'd run off into the jungle. Just turned around, and booked it for the trees like a wide receiver on a post run. Either she was crazy, or she wanted me to follow her. Hell, I wasn't going to fall for that. Next thing I know, she'd go on automatic ninja-ambush attack and hit me over the head with a light saber.

I was filling a backpack with empty water bottles when Tweed Shorts walked up to me, his own backpack slung over his shoulder. "Hey," he said assertively, and then, sticking his hand out to shake, "Brayden Summers."

I shook his hand firmly, taken aback by the introduction. "Mahoney," I said, "Chris Mahoney." His hand was tan, a scar over his thumb. He was unnaturally skinny, and he was shirtless like when I had seen him yesterday, his wiry frame bent over as he looked me in the eye. I stood up. I was at least three inches taller than him.

"What are you, agent double-oh-eight?" He asked, laughing. I glanced up at him from my backpack, suddenly on alert, like a flag was thrown up in my head.

I squinted at him, grinning. "James Bond fan?"

Tweed Shorts—Brayden Summers—shook his head, smiling. "Not a fan, particularly. I'm more of an Indiana Jones guy, myself."

"So was my friend," I told him, expressionless, zipping up my bag.

"Oh yeah?" He asked. "Well, when we get off this shithole island, I'll have to meet him."

I stared at the bag in my hands, silent.

"Yeah, maybe," I said finally.

Summers didn't catch the lack of confidence in my voice. "So where're you going?" He asked, making an empty gesture to my bag.

"On a hike," I told him. "Water's not gonna find itself."

"You should be more prepared, bro," he said. "Based on what I heard about the last time one of you guys hiked into the jungle, you should bring some medical supplies, maybe a flashlight just in case you get caught out after dark. A knife."

I looked at him, a little surprised at his arrogance. "Since when do you call the shots, bro?"

"Since when do you?" He asked, staring at me.

My eyebrows raised, and then I dropped them. I nodded, and then clapped Summers on the back. "Right, well, I'll get the medical supplies, you get the flashlight."

He paused, as if he was expecting me to sock him in the jaw instead of get down to business. Then he nodded affirmatively. "And the knife," he added.

Without further conversation, I headed to the Medical Station, and ducked inside the blue tent. I saw a few plastic bags, and jounced over to them, stepping over an array of blankets. I figured that I should keep all of the supplies together so they're easy to get to. I found some gauze and stuffed it into one of the bags. My eyes glanced around for other things they might keep in a first-aid kit.

I was grabbing some antibiotics that had come from the plane's medical kit when I heard footsteps outside the tent. I glanced outside to see Blue emerging from the forest. She had this rat thing on her shoulder, and was dragging some kind of crate behind her. "Yo!" I called, so she knew I was there, and then I ducked back into the tent, searching for bandages.

She approached the tent, looking exhausted and excited.

"Hey," I told her, putting some kind of antibacterial gel in the bag. "Haven't seen you since yesterday. Looks like you had a religious experience." My eyes glanced from my bag to the rat on her shoulder. "Jesus Christ, what is that thing?"

Her cheeks were flushed. "Oh, him? He's a—"

"Can you grab me those?" I pointed to some bandages across the tent, and started ripping some elastic from a pair of shorts that had been laying in the pile of extra clothes in the corner.

Blue looked overwhelmed. "Chris, I found—"

"Summers!" I called from the tent. "Sorry," I said to Blue. "Summers!" I called again. "Get those for me, will you?" I asked Blue. Summers was jogging up to the tent, zipping his backpack.

"I got the flashlight," he said, out of breath. "No knife."

I handled the pocket knife that had been buried under one of the unclaimed suitcases. I popped the knife out, and then pushed it back in. I tossed it up and caught it. "Accounted for," I told him. I cut the elastic from the shorts. "Get me those bandages?" I asked him.

Blue was still standing in the entrance of the tent. Frustration bubbled up inside of me. She was in the way, and she wasn't doing anything useful. I stepped past her roughly to get the bandages from Summers.

"Chris—," Blue started.

"What do you need?" I asked her, tying the elastic around the neck of the bag, and then tying the bag to my backpack.

"I found water."

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. "What? What do you mean? Where?" Summers and I stared at her in disbelief.

Blue pointed in the jungle, finally glad to be listened to. "A ways into the jungle. Probably a day's hike. There're water filtering systems. And berries, and abandoned huts, like people used to live here. There're clean clothes. There's everything we need out there."

"Do you think there are other people on the island?" Summers asked excitedly. Blue shrugged.

"I doubt it. Some of the houses were collapsed. Everything looked old and vacant."

"Were there phones? Or any kind of radio tower?" I quizzed her.

Her face got red. "I don't—no, I don't think so. I wasn't there for long. I wanted to get back to tell everyone what I found."

I started tying the elastic again, quickly. I strapped my backpack over both shoulders. "We gotta go," I said. "We gotta check it out."

Summers immediately agreed. "Good idea. If we go now, we should get back before sundown." He started marching off.

"Hold up, George of the Jungle," I said, grabbing his arm. "Blue's the only one who knows where the hell this place is. She oughtta lead."

Blue looked confused. "We're going now? Shouldn't we tell the others what I found? I just got back."

I exhaled. "Telling the others'll only get them more worked up about nothing. Once we know what's what with this whole little place you found, then we can worry about telling the others." Ideas were running through my head, the main one being the huts that Blue said were there. I wondered if they were suitable to live in. I wanted to see them. "We're leaving now," I told her.

"It's a far walk," she said.

I cued Summers, and he began walking towards the jungle. I followed, leaving Blue no choice. She abandoned the box she'd been toting around and jogged to catch up with us.

"I don't remember exactly where it is," she said. "What if we get lost?"

"I thought you said you were good at navigating unknown terrain?" I said. I was met with silence. She stared down at the rat thing, which she was holding in her hands, her head sinking downwards. We stopped at the edge of the jungle. "After you," I told her, sweeping my arms out to the side.

She didn't think it was funny, I guess.

We walked for a while in silence. We were trekking along for about an hour before Blue sat down against a tree, looking worn out. Summers and I kind of stood around awkwardly, shouldering our packs.

"Can I see the knife?" Summers finally asked me, breaking the silence. I took it out of my pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it with his left hand and began to examine it.

"Lefty?" I asked him.

"Ambidextrous," he said, playing with the knife.

I kind of laughed. Summers glanced up at me. "That's not a word," I said.

"Yeah," Summers said, looking at me like I had three heads, all on fire. "It is. When you're right-handed and left-handed."

"Oh," I said, scratching my head. "Sounds like one of those things doctors say. Like," I put on a deep, measured voice, "'He broke his left femur and ambidextrous'."

"You ever break your ambidextrous?" Summers asked.

"Once," I told him. "Six years old. Tricycle accident."

"Damn tricycles," Summers chided.

"We should go," Blue said timidly, standing up slowly. She was still holding that animal. I was starting to wonder if it was even real, the way it just sat there in her hand. "We're almost there," she added.

We started walking again. "How much longer?" I asked.

"A few minutes," she said.

I walked up right behind her. "You think you could make me that peanut butter sandwich when we get there?" I whispered in her ear. She stiffened when she realized I was so close. She didn't respond, seeming upset.

"Hey," I said, backing up. "You mad?" I kind of laughed. "Well, you know, nobody can stay mad at Chris Mahoney for long."

"Why's that?" She asked, after a moment.

I gave her the most boyishly cute smile I had in my arsenal.

"I think we're here," Summers said, sounding surprised, looking up ahead. I followed his line of sight.

There was a giant clearing ahead. Inside was a circle of mud huts, many collapsed and crumbling, but looking ahead, possibly salvageable. Inside the circle was an old fire pit, I realized as we got closer. It looked like an old village, the way the cobblestone walks were torn up at the edges, and the well by the lake was overrun by ivy. The lake itself was calm and glimmering in the near dusk, and emptied into a river near the opposite edge of the clearing.

As my eyes took everything in, I caught sight of a cat-like animal moving towards us. "Stay back," I said in a stage whisper, realizing I had given Summers the knife.

The cat growled. "No, it's okay!" Blue said to us, beckoning the animal closer. Jesus, she was going to get herself killed. "It's a fossa," she continued, as if I would know what the hell that was supposed to mean. The she turned to us. "Have you ever watched Madagascar? The movie?" He cat had started to lick her fingers.

Summers and I exchanged a glance. "I can't say that I have, no," Summers said. I shook my head.

"Does it have hot girls that crash on islands and then get eaten by big cats?" I asked. "Maybe I oughtta watch it."

"That's what I was thinking," Summers agreed, nodding.

Just then, a clatter sounded from inside one of the huts. I dashed over to the wall of the hut, put my back to it secret-agent style, and peered inside. Some wooden cookware was spread out on the floor, and there was what looked like a cot in one corner, tipped on its side.

I walked inside and over to the makeshift window. People must have lived here once. I wondered how long ago, and if they were still here. I figured there should be some investigation for this, like in the movies. I remembered bits and pieces of movie lines; The tracks are still hot, The date on this envelope stamp is only 1987, etc. and so forth. There were tons of tracks on the floor, but it was hard to tell whether they belonged to animals or people. Plus, they all felt of medium temperature to me. There were no envelopes, or paper of any sort. There were no phones. The most I really found was one dented can of beans, which I stuffed in my pack. I looked around the hut for awhile before I headed out.

Blue and Summers hadn't followed me in, and were both outside. Blue was showing Summers which berries were okay for eating. I bent down next to the pond and start filling bottles with water.

Once I was finished, I wandered back over to the edge of the clearing, where the other two were waiting. It was late in the afternoon, and our daylight was slowly waning away.

"We might be able to follow the river back to the beach," Summers said, pointing to where the river branched off from the lake. "I heard some running water a while back. That way, worst case, we can just follow the river back here."

"Why don't we just go back the way we came?" Blue asked.

"Because," Summers replied, "it's getting dark. We might get lost. It's easier to have something to follow than to rely on our memory." I hear that noise, I thought.

Blue still didn't look convinced, but we started off along the river.

"I think we should try to convince the others to live here," I said. "It would take too long to bring resources back and forth."

"They're never gonna go for that," Summers told me. "After that little incident you guys had with the monkeys?" Blue tensed up immediately at the word. "Besides," he said, "leaving the beach means giving up any hope for rescue. If a plane or boat goes past, and I'm not there to see it, I'll be pissed."

I shook my head, stubborn. "We're no safer at the beach than we are in the jungle. If we keep waiting for rescue on the beach, than we're gonna die waiting for rescue on the beach. Plus, I'd take getting eaten over starving to death any day."

Summers shrugged. "When you put it like that, both seem like suicide."

None of us talked for a good hour and a half. It had gone from twilight to complete darkness, the trees blending into one another, the sky going from blue to purple to black. We had to take long strides to avoid tripping over the underbrush. Summers was leading the way with the flashlight, Blue following behind, me bringing up the rear.

We could barely see one another. The only sounds besides our footsteps were the rustling of the trees, the quiet rush of the river water, and the hum of the wildlife. I couldn't see a thing. It felt like we'd been walking for over three hours before Blue said, "We should cross over here. The river isn't leading us back to the beach."

Her voice was quiet but penetrated the silence.

"Just a little longer," Summers insisted. So we kept walking a little longer.

Suddenly, Blue stopped in her tracks. I stopped with her, because I heard it, too. The rustling of leaves, the ground giving, a fourth pair of footsteps following behind us. Thud. Thud. Thud. The footsteps stopped when we did.

"Did you guys here that?" I asked them quietly, more curious than anxious.

"No," Summers said, but then, "Let's keep moving."

We kept moving.

I felt blind in the darkness. My backpack was heavy. It felt like I was carrying a bunch of rocks on my back. I tripped over a tree root. "Shit," I mumbled.

"You okay?" Blue whispered as my arm jostled hers accidentally.

"Yep," I said. "Never better."

I started to hear them again, the footsteps, right behind me. Thud. Thud. Thud. A branch snapped behind me. I stopped.

I turned and looked behind me. "Give me that," I muttered, taking the flashlight from Summers's hand and shining it behind me.

"Yo, we got a shotgun," I said loudly. "Come out or get your ass whipped."

No answer. No sound.

"Come on, man," Summers insisted. "Nobody's there." He held his hand out for the flashlight. I kept my eyes trained for movement. Come on, I know you're out there. But there was nothing.

I slapped the flashlight back into his hand. We kept walking. The water started getting louder until it was rushing in our ears. We must have been near some main water source.

"We should cross now!" Blue yelled over the rushing water. Summers finally nodded. "Before it's too late!"

Summers illuminated the creek with his flashlight. It was much wider than it had been before; about ten yards across. The water was moving fast, gushing under and over a dead tree that had fallen across the passage. The trunk wasn't too thin; it was at least a foot or two widthwise. "We can cross here!" I shouted, pointing to the tree.

"I'll go first," Summers said to me, and I had to read his lips. He used my shoulder for balance as he stepped onto the log, testing its weight. He let go of me and gave me the thumbs up, starting to walk across.

He took about two steps per ten seconds, putting his arms out to balance his weight. The beam of the flashlight shook as he sidled across unsteadily. I felt a droplet fall across my face. It started to rain, hard, and the water was moving at an even higher velocity. "Hey!" I barked at Summers. "Come back! The water's—"

Where Summers was standing, the water leapt above the log and above his feet. Summers was caught off balance. His feet were swept out from under him, and he would have been carried under by the current if his leg hadn't caught between two of the branches. His leg pulled against the current, as his upper half was yanked downstream, trying to separate itself from his leg.

Adrenaline kicked in, and I dropped my backpack and ran out onto the log, trying to step carefully. Summers was screaming bloody murder, his head flying under water and then above. Summers must have dropped the flashlight in the water. I couldn't see a thing.

Summers's torso looked like a flag flapping in a strong wind, whipping back and forth in the current. "Summers!" I yelled, as I flung myself down onto the tree trunk, kneeling and gripping the sides as hard as I could. "Grab my hand!" I yelled. I heard something snap and then tear; a pop and then a bloody, squishy sound. I couldn't hear his screams anymore; they were drowned in the river and the rain.

I was soaked, water pouring down my face. I could hardly breathe. I could feel my hands slipping. I knew that one hand in the water could send me overboard. My face had ended up next to his leg. Once my eyes adjusted, I could see it; his leg straining, tearing apart below the kneecap.

"Hold on!" I screamed, and tried to grab at his shirt when he came above the water. His hands flailed, trying to grab hold of me. He caught the branch between his legs, his head above the water for a little more than a second. I lunged for it, my hand grasping his before it slipped away.

He was crying, Summers was; I could see him choking when he broke the surface. He let out a shriek as his leg tore, the bone of his shin poking out below his knee. I couldn't see, but our hands felt sticky with blood.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Blue trying to come out onto the log, bearing her knife in one hand. She was screaming something to me. I had no idea what. "Get back!" I screamed at her, my voice breaking above the noise. "Get the hell back!" The severity of my voice must have startled her. But she started to come again, placing her foot on the tree.

"Don't you dare come out here!" I yelled, as loud as I could. She took a step back.

I took a deep breath, and exhaled a grunt as I tried yanking Summers's arm up, grabbing at his shirt, anything for leverage. He was screaming again, and I was falling, my shoulder hitting the water. I gasped as my head went under. For a second everything was silent; nothing but water and darkness.

Then I came back up, spitting water, almost losing my grip on Summers. My fingers and forearms strained and shook. I got myself up straight on the log again.

Summers's leg was almost to shreds; I could tell by the way his body swung further back and forth, and how it took longer for him to come back up from being thrown under the water. I grabbed his full arm and heaved upwards, finally uprooting his body from the river. I pulled him on top of me.

It was still raining, and Summers whimpered. I put his arm around my shoulder and dragged him across, knowing every step could collapse the plank.

I dropped him on the ground, my whole body shaking. I bent down over him. His leg was almost completely separated below the knee. I was freaking out. I had no medical experience. We were helplessly lost in the middle of the jungle, in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, he stopped whimpering and grabbed the neck of my shirt, his fist tight. "Thanks for trying," he told me, his whole body shaking.

"No," I said, breathing hard, shaking my head. "Summers, you jackass, don't even think about it, you don't even think about it, you stay with me, you understand?"

Summers looked right into my eyes, gripping my shirt tighter. He tried to say something; his mouth moved, but nothing came out. His fist fell from my shirt and his eyes were stuck, lifeless, his body limp and somewhere different.

Summers was dead.

I stood up, and for a second I did nothing at all, I just stood there, dripping in the rain. Then I screamed, grabbing things and throwing them into the water. "God dammit!" I yelled. "Jesus Christ, what did I do? What the hell did I do?" I grabbed Summers's backpack and hauled it into the river. Sticks, river, branches, river, rocks, river, dirt, all into the river. Blue was crying, so hard she was shaking, her hands over her face.

I started hearing the footsteps again. Thud. Thud. I didn't stop, yelling, indiscernible words, incoherent sentences, things jumbled in my mouth, all about God and how He screwed us over. The footsteps came closer, and now it was different, tap tap tap, coming closer, running.

I stopped, my back against a tree, and Blue was holding my face in her hands, and the brush was rustling, the river rushing by, and the tap tap tap was louder.

A shadow appeared behind Blue. The sound of the footsteps had disappeared.

Silence.

Her scream was sudden and loud, and I hardly saw a silhouette move as her hands were ripped from my face. I swung blindly, but my open fist only cut across the air. The scuffle was quick, and I couldn't see a thing.

In only five seconds, her scream was cut short. I looked around, panicking. I didn't see her anywhere. My eyes darted around. I saw a shadow whisk through the trees, as if with the breeze.

I picked up a branch from the ground, my breaths shaking, and slowly turned around in a circle. "Where are you, you son of a bitch," I said, my voice wavering.

And then something solid came down upon my head, and I was out cold.

"Any drinks for you, madam?" the flight attendant asked some girl at the back of the plane. I took a look out the window – nothing but endless blue, and the slightest of curves at the far horizon. Well, there was the back of the plane wing, and the jets that propelled it forward, but who would want to stare at that for ten hours?

I turned to the inside and scanned the cabin. A few napping passengers, two boys chatting behind me, a couple of cute girls glancing around like they were bored.

My eyes met with one. She wore a white V-neck shirt, a shiny ring on her finger, and how on Earth did she put those jeans on? Could she even walk in those? I gave her a little smile, but she just rolled her eyes and looked away. But it was good, because if I were invisible, she never even would have looked at me in the first place.

"Peanuts or pretzels, sir?" the flight attendant was right behind me. "Sorry, but we're not a buffet," she said with a smile and advanced to my seat. "Would you like anything to drink, sir? It is a long flight."

"Nothing, but thank you, Miss, uh, Airlines," I made sure she saw me read her tag as if it was her name. "You take such good care of us."

The flight attendant chuckled and continued along the plane.

I continued browsing around behind me, a pair of brown-haired girls sat next to each other. The way they were curled up, not talking, I just assumed they were shy. You know how people notice when someone is looking at them, and they look back? Both of these girls did that. One of them had stunning blue eyes, much like the sea below, and the other amazing golden brown ones, like a forest in late fall without its green. They quickly looked down, and curled up into themselves even more. But they looked, and that's how I knew that I wasn't invisible.

"It's time," someone whispered in the seat ahead of me. I couldn't even tell if it was a boy or a girl, let alone who it was.

"No," another whispering voice said.

"Give it back, man," the first voice pleaded as the plane shook a bit. "There's no time for games, come on."

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We're hitting some mild turbulence…"

"Good thing I already peed," I heard someone say.

I turned to the window again, but this time, I did not look away. One of the jet engines had turned orange. Like, really fucking orange. That was when I knew – shit was about to go down. Literally.

I didn't remember having a mirror, but if I'd had one, I would have probably seen my pupils dilate. I mean, how do you even survive a fucking plane crash?

I stood up at the same time as the people in front of me. But I had other things to worry about besides what they looked like.

"Please, sit down," the flight attendant urged, but as soon as she finished her sentence, a great force from my side of the plane rattled the entire craft. The strong, deep sound of destruction came with a slight delay.

The plane began to tilt to the side, probably faster than I perceived it, because I could have sworn that time slowed down for me. I started to run towards the back, stepping on the floor, the side of a seat, the ceiling, the side of another seat.

The rocky ride caused the blue-eyed girl to start flying head-first into the corner of the seat in front of her. Darting by, I slapped her face as hard as I could to make it drift away from danger. Ouch, that was going to burn in the morning.

The plane's nose had faced the Earth, we were all headed for our inevitable doom. I saw a stray cane bouncing around the cabin, I picked it up in my sprint. I glanced out the window – impact was just a few seconds away. I kicked with my legs as hard as I could to break my speed, but by the time I'd reached the back, I was flying towards the front. Collision. I placed the cane to block my way, but I just broke right through it, probably cracked a few ribs just with that. I extended a leg towards a seat… and that's pretty much all I could remember when I woke up.

But I did wake up. I have no idea how the fuck I survived, or how long I'd been out of it.

Damage assessment. I had all… both of my eyes, both of my arms, both of my legs. The thing between my legs remained intact. I tried to take a deep breath - yeah, broken ribs alright. I felt my head with my hands, and it felt like I had a dozen dents all over it. Oh, that tickling fluid all over me? Do I really need to tell you what that was?

I didn't know who had dragged me out to safety, but someone did. And that's how I knew that I wasn't invisible.

I leaned against the trunk, feeling the ridges of the bark push into my back. The tree itself had few leaves, but the ones at the top, I knew, were thick and juicy. I picked up a rock and a stick from the ground and watched carefully as the Campers (what I had come to call them in my mind) milled about, arguing and setting up pointless rules. Establishing the social hierarchy already.

I closed my eyes, pulling the rock over the stone quietly. Listening to the noises they made. I needed to build up the energy to climb to the top, and I couldn't let anyone see me collect the leaves. They would steal it to feed themselves.

Feet crunched through the sand, and my eyes flew open. Christopher and his friend PJ--whose real name, Peter Jackson, I had found through the school directory--approached me, tentative smiles on their faces. The anxiety hit me like a steamroller this time, a crashing wave of terror. Peter stopped and said something to me. I couldn't hear him, and I was afraid to listen. Three deep breaths, Quentin. I suddenly missed Mom more than anything.

"We aren't sure where the front of the plane landed after the crash..." his mouth moved, but no sound came out. The wave hit again, and I fought back. Christopher watched me curiously but kindly. I could see he didn't want Peter to hurt me.

Then, without thinking, I flashed back to the plane.

I was sitting by myself, laptop out and book in my lap. I was waiting for an email from Dr. Ronald Singbaum, a professor from Oxford. He was offering a peer review of my latest theory on quarks, and I was quite nervous about it. So I read. The book was my favorite: Newton's Principia. Mom had suggested it, to relax me.

About three-quarters of the way through our 10-hour flight, the plane began to fall. We could hear the wind suddenly become a whole lot louder as the engines got a whole lot quieter. We tipped to the left, and my peers screamed. I rushed to open my laptop, where my flight tracking program resided. I had made it the night before, in a fit of anxiety. I could access the live feed of any flight on the airline with the click of the button. Our feed showed our pilots cursing as they twisted and turned the joystick. The flight attendant screamed some words into the radio, and I watched, frozen, as the ground rushed towards us and the plane pitched forward. My laptop skidded across the floor and into the open door connecting the cockpit to the cabin.

Then everything went black.

I felt a pounding in my head, and suddenly the wave of anxiety subsided. I had dropped the branch and the rock, but my head was clearing.
"We hit turbulence before we went down," I coughed quietly, clearing my thoat. ""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."

For the first time since we crashed, my mind was clear. I was out of breath, and Christopher and PJ were staring at me.

"So, that way?" Christopher asked. I nodded, and PJ and Christopher glanced at one another. As they jogged away, Christopher looked back at me and nodded back. He, as a high-schooler, would detest this analogy, but his nod reminded me of Mom's reassuring nod as my class left for the airport. A small smile crept up my face as Christopher returned to the other Campers.

Arguing broke out. Some of the Campers, apparently, were going on an expedition to find the cockpit of the plane. A large party moved away, lead by Christopher. I remembered his nod to me and the glimmer of kindness in his eyes. I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away. Then I heard it. They were inviting me to come with them. The anxiety hit me again like a wave, making me shudder. I nodded, pretending to hear as they kept talking. The white noise was overwhelming.

--

They left almost immediately, but I could tell that they wouldn't get far quickly. As they argued, I gathered the juicy leaves from around the tree. They were like green beans, with cool green paste inside and crunchy, nutty seeds. I had seen something similar in my mom's wildlife journal, from the section on Madagascar and its surrounding islands. Madagascar--that lines up with the amount of time it took us to crash. I stuffed them in my pockets, hiding them from the others.

--

The next few days passed in a blur. I followed the others like a tracker, always 50, 60, 100 feet away. Hiding and surviving.

I would hear screams, sometimes, and I would catch up for a little, but the rest of my energy was devoted to controlling this endless storm of terror in my mind. Every night, as I lay down to sleep on the mossy floor, the storm would swallow me up, and every morning, as I sat up, I thought of Mom. Three deep breaths.

Saph

My eyes flicker open to the sounds of bird calls. I squint into the dappled sunlight and sit up. Everything is stiff, and my clothes are caked with mud. My hair is tangled and hangs heavily over my shoulder, twigs and leaves poking out of the knotty, muddy strands. I skin is darker, as though it had been covered in dirt, and I’m lying in a thick bed of foliage. Looking around, I realise that I’m in a tree, my bed of leaves in a nest right next to the trunk of the tree. Fear starts to rise in my gut and my breathing becomes rapid and loud. Hyperventilation isn’t new to me, it’s always the warning that I’m going into panic mode, and will have an anxiety attack. The last one I had was in the airport going to Africa. I vaguely remember balancing on the balls of my feet, arms locked tightly around my knees as I try to breathe, face buried in my knees. I remember people whispering and commenting and staring as they walked passed. But I didn’t care what they thought; I didn’t want to get on the plane with all those strange people. I remember thinking, What if the plane crashes? If I survive, I’d be stuck with all these strangers!. Wow, I certainly have come a long way. But what calmed me down? How did I stop freaking out? Why did I stop hyperventilating? Oh right, I had my psychologist with me. And now she’s dead. Whoops, probably shouldn’t have thought about that?

My breathing speeds up even more, and I start to curl up. My chest becomes tight and my head starts to feel heavy. Spots appear before my vision and my muscles tense up. I start to go into shut-down mode where I black out and wait for the panic to leave me – which could be minutes or hours and without being monitored is very dangerous – and start to freak out even more. What if I die while in my panic mode? Oh gosh, and then I’ll never see anyone again!

A small snuffling sound breaks me from my daze. I hear a faint yipping sound, and a blotch of bright yellow comes into my line of vision. I realise it’s Tenrec, coming over to see me. He shuffles through the leaf litter to snuggle into my face, his yellow and black body pressed against the bridge of my nose. My vision starts to clear and I gain full use of my muscles again. My breathing slows down, and becomes ragged. My chest hurts, now that it’s being filled fully with oxygen, and my muscles ache from the exertion from my panic attack. I uncurl my fingers gingerly, pain shooting through my hand and up my arm. My body starts to tremble and tears flood my eyes, rolling down my face as I regain full control of my body, breathing included. Tenrec makes a yipping noise again and I find his little brown eye next to mine.

When the exhaustion and pain wears off, I rub at my eyes and sit up. My face hurts just as much as everywhere else. I look down at Tenrec and smile as he stands up on his hind legs, matching my position. I pick him up and place him on my shoulder, so glad that he saved me.

“Oh Tenrec, I’m going to make sure you become the fattest hedgehog to ever live on this island,” I giggle as he snuffles in my ear. “Now I need to figure out how to get down.”

With my panic gone, I start to think rationally. It surprises me that, no matter what the situation is, if there are no people I’m able to recover from my shock or fear or panic and get on with thinking. If there was a person here, I would be freaking out even more, and Tenrec’s presence wouldn’t have made a difference at all. Another sound makes me whip my head to the side to see Fossa grinning at me. I smile with glee as she leaps from branch to branch and trots over to me. I wrap my arms around her warm, furry neck, hugging her tightly. She sits there and licks my cheek as I bury my face in her fur. Now that my two animal friends are here, I can figure out a way to … wait a second.

“Fossa,” I lean away from the large carnivore and stare at her. She licks her chops and blinks at me. “How did you get up here?”

“How did she get up here indeed,” a voice leers. I can’t tell if the speaker is male or female … or even real at all. Maybe I’m going crazy.

My body starts to shake again and I look around for any signs of disturbance in the canopy or animals. Nothing, everything seems normal, well … undisturbed. Fossa looks around and snarls. Or hisses, I don’t really know what sound she just made, but it was frightening. A chuckle from the trees sends chills through my body and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My blue eyes dart around, fear sparking in my blood.

“Wh-who’s there?” I stammer.

“Who’s there? You want to know who’s there?” The voice mocks.

I think about that. “No I don’t,” I realise. “Where am I?” I shout out instead.

“Oh, this little piggy is safe and sound in her new tree. The ground is dangerous for you, little piggy,” the voice sneers.

Little piggy? Is this person … whoever they are, calling me a pig?! “I was safe with my friend, thank you very much,” I retort, voice shaking.

“Ooh, Little Pig, don’t get too brave. The Big Bad Wolf is getting hungry,” the voice is laced with mockery, but the words make me tremble with fear.

“Y-y-y-y-you would-dn’t e-eat me w-w-w-w-would you?” I stammer out. I mentally chide myself. Just breathe, Saph. No one can understand you when you start babbling like a mindless twat. My stutter only comes out when I’m afraid, or under a lot of stress. And I’d say right now could be considered quite stressful and fear invoking.

“What a l-l-l-l-lovely st-t-t-tutter you have there, L-L-L-Little Pig,” the voice is closer now.

I start to stammer out sounds, and stop. The voice is laughing at me now. And for some odd reason I can’t place the voice’s gender. I can’t tell if they’re male or female. And I don’t know people at all, so I can’t make a judgement by characteristics or … word choices or … gah! I grab my head and shake it, pulling at my hair. The sharp stab of pain brings me back to the present.

“Shut up!” I scream at the laughing voice. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“No, you shut up,” the voice has a savage tone to it now. “You came here stealing my food and stomped through my jungle, making friends with my animals, and now you’re telling me what to do. I don’t like this, no I don’t like this at all.”

Fear grips me in her cold claws once again, and I know, by the savagery in that tone, that my fear isn’t going to leave. I know nothing of people, of their characteristics and whatever it is used to define them, but when their tone goes dark, serious and angry, pain will follow. At least, it was like that with Mum. Whenever her voice would take on that cutting edge, I’d end up in pain. I push myself against the tree and wrap my arms around my knees, hugging them to my body. I look around, tears welling in my eyes, as I search in vain for the horrid speaker. Tenrec snuffles in my ear, and Fossa wraps her tawny body around mine, but their presences do nothing to push down the fear that tightens my chest.

“I see you are frightened. That’s a good start. Be afraid, Little Pig,” the voice has returned to its mocking tone.

“P-p-p-please d-d-don’t hurt m-m-m-m-me,” I stammer, not caring if I sound like an idiot.

“Don’t worry, Little Pig, I’m saving that for later,” the voice sounds very pleased with itself. This sends another bolt of fear through my body. “Now, would you like to know –“

“What did you do to Chris?” I blurt out.

“Chris?” The voice asks in confusion. “Oh! You’re little friend. Don’t worry, he isn’t dead.”

“Where is he?” I grate out. For some reason thinking about Chris gets rid of the stammer.

“Where I left him. Now, let me –“

“Then how do you know he isn’t dead?” My voice is starting to get louder and angrier.

“Because I watched him wake up and start looking for you,” the voice is very aggravated now. “So shut the hell up, Little Pig, and let me talk.”

“Chris is l-l-look-k-king for m-me?” I stutter out in surprise.

“Now, you seem to know your way around my jungle,” either the voice didn’t hear me or chose to ignore my comment. “So I suppose you’re the navigator. And since I took you away, the dead idiot is dead,” tears well up in my eyes at the memory of Summers dying, “and the other idiot is lost and will die, the rest of your people will have no idea what to do. And then they’ll get brave and start exploring my jungle, and that will be a problem, do you know why, Little Pig?”

I shake my head, wondering if the voice can see me. I’m going to call the voice “It”, because the movie It scared me a lot, and the voice is scary, too.

“Well, then the Other Idiots will start to steal from my jungle. They’ll kill my animals and eat my food. And then I won’t have anything left. I need to send them a message,” It starts to mutter to themself. “I need to find a way to make them realise they’re not allowed here. I need paper. I need something that can be used for writing. And ink. I’ll need ink. Or blood, that would scare them, wouldn’t it?”

I swallow loudly. “I think blood would scare them a lot,” I find myself agreeing.

“Shut up,” It snaps. “I’ll have to find something to write with … bones. No, feathers. Yes, feathers. And then paper …”

The voice fades away, and I wait for what seems like an age before moving. Fossa unwraps her body from around my legs and moves to the edge of the nest, sitting on her haunches with her long, slender tail wrapped around her paws. Tenrec makes a chirping sound as he sits under my mass of tangled hair. I peer at him through twigs and muddy strands to make sure he’s okay, before I stand up and look around for a way to escape. Fossa makes a strange yipping sound and darts over to a branch. She runs onto it and waits for me to walk over to her. Frowning, I get on my hands and knees and crawl onto the branch.

Fossa starts to descend, branch by branch. I follow her slowly and carefully. When the ground becomes closer, my heart rate speeds up, and I stop to catch my breath and calm down, in case I fall. Fossa leaps onto the ground when there is only five metres to go, and I follow. My feet sink into the muck on the ground, breaking my fall. A series of chirrups makes me look at Tenrec, who is chattering nervously by my ear. I bend down and dart over to Fossa, who is crouched under a thick-leafed bush. She glances at me before returning her gaze to the forest around us.

After waiting for half an hour, even though it could have been five minutes, Fossa darts to another bush. I wait until she turns to look back at me before I follow. Again, she waits and looks around before darting off again. We do this for a while until we get to a stream. Fossa laps at the water and I rush over to the stream, cupping water with my hands and drinking as much as my stomach can handle. I wipe my mouth clean on my sleeve, and then gag. Removing Tenrec from my shoulder, I place him on a rock and take off my jumper. I submerge it in water and wash it, then lay it out on another rock to dry. I then take my shift off and pants, washing those too. After a moment of hesitation, and a look Fossa’s way, I take off my underwear and bra and climb into the stream. The cold water is biting, but I don’t let that stop me from scrubbing my skin and hair clean.

As I sit on a rock in my bra and underwear combing through my wet, tangled hair with my fingers, I have a good look around at where I am. The trees are tall, and close together. The shrubs and plants are around my height, and little paths made by the animals lead under and through the undergrowth. I watch a bird dart over to a bush full of purple berries and steal one. A couple of feline-looking creatures appear on the other side of the stream and Fossa lifts her head from grooming her fur to glare at them. The creatures hiss and dart off. The array of animals here is making me wonder what he largest creatures are. And how big the island is. I’m going to try and walk around the entire beach and hike through most of the jungle. I think I could content myself with living here for the rest of my life. No people to disturb or harass me, and plenty to do, honing my survival skills and learning about the climate and environment.

Fossa makes that scary hissing noise and I quickly jump to my feet and look around. I look at Fossa, whose narrowed gaze is turned to the trees above. I look around at the canopy, hoping It isn’t back yet. Although, how could It have found me? I’ve been following Fossa through the undergrowth the entire time. And I doubt she’d have let us leave any tracks behind.

After a moment, Fossa stops hissing and returns to grooming. I check my clothes and put them back on. They’re warm and dry, if a bit odd smelling. But that would help me a lot with hiding from creatures that might decide to prey on me. I pick Tenrec up, who is curled up asleep, and put him back on my shoulder. Fossa trots over to me and winds her body through my legs before jumping through the stream. I follow her and we walk down a path, through the thick jungle. There is a rustling in the leaves behind me and Fossa whips around, growling. I crouch down and realise I don’t have my boots on. I no! My knife!

“Fossa, I need to find my boots!” I whisper.

Fossa yips and spins around to run off. I dart after her, ducking between trees and under bushes. I can hear footsteps crashing through the undergrowth behind me, and that spurs me on, making me run faster. I’m so grateful for my fitness, and I know I can run for a good half hour at this pace. I can hear the sound of water running, and spot the creek. Fossa sprints across the open ground to where my boots are in the mud. I slide through the mud and quickly pick them up. I stick my hand into each boot but don’t find my knife. Oh shit! Maybe Chris got it? If he has my knife he better give it back, or I’m going to hurt him. Wait, no I won’t. wow, I get so protective of sharp things, it’s scary.

“Well, Little Pig,” It’s voice sneers through the clearing. “Looks like I should have made it more difficult for you to get down.”

“Maybe I’m too smart for you,” I throw back at It, looking around for a weapon. Spotting a stick that could pass for a spear, I start towards it. “Guess incompetency wasn’t something you thought of, being all alone.”

“You little brat,” It snarls.

Something hits me in the back of the head and I fall forward, my world going black.

”Saphire!” Mum’s voice calls me down from my room. “Saphire come on, you’re going to be late for school!”

I jump to my feet, off my computer, and grab my school bag. I sling the strap over my shoulder and bolt down the stairs. Mum is waiting by the front door. She gives me a contemplating look as I strut passed her. My confidence dwindles as soon as I step outside, and Mum instantly picks up on it.

“Saphire, get in the car,” Mum commands.

I follow her at a dwindling pace. She has a very aggravated expression on her face as she gets into the car. I hope in the passenger side and buckle up. Mum starts the car, and I lean back into the seat, eyes turning to the window. As the scenery glides passed, I realise we’re not heading to school. Confusion blossoms in my mind, and I glance at Mum with wide, innocent eyes.

“Mum –“

“Don’t speak to me, Saphire,” Mum growls.

“Where are we going?” I ask, regardless.

“What did I just say to you?” Mum glares at me, her voice low and dangerous.

I look down and sink into the seat. My eyes return to the window and we pull into the car park. The building presented to me looks a lot like a hospital. Am I sick? Why are we here?

“Don’t get out of the car,” Mum doesn’t even look at me as she stops the car and gets out. I watch her walk over to the hospital doors and disappear. I wait for what seems like an eternity, when she comes back with a man wearing white clothes. She comes around to my side of the door and opens it up. “Leave your bag, get out of the car.”

“Mum, what’s going on?” I ask.

“You must be Saphire,” the man in white smiles at me.

“Yeah,” I nod, shrinking in on myself. My accent is really obvious compared to the man’s American one.

“Right this way, please,” he smiles and beckons me to follow.

I look at Mum, who nods expectantly, before following the man. I can hear the click of her heels as she follows behind. We walk across the bitumen car park, through large sliding double doors, and into a reception office. I follow the white man through more sliding doors, and down a hallway. The further we walk, the less comfortable I feel about being here.

“I hope you don’t mind us medicating her,” the man in white says over his shoulder.

“I don’t mind at all, as long as she’s well looked after,” Mum responds coolly.

“Who?” I ask, looking at Mum.

“Be quiet, Saphire,” Mum glares at me.

We turn to a door and the man stops. He turns to Mum and frowns. “You’ll have to say goodbye now. We want her to get settled in on her own,” he tells her.

“Okay,” Mum turns to me and bends down on one knee. Tears prick her eyes, and I raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Saphire, I know you’re unwell, and can’t be around people –“

“That’s not true!” I argue. “I can be around you. I’m here now.”

“Saph, please,” Mum gives me a hard stare. “You’re going to be here for a while, and they’re going to make you better. You won’t see me every day, but I will come and visit.”

Panic seizes my chest. “Y-y-you’re leaving m-me?” I stutter.

“I have to,” Mum smiles sadly. She opens her arms and pulls me into a hug. I just stand there, trembling with fear. “I love you baby.”

“Then why are you leaving me?” I bite out, lips trembling.

“I have to,” Mum kisses my forehead and stands up. “I’ll see you in a week, check how you’re doing.”

Something in me closes, like a door to a room you’re used to seeing exposed suddenly gone. I narrow my eyes at my mother as I realise where she’s leaving me. A psych ward. Where they put the bat shit crazies. Well, if that’s what she wants to do, then so be it. I’ll be so bat shit crazy she won’t want to come back. Ever.

“No you won’t. Don’t come back. I hate you!” I scream. I make to run at her, but strong hands grab me and pull me back. I lash out, screaming. “Mummy help! Mummy, don’t leave me! Mummy!”

I can see Mum openly crying now. Someone comes over and guides her away. The door to the room in front of us opens and I’m dragged into it. I continue to lash about, kicking and screaming. The man carrying me grunts when I kick manage to punch him in the gut, and I fall to the floor. I run over to the bed and crawl under it. I climb into the frame and stay there, sobbing.

My mother doesn’t want me anymore. She left me here because I’m not good enough.

I wake with a pounding in my head. Sitting up, hand pressed to my temple, I look around. Much to my horror, I’m back in the leafy nest. Fear doesn’t grip me like it did the first time. I hug my knees to my chest and rest my head on them, crying silently. The dream I had – or flashback, I don’t know what to call it – has really rattled me. Tenrec is snuffling through the leaves, and Fossa is curled up asleep near the edge of the nest. I notice that vines have been weaved across the branches so I can’t climb down. Oh well, I guess I can survive up here, as long I can have food and water.

Looking to my left, I see a large bowl of berries, and another bowl of water. My stomach grumbles, but my heart hurts. I hate emotional pain, it’s worse than physical pain. It creeps up on you at the most unexpected of moments, and then you want to cry. Unless that’s just me, because I’m a freak. I mean, clearly I am because my mother left me at a psych ward, even though I just had social anxiety disorder. Okay, so maybe I couldn’t go anywhere near another person without shutting down and freaking out, but I could still function normally when alone. I had reasonable school grades from homework and private study, and I was fit and athletic from army cadets.

“I see you’re awake, Little Pig,” It has the mocking tone in It’s voice again.

I don’t respond, tears streaming freely down my face. I don’t care who It is, what they look like, and why they’ve kidnapped me. I don’t even care about the food and water at the moment.

“Well, got anything to say, Little Pig?” It sneers.

I shake my head.

“Why not?” It asks, curiosity plain in It’s voice.

“Just don’t,” my voice is a trembling whimper.

Silence fills the nest. I close my weary, grief exhausted eyelids. After an age, I open them and look up. The sky is starting to darken, and I sigh. Day five on the island is coming to an end. I wonder if anyone knows I’m gone. I wonder if anyone cares. I wonder what Chris is doing, if he’s looking for me, if he found his way safely back to the beach. I hope so. I wonder how my mother is doing. I know I won’t ever see her again, but I don’t mind anymore.

Crawling over to the bowls, I eat the berries, and drink all the water. With a slightly full stomach, I go back to my spot and curl up against the tree trunk. I watch as the sky grows darker and darker, and stars start to sparkle in the murky purple-black expanse. I remember my psychologist would sing when I’d feel like this, like nothing mattered. She had such a beautiful voice. She tried to get me to sing, but I was too nervous, too afraid. When I was alone, and knew I was all alone, I would wonder what my voice sounded like if I sang. I wouldn’t say I’m as good as Christina Aguilera or Beyoncé, but I like my voice because it’s unique and not amazing.

“If I said I wasn’t worth it,
Would you love me anyway?
If I said I had to leave,
Would you follow me there too?

If I wanted to sing out loud,
Would you listen to my song?
If the lyrics weren’t too bad,
Would you sing along?

If I showed you who I am,
Would you still love me?
Would you still see me as human,
Or would you want to flee?

Could you look past all our differences?
Could you still give me a chance?
Is there any room in your heart,
For a shattered soul?”

“What song is that?” The voice returns.

I start in surprise. “I m-m-m-made it up,” I stutter.

“Sounds interesting,” It comes closer. I can hear shuffling in the leaves. “Do you sing often?”

“Onl-l-l-ly when I’m s-s-sad,” I admit.

“Why are you sad?” It asks curiously.

“Don’t worry about you, you probably wouldn’t understand,” I huff.

“Try me,” It sounds amused. “I bet your Idiot Friend is your lover, and you miss him.”

My face heats up. “No, that’s not it at all. We’re just friends, I doubt he could see me other than a freak, anyway,” I grate out, despite me blushing.

“Whoa, Little Pig, where did that come from?” It leers.

“I’ll tell you if you stop calling me Little Pig,” I narrow my eyes in the direction I think the voice is coming from.

“What is it?” It asks.
“Saph,” I jut out my chin.

“Interesting name,” It says. “Is your story just as interesting?”

“Well, when I was fourteen, my mother dropped me off at a psych ward because I have really bad social anxiety disorder, and left me there. She said she’d visit, but she never did. So for three years I had people trying to treat me and make me ‘better’. I hate people, they scare me, and I don’t do very well in crowds,” I take a deep breath. “My psychologist was going on this trip to Africa, and she wanted to bring me along. It was fun, and I enjoyed the trip, even acting slightly normal. But then the plane crashed, and we landed on this island, and I thought I was making friends, even with my anxiety, but then you ruined everything by kidnapping me, and now I’m going to die here and never get to be a better person than who my mother thought I was.”

Silence meets my words. After a while, I start to get tired. I lie down and let my eyes close. Day five ends. I can feel warmth as Fossa comes and curls up beside me. I wriggle down in the leaves and wait for sleep to come.

I woke up covered in blood.

The ground was flooded with it, and my football jacket was sticky with it. I could see the letter bleeding down the front.

I turned over on my side, my eyes half-open, and there was Summers, flopping towards me, his face white and glassy, water running off of him. His body had no limbs, only chunks of flesh protruding from his shoulders.

I heard something from my right and looked towards it, it was a bodiless arm. I tried to back away, but it jumped up and grabbed my shirt, holding me down. My eyes flitted to Summers again as I struggled to escape.

He looked right into my eyes. "Wake up, Chris."

My eyes flashed open, and I wasn't drenched in blood, but in sweat, my heart racing. I took a few breaths. My head was pounding. I reached up and felt blood pooling near my temple. I tried to ignore it and stood dizzily to my feet.

I was alone in the quiet of the jungle; soundless besides the birds and the wind rustling the leaves. That's when I saw it, his body, slumped on the ground, stiff and lifeless. I tried not to think about it, but then I started to think about it more; wondering if I should bury him. I don't have a shovel, I thought dumbly.

And then I remembered Blue. I jogged over to where I'd been knocked out, swaying a little. I tried to see if there were any tracks, and I saw a few footprints (which got me all riled up), but only in the muddy area right next to the river. Nothing that extended beyond the clearing. She was gone. There was no sign of her or who took her.

I wondered if it was someone from camp. It had to be. There were no other people on the island. If there were, they would have seen our signal fire. They would have sent for rescue.

I cursed. If only I wasn't such a lousy tracker. I spent most of my time on the clean-cut grass of the sports fields behind the high school, not in the woods. I searched some more, and then realized I had to get back to the beach. We could get a search party together. Then we would find Blue, find her psychopathic captor and I would beat the goddamn living daylights out of the guy. It couldn't be too hard.

Don't panic. C'mon, Chris, man with the plan.

Then my eyes found Summers's body again. My stomach turned, and I felt my face get hot, and I was sure I was going to cry or get sick or both, and then Blue's face just hung in my head, and the thought came to me.

It's all my damn fault. I was stupid for thinking so, but I let myself think it for a second, not for any longer, and then I took action, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, running back down the river, sprinting. My body was conditioned from sports, and I ran nearly the whole way back to the village. It was easier in broad daylight. I emptied my mind and thought of nothing but the next thing I had to do.

I wasted no time and stumbled back through the jungle. I knew we'd come on a relatively straight path, and I could remember some of the main landmarks we passed. I felt like I could remember a lot now that I really needed to. My head was stinging from where I'm sure I had a gash near my hairline.

Suddenly, I broke through the tree line and into a small, overgrown clearing. My legs stopped running when I saw a girl there, kneeling next to a tree. I bent over to catch my breath, and my knees almost buckled. I stood back up and let my head fall back, my hands on my hips. She laughed, the girl did. What the hell is she laughing for?

"Which way's the beach?" I asked her, wanting to keep myself on track. If I stopped having something to focus on doing, it would be much harder to suppress my emotions.

"I don't know," she said. "Who are you?"

"Why're you out here?" I asked her, still breathing hard. She was hot, nice body, nice hair, dazzling brown eyes. But even I couldn't spend much time thinking about that.

She was looking at me, and her eyes fell on my temple. She kind of put her hand to her mouth. "You're bleeding. Are you okay?"

"It's not my blood," I lied. I'd have to find a hat to cover it up.

"Let me see," she said, beckoning me closer.

I just stood there, unmoving. My breaths came easier, now. "No," I said bluntly. "Why're you out here?" My mouth moved but I didn't think at all, not really, I tried not to.

She shifted on the ground, tried to stand. Her shirt and shorts were singed, and were pulled around tight to her body. There must've been something off with her leg. It was bruised and burned, and she couldn't stand on it. She propped her hand against a tree for support. "I can't get back to the beach," she said. "My leg—," she started, but didn't finish.

"I think it's this way," I told her, surprised by how calm I sounded. I ran my hand through my hair, and then walked her way, feeling a little dizzy. "Here," I said, and leaned in close to her, putting my arm around her waist. "Just lean into me." I took her arm a little roughly and put it around my shoulders. I guess I was used to carrying injured football players off the field, so I forgot to be too careful. She felt light comparatively. She smelled like coconuts and, well, burned things.

"Thanks," she said, leaning heavily against me. I could tell she could hardly move her leg at all. "I'm Alaska."

"Okay, Hawaii," I said, "let's get you back to the beach." I squeezed her hip a little, and she jumped, surprised. It distracted me from what I knew I was gonna have to do when I got back to the beach. I'd made myself a mental list that I ran over once or twice so I wouldn't forget.

A, round everyone up to give them the speech. A1, tell them what we found. A2, tell them Summers is dead. A3, tell them about how Blue got kidnapped. B, get a search party together. C, lead them back to where she got taken. D, activate the game plan.

"What's your name?" She asked me as we stumbled through the jungle.

"Ace," I lied. "Ace Charles." It came almost as second nature to me, to fib a little about my name. It wasn't exactly the best time to be lying to this girl just for fun, but it just kind of spilled out of my mouth and I didn't much care. Besides, Ace Charles was a boss name. I pulled the double-first-name, no less.

I didn't take long for us to reach the beach. Alaska-Hawaii-Nebraska said to me, "I think I can stand," and grabbed a branch from the nearest tree, propping it up under her arm. "Thanks, Ace," she said, smiling. Pretend nothing's wrong. Pretend everything's okay. I flashed her a good smile, but it didn't reach my eyes.

"No problem, Hawaii," I said. "I'll be right back."

I ran down the beach about twenty feet to a tarp that had blown over. I grabbed a Giants baseball cap that was laying on the ground, and put it on backwards, wincing, making sure the cut was covered. I didn't know if it was deep enough to need stitches, but if it was, I couldn't have anyone trying to stick a needle through my brain.

I saw P.J. walking by. I reached out and grabbed his arm roughly. He stopped mid-stride. "Wow, man," he said, looking at me. "You look rough."

"Help me round everyone up, would you?" I urged, ignoring his comment. He nodded and jogged away. I cupped my hands around my mouth. "Yo!" I yelled. "Everybody huddle up!" I stepped up onto some kind of wooden crate. People started looking at me strange, and a few started to pay attention and come closer. I figured that was the best I was going to get.

On a whim, I decided to skip steps A1 and A2. "A girl from our camp was taken," I said. People started to talk amongst themselves anxiously and tried to ask questions—What do you mean? Who got taken? Who took her? What happened? Where?—until I raised my voice and talked right over them.

"We're gonna have to get a search party together. I can take a group of guys in to where she got taken, and we can go from there. We'll split up in pairs and do a perimeter sweep."

"Who took her?" I heard someone say from the front. It was the red-head that had went on the first hike a few days back. Harris, or something.

"I don't know who took her," I said. "It was dark."

"I'll help," I heard from the back, where a blond guy stepped up. He was wearing some expensive-looking shades. Boy, is he trying too hard, I thought.

"Great," I said. "We need as many people as we can get." A few others stepped up, some trying to be funny with I volunteer as tribute and such.

"I wanna help," I heard from my right, where Alaska-Hawaii was still leaning on her makeshift crutch.

I turned to her, stepping down from my stage. Everybody who was going had started to group up. "Nah," I said. "You gotta rest," I said, nodding to her leg.

"No," she said, "I wanna help. I can just use this." She held up her crutch. "Besides, it doesn't hurt that awful bad."

I laughed, more mirthlessly than not. "Yeah, it doesn't hurt that awful bad, but it's gonna hurt worse if you go running around in the jungle, Texas."

"Alaska. I'm coming," she insisted stubbornly.

I shrugged. "Okay, suit yourself." I wasn't going to waste time arguing with her if that meant Blue was out there for that much longer. I couldn't stand thinking about her, all alone, hair tangled, afraid. For some reason, it was the tangled hair that really pulled my heartstrings. Just thinking about it got me all broken-hearted.

I turned to the rest of the group. "Okay, everybody pair up! I'll lead you out to where where she was taken, and then we're gonna spread out. If anyone finds anything, then come back to the rendezvous point, and we'll regroup from there."

"Where's the rendezvous point?" Someone asked.

"You'll know when we get there," I told them. When we got there, I knew there would be questions; about Summers's body, about what happened in the jungle, about why they left me and took Blue.

Alaska-Hawaii looked around for a partner. I touched her arm, craning my neck to look up ahead, where people were already starting to gather. Assertively, I told her, "You're with me."

"Right over there," Lou said, adjusting his position in the bushes. It was dark out, and if I craned my neck to the left, I could see the Wiggs's house lights.

I shifted, fixing my jeans and peeking over the tops of the hedges. There was Lucas Wiggs; short, pale, and pathetic Lucas Wiggs, taking his normal evening stroll outside of his house. He walked to the mailbox, fixing his combover.

"What a dweeb," Lou whispered, shaking his head, like he felt bad for the guy.

I elbowed him. "Bet his mom told him to get the mail," I said. We both stifled laughs. Wiggs was a band geek, Drama Club accessory. He was in our grade, but he'd only went to one real party—probably in his life—and that was Jessie Graves' graduation a month ago. He'd taken one sip of hard ale and went crazy, smashing out Graham Anderson's truck windows with his clarinet. Lou and I called egging his house vengeance on Graham's behalf, but really it was just an excuse for us to make him cry.

We moved to get a better position, our shoulders jostling. "Let's do this," I said. I carefully removed an egg from the bag, and then threw it, hard, at the front window.

"Good arm," Lou muttered as he threw one himself while Lucas had spun around to see what hit the house.

Then I touched my chin and then both my shoulders, then my chin again; the signal to go. I jumped from the bushes, pelting eggs at Wiggs, Lou laughing and doing the same. Wiggs sheltered himself with his arms for a second before he took off towards the house. Lou and I sprinted after him.

"Where you gonna go?" I yelled, and caught him after about a second. I flipped his shirt over his head and then pushed him to the ground, face first. I was still standing there, laughing at him, when Lou arrived by my side. He prodded Lucas with his foot. There were eggshells and yokes all over him.

"Please," Lucas said, his hands shielding his face. "I didn't do anything."

Lou looked a little squeamish, like he was having second thoughts. He fixed his flat brim and then backed up, crossing his arms. I took out the ropes we'd brought. Lucas tried to get up and run again, the little bastard, but I got him down. "Hold him down," I told Lou. He held his shoulders while I stripped him down to his underwear.

Lucas was sobbing pitifully until snot came out of his nose. It was funny as hell. We dragged him to the tree by the road, and tied him to it. "Please," he said, "Leave me alone, guys. I'll do anything. I'll do your homework. I—I'll carry your duffel bags." He sounded so terrified it was hilarious.

I smirked. "Hear that, Gehrig? The little faggot said he'll carry our duffel bags." And then, to Lucas, "Shut up, or I'll light a firecracker underneath your ass."

Lou's eyes darted around. "Dude, you hear that?" He looked around, and we heard a woman yelling from the porch.

Lou and I dropped the excess rope and started bolting away. "See you later, loser," I called behind us, when we were far enough away.

"Yeah, next time we'll beat up your sister!" Lou called. We snickered.

We were laughing, our breath fogging from our mouths, socking each other in the shoulders, the pavement cold and endless underneath our feet. We were about a two hundred yards away when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket. I read the caller ID.

Mom.

I picked up. We slowed to a walk. "Yeah," I said, always annoyed when she called me at night.

"Come home, Chris," she said. Her voice was breaking up, but not like the connection was bad. "Get home right now, okay?" Then she hung up.

I thought about blowing her off, and heading back to Lou's to watch Snakes On A Plane for the eighteenth time. But I knew she'd ground me for a week if I didn't go, and she seemed pretty distraught, so I decided I'd forfeit one movie night to see what's up at home like the good guy I was.

It made me feel like a thoughtful and otherwise noble person.

I told Lou I had to go, and then walked home. I came in the front door and let it click shut behind me. Mom hated when I slammed the door. I kicked off my sneakers, tossed my backpack away, and then looked up. I stopped. Rian was standing in the living room in her purple night gown, hugging her arms to her body. She wasn't crying, but it sure looked like she was about to.

Mom was in the foyer. She rushed to me and hugged me tight. I wriggled out of her grip. "Do you mind?" I said, and she backed away. Her face was stricken with tears. Mascara ran on her cheeks. She was clutching a tissue so tight her knuckles were white.

"What's going on?" I asked, confused. There was a short silence. Mom bit her lip, and Rian walked to the couch, curling up and grabbing her earbuds from the coffee table. There was a half-eaten bag of Fritos on the counter, and there were pieces of chips littering the floor, trampled and dirty. My eyes fell on the hole in the wall, the bruised apple on the floor, the glass under the fallen shelf.

"Your father left," Mom finally said, her voice small and meek.

"Dad left," Rian echoed numbly.

"He's gone," Mom said. She hugged me again, and I had the decency not to pull away. She started to cry into my shoulder, holding my face against hers. I just stood there, rigid.

Relieved. Relieved that he was gone. That it was over; the fighting, the arguing, the tense silences. It was momentarily satisfying to see the aftermath; all the broken pieces that came from a thing splitting in half, all the collateral damage. But Mom would never understand if I told her that.

She finally backed away from me, and then kissed me on the forehead. Something like regret hit me in the heart. "Sorry, Mom," I said, meaning it.

"It's not your fault," she chastised. "It's not your fault he left." My eyes shifted as she pulled me into another hug I didn't give back. Rian stared at me from over the back of the couch. We made eye contact.

Both of us knowing how much my fault it was.

The whole group of us approached the jungle, and every second we spent, I thought more and more about how I could have saved Blue.

And it hurt me like hell.

Alaska



Where was I? With a bunch of familiar faces that I, for some reason, did not want to be familiar with. I locked eyes with a girl that had been sitting two rows ahead of me on the plane-- the girl that had been screaming for help. The girl that I ignored. The girl that wasn't loud enough. Her skin was dark red. I could see the burn marks lining her jaw. Her lips quivered. I had to tear my eyes away from hers, because it felt like she was digging into my soul, rummaging through every single memory and thought that I'd ever had.

The boy, Abe? Ace? Ace. Ace stood on a wooden crate that looked as though it would break at any second, and began trying to get the attention of the other teenagers. Few looked his way, but it didn't take long for more to look over and see what was going on.

After a moment of standing there, he says, "A girl from our camp was taken." And that's all it took for the crowd to break out into a rampage. Some screaming out questions, to which there was to answer, and others conversing quietly with either themselves or the person next to them.

Was that why he was out there, in the forest? Looking for the girl? He seemed pretty distraught when I first saw him. Maybe this girl was special to him. My mind wandered aimlessly as his lips moved, and I only caught little pieces of what he was saying because the ringing from the day before had returned and was louder than before.

I didn't know how much time had passed, with me trying to force the ringing away, and the crowd chattering loudly. I heard, "We need as many people as we can get," and instantly decided that I was going to be one of those people.

"I wanna help," I state as loudly as I could, but nobody seemed to hear me. Until Ace turned his head, and stepped down from the creaking crate.

As I held my weight up with the thick stick, Ace pursed his lips and said, "Nah," as if it weren't an option. That means no, right? "You gotta rest," the boy says, and nods his head toward my leg.

Seriously?

"No," Not seriously. I stare at him, determined to convince him to let me tag along. Not that he had much say in whether I could or not. I'd go either way. But it'd be easier if he agreed with me going. "I wanna help. I can just use this," I hold the makeshift crutch up, and balance on my one leg, "Besides, it doesn't hurt that awful bad."

That awful bad. Was that right? I think I said that right. He laughed. Nevermind, I didn't.

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt that 'awful bad', but it's gonna hurt worse if you go running around in the jungle, Texas," He says after his little laugh.

It wasn't that hard to remember Alaska, was it? The thought that he may be mentally damaged crossed my mind before I frowned at him, "Alaska. I'm coming."

I don't remember if me acting like this would be considered pure stubbornness or just determined-- I decided that it was just my determination speaking, just so I wouldn't feel guilty for taking up his time just because I wanted to go against what he said.

Ace shrugs, "Okay, suit yourself," Did he really just give in that easy? Ace turns back towards the group, and I stare at the slight trail of blood streaming down his neck-- of course that was his blood. I almost believed him earlier when he said it wasn't.

"Okay, everybody pair up! I'll lead you out to where she was taken, and then we're gonna spread out. If anyone finds anything, then come back to the rendezvous point, and we'll regroup from there." Ace calls out to all of the survivors that stood in front of him.

"Where's the rendezvous point?" Someone, I couldn't see who, called out.

He seemed to not even think about the question when he oh-so-quickly replied with, "You'll know when we get there."

Partner. I needed a partner. I didn't know any of these people. Chelsea was nowhere in sight, but the thought of her not making it was too harsh to think about at the moment. I almost scream when tentative fingers glide across my skin, and I turn to see who the person was. Ace?

"You're with me," He says, although his neck was craned upwards. I'm with him? Why do I have to be with him? Why can't I just be alone?

I didn't know where we were going. Once everyone was paired up, Ace led me to the start of the trees and beckoned for the rest to follow. I trailed behind him, avoiding his eyes when he'd pointlessly glance my way, or behind us, and wondered who the girl was-- the one that'd been taken. Someone I know? Chelsea? Jackie? Someone behind us called out a question, but Ace's eyes were trained in front of us, and they were glazed over-- as if he were in deep thought. I tore my eyes away from his face, and watched the trees sway with the soft breeze, the free leaves dance across the soil, the small animals prance out of our way as we so ruthlessly tromped though the underbrush.

Where were we going? What were we doing? Who took this girl? Why did I volunteer to go into the woods with a bunch of strangers? What was my Pa doing? How was Paynt? Was there anyone else out in the woods, lost after the crash? Alone? What was the ringing? Why did I have so many questions?

Everything had been going so good at school. Home was okay. Pa was still upset with me for rejecting the traditional clothing that had been passed down from my Great Great Grandmother, Merke Chai, and Paynt thought I was changing too much to fit in, but it's not like it really mattered. We lived in the USA. Not Jamaica. No. I wasn't going to dress in clothing that reminded me of my mother. Grandmother. Great Grandmother. Etc.. I felt bad for getting so off topic, and having the audacity to even think of something that was at the bottom of the Important list.

I didn't know how long we'd been walking, but as Ace started to slow down, I did the same. A small clearing came into view, and the shape of a crooked log that was sitting upwards made it into my line of vision. As we neared closer, the log turned into...something other than a log. I blinked, and the image of me grabbing onto a fried body on the plane rattled me. I clutched the stick tight, and stared at the shape. Log. Misshapen pile of leaves. Resting animal. Resting big animal. Resting animal shaped like a human. Dead body.

My hand slapped itself against my mouth as a gasp escaped. Oh God. I should've stayed.

Questions immediately sprang out of mouths when the others realized what was slumped against the tree: "Who is that?" "What happened?" "Did you know about this?" "Why didn't you say anything?" "Is that Summers?" "Oh my god, Chri-"

Ace hollered a, "Hey!" and stared at the confused, scared, and angry eyes. "I'll explain, if you just stay quiet and listen."

I didn't want to listen. I wanted to go back to the beach. I dry heaved, and lowered myself to the ground as the smell of rotting flesh and wet soil filled my nostrils. I needed to throw up. I didn't have anything to throw up. I continued to gag as tears began to surface. I couldn't do this. Why were they all just standing there?

"I'm going back," I mumbled, but I'm not even sure anybody heard. I didn't even know if it had actually come out. I shakily raise myself from the ground, stick in hand, and attempt to stumble off. Unfortunately, that didn't work so well, because a warm arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back-- I didn't know who it was. Not Ace, that's for sure.

"Ain't no going back," A deep voice rumbled close to my face, and the last thing that happened before we went our separate ways was Ace explaining what had happened, and him also telling us where to go if we found anything useful.

I didn't want to be here.

I couldn't be here.

I wouldn't be here.

But I was here.

We were all here.

I had to leave here.

Where was here?

Saph

My eyes flicker open rapidly. Dappled green and gold light filters through dense leaves, and I see lemurs and birds darting across and through the branches above. Startled, I sit up and look around. Panic takes a hold of my chest and I start to hyperventilate, looking around at the nest of leaves I’m lying in. Where the hell am I? Oh my gosh, I’m in a tree! How did I get up here?

And then everything comes crashing back. My breathing hitches and I look around the nest again. I notice a bowl of fresh water and berries placed on a flat rock, which is nestled in the thick bed of laves. I crawl over to the bowls and stare at them. Well, I guess I’ll be eating healthily for however long I’m up here. And what is this, day six? Wow, nearly been here for a week, and I’m the idiot that got kidnapped. Well done Saph, you’re a genius!

A small snuffling sound on my shoulder tells me Tenrec is still there. He trundles out from my hair and yawns, showing off a row of tiny teeth. Daw, he’s so cute. I pick up a berry and offer it to him. He takes it and starts nibbling away at the juicy flesh. My blue eyes rove around the nest for Fossa, but she isn’t there. Frowning, I eat the rest of the berries, saving a couple more for Tenrec, and then drink the water, leaving a small puddle for Tenrec. I then lift the yellow and black critter off my shoulder and place him onto the rock, where he starts to nibble at the other berries. An ache in my lower abdomen makes me wince, and it dawns on me that I haven’t gone to the toilet for a while. Oh great.

“Good morning Little Pig,” It chirps.

“Might be good for you, but I’m tired, in pain and I need to pee,” I growl.

“I guess my Little Pig isn’t a morning person,” It leers. “Aw, how sad.”

“I’m not freaking joking, I need to go to the toilet, bad,” I growl, the same time my abdomen does. This makes my face go bright red, but since I can’t see It, I don’t even know if they’re a person, or real. Maybe I’m dead, but then I wouldn’t feel pain. Unless I’m in hell. That would make more sense.

“Well I can’t trust you down there, you’ll run first chance you get,” It snaps.

“Yes, I will,” I narrow my eyes. “But you’ll just find me again anyway.”

“Oh, that is true, I am very quick. And smart,” It sounds very smug. “Alright then, lie down and close your eyes.”

“Why the fu –“

“Do as I say,” It snarls.

Growling in frustration, I lie down in the leaves and close my eyes. I hear the sound of a large body hitting the leaves near me and tense up, keeping my eyes firmly shut. Something touches my hair, and I’m lifted into a sitting position, where something cold is placed over my face, and tied around my head. I open my eyes to blackness. Blindfolded, damn. And then I feel arms around me and I’m hoisted into the air. A scream escapes my lips and I flail my arms about.

“Hold still!” It hisses right in my ear. This makes me freeze in fear. This close, I can smell It. And their voice is more distinguishable now. It is a He, and he smells like the jungle, like new leaves and the earth before it rains. It’s an oddly comforting smell. Even though I’m being carried by an unknown man who kidnapped me. “Now, wrap your arms around my neck, it’s always harder taking someone down.”

I do as he says, and wrap my arms around his neck, after feeling across a broad chest and thickly chorded shoulders first. His hair is long and dreaded, and I feel course hair on my cheek where my face is pressed against his. Definitely a man, unless this is a woman that has really let herself go. I refrain from asking, afraid he might decide to drop me out of the tree.

“I’m going to give you an hour, Little Pig, so you better use that time wisely,” It says gruffly as he starts to climb down the tree, one arm securing my body to his.

“What’s your name?” I ask instead of all the other things I could have retorted.

“Why would I tell you that?” It asks.

“Because … I’m calling you It in my head. Like the clown from the movie It,” I tell him.

I can hear him gritting his teeth. “I’m sure that amuses you greatly, Little Pig,” he bites out.

“Well, not really,” I admit. I think it’s the comforting smell that of the jungle that has me relaxed. “The movie scared me. And you scared me too.”

“Good,” It growls.

“I’m still going to run away,” I retort sharply.

After a while of huffing as It climbs further down the tree, he sighs. “My name is … Carlisle,” he tells me.

“Is it actually or did you just make it up then?” I snap, trying to turn my head to face his, but I get a face full of beard instead.

“No, that’s actually my name,” Carlisle snaps. “So, what’s your name, Little Pig?”

“I don’t know if I wanna tell you now, I think Little Pig is growing on me,” I tease.

“I could start calling you worse,” Carlisle hisses.

“Fine, fine,” I huff. “My name is Saphire, although I prefer Saph.”

“Sapphire, as in the gem?”

“Yeah, but it’s spelt with only one ‘p’,” I roll my eyes. “My mother or father or whoever named me must have been pretty high on drugs at the time to forget the second ‘p’,” I grumble. “So whenever I’d write my name, people would think I was spelling it wrong. Saying Saph is so much easier.”

Carlisle chuckles. “You know, Saph, when you start talking, you don’t really know how to shut up,” he leers.

“And I think you’re an arsehole, we’re even,” I retort.

Silence stretches between us, and finally I hear Carlisle grunt as we hit the ground. My feet jolt in protest and I wince, my arms tightening around Carlisle’s neck. He wheezes and rips them off him.

“You are going to go to the toilet, and maybe you should bathe, you smell pretty bad –“

“Arsehole,” I snap.

“And I’ll be back in an hour. I’d also suggest you drink plenty of water because it gets quite hot during the middle of the day,” Carlisle says, voice starting to grow fainter.

“Can I take the blindfold off now?” I call.

Silence meets my words so I take that as a yes. I pull off the blindfold to find that it’s a piece of black cloth. It feels soft and velvety, and it smells like flowers. I wrap the piece of cloth around my neck in a sort of kerchief, like in the movies, and start walking toward the sound of water. As I walk, I’m joined by Fossa, who rubs her body against my legs and I bend down to ruffle her fur. She licks my fingers before darting off, and I follow. I only wish I had Tenrec here. Going on an adventure without him isn’t quite the same.

Finding a pool of water fed by a stream, I scout the place out before finding a thick bush to relieve myself. That done, I go back to the pool and take my clothes off. I wash them thoroughly and lay them out to dry before I was myself. Grabbing some sand, I rub it over my skin, getting rid of the dirt and whatever else was on my skin. I do the same with my scalp and then start combing through my hair with my fingers, pulling out twigs and clumps of dirt. The water turns a slight shade of red and I put my hand to my head. It comes away red, and I start to freak out. Ducking under the water, I wash the bloody area gently, and explore the cut with my fingers. It’s small, just above my ear, and scabbed over. Satisfied that I won’t die of blood loss, and the wound is clearly a day or so old, I rise out of the water and lie down to dry myself.

I watch as animals run through the dense canopies above, and smile warmly. Realising I probably don’t have a lot of time left, I get up, and put my clothes back on. They’re slightly damp, but I don’t care. I go over to the stream and have a drink, before turning to Fossa, who lifts her head from her paws to yip at me.

“Right, it’s time to go,” I say with finality.

She leaps to her feet and I follow her as she lopes easily through the plants and bushes. I’m very glad to be able to stretch my legs and run like this. After a while the trees start to thin, and hope rises in my chest. Have I gotten to the beach? Then I’ll be safe and I can get back to everyone else, and Chris! Oh how I’d love to see that smile of his again … oh.

The jungle stops, and a large field of grass presents itself to me. All the hope I’d felt dies, and I try to ignore the way my chest tightens and my throat closes up. Shaking my head, I let an angry glare mask my face before taking a step onto the grass. Fossa doesn’t follow, looking rather uncomfortable where she is now. I turn to her and smile reassuringly.

“You can wait for me in the jungle, I’m only going to look around,” I tell her.

She turns around and darts off. Knowing she’ll be watching me, I trot further away from the jungle. I spot a river and run over to it. I drop to my knees and start drinking greedily, my mouth slavering and my lungs dry from all the running. A strange sound makes me pause and I look up. My heart stops for a second before kick starting at an alarming pace. Excitement shoots through my veins, and my eyes widen in awe. Standing on the other side of the river is a horse.

The horse stands at least sixteen hands high, which is a very tall horse. It has a brown and white face with a huge splotch of white on its side. Its mane and tail are a lovely black, and the silky strands hang in long waves down its neck and face. The horse’s large brown eyes watch me curiously, and I look around, wondering how I can get to it, and how I can gain its trust.

Biting my lip, I sit back and the horse lifts its head, brown and white ears twitching. I whistle shrilly, and the horse throws its head in the air before turning around to trot away. Frowning, I stand up and head back to the jungle. Fossa is waiting for me with wide eyes and I ruffle her fur before we head back to the tree I’m being held captive. I would have tried to escape, but not without Tenrec.

“You’ve been gone for two whole hours, Saph,” Carlisle’s voice holds a note is disapproval.

“Bite me,” I snap, tying the piece of cloth over my eyes. “I couldn’t leave Tenrec.”

There is silence from Carlisle. I wait for him to pick me up and I wrap my arms around his neck as he lifts me up and puts me on his back. He starts to climb upwards, and as I rest my head on his shoulder, I think of that horse. I’m going to visit the horse every day. Well, maybe I should negotiate with Carlisle to see if I can have at least three of so hours on the ground, and I’ll have a wash, go to the toilet, and go see the horse. My goal for the next week to be able to touch it.

“So where were you, I lost your tracks when the trees began to thin,” Carlisle tries to sound casual, but I know he’s aggravated that I was able to lose him. Good.

“I found a meadow,” I tell him.

“Oh, that place,” he shrugs. “Yeah, there are some pretty interesting creatures there too.”

“I found a horse,” I let my smugness colour my voice.

“No, you found the devil of this place,” Carlisle corrects, and fear jabs my chest.

Before I have time to ask about what he said, I’m placed on the leafy bed and wait for a full minute and then take the cloth off my face. I tie it around my neck and rush over to greet Tenrec. He trundles over to me and I pick him up, placing him on my shoulder. He snuffles my ear and makes his little noises.

“I’m sorry I left you, Tenrec, I’ll bring you along next time,” I promise.

And when Carlisle returns, I’m going to negotiate some ground time with him.

My brain hurt. Maybe it was the gash above my ear, but I swore it was my brain. When we got to the clearing where Blue had disappeared, everyone began to throw questions at me like they were footballs, but hard and fast and way over my head. Didn't they know I was a stupid-ass jock? They oughtta know.

My eyes flitted to my high school football jacket; the one that I'd thrown over Summers's body the night before. I could see the M, the A, and a little of the H, but the rest was crinkled and indistinguishable.

I let them shout at me for about two seconds before I lost my temper. I didn't use to be such a hot head. "Hey!" I yelled, loud and quarterback-like. "I'll explain, if you just stay quiet and listen."

The shouting lessened to a murmuring disquiet. I didn't know where the girl from before had gone. Hawaii-Minnesota, or whichever state. I didn't worry too much about it. Everyone looked at me, stared, and some idiot had the audacity to ask, "Are you okay?" Pointing to behind my ear. I brought my hand up and came away with blood.

"It's not my blood," I said, pursuing that lie. Who gave a damn. Then I stood up straight and tall and rubbed my shoulder. "Yesterday afternoon, me and Blue and uh, Summers, well, —Brandon, or Brayden Summers, and Sarah—Saph—and me, we came out to see this village."

"You and who?" Some smart-ass idiot said.

"Village? Where?" At least three people asked, and before they could erupt in conversation, I continued.

"Yeah, just back that way," I said, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder. "There's water down there, and shit like that. There're some places to live, and it's pretty prehistoric-age stuff, but I think we could make camp there." The murmur of the crowd increased. I raised my voice. All I could think about was finding Blue. "I know," I said. "It would be a big decision for everyone to make. Leaving the beach could be suicide. But at this point, our chances of rescue are pretty much zip."

This caused absolute chaos. "What do you mean?" P.J. asked. The others were confused and scared, shouting amongst one another. "There's probably lots of things we haven't tried yet. What about making a raft?" There was an uproar of agreement.

"Yeah, a raft!" Someone cheered. There was some short-lived excitement. It was infuriating, and my muscles tensed, and my fists clenched.

"None of it matters," I said over them. I was losing them. "Unless we find her. We're not just gonna leave her out there alone." I cleared my throat. "We find her, and then you can do whatever you want."

"How'd he die?" A girl whispered from the front. It quieted down. Eyes fled to Summers's body, wrapped in my jacket.

My stomach tightened. "It was an accident," I said, putting my hand on the back of my head, fixing my hat. Then I looked up. All business, Chris. "Let's move out. Spread out. Make sure you know which way you came. If you find anything— a trail, a sign, whatever—make it back here. We'll regroup every two hours."

I could tell they wanted to know more, about Summers, about the village, but I pressed on. "Make sure you stick to the buddy system, and all that. Wouldn't want you little boys and girls getting lost."

One guy asked what she looked like. "I don't know," I said. I put a hand under my chin. "'Bout this high, brown hair, pretty blue eyes. Just look for a girl all alone in the jungle," I cracked, even though it wasn't funny. "That'll be the one."

After several unanswered inquiries, everyone started off. Once they were gone, I turned around, almost bumping into Alaska-Hawaii. "There you are," I said to her. She looked faint and nauseous, and leaned heavily on her crutch. Her eyes were staring at Summers's body. "Come on," I told her, and stepped between her and the scene.

Then I walked into the jungle, and she followed. We moved at a slower pace than I would've liked, but I didn't complain. "So what really happened?" She asked me finally, her voice shaking a little.

"What?"

"How did he die?" Her voice caught in her throat, her eyes glanced behind her, and she stumbled over some weeds. She caught herself.

I shrugged, feigning impassivity. "It doesn't matter."

Her hands were trembling, and she avoided my eyes. "Well, shouldn't we do something with his body?"

I threw my arms up, because all of it was too much. "Christ, I don't know. What do you want to do with it?"

She jumped when I raised my voice. After a moment, she turned and stared at me, her eyes wide and teary and brown. "Don't you care? Don't you care that he's dead? That they're all dead?"

I walked with more of a purpose, striding and stepping over an overturned log. "Yeah, but it's not like I'm gonna go on bawling my eyes out about it."

She looked pained and I guess she didn't catch that I was hiding literally every single thing I felt at that moment. "We should have a funeral," she said suddenly.

"Yeah?" I wasn't paying attention, I was looking for any sign of Blue coming through this way. In the trees, on the ground.

She must have noticed, but she didn't call me out. She was calming down a little. "Was that your jacket?" She asked softly, tentatively. "That was over his body?"

"Yup," I said, about five steps ahead of her.

She shook her head. "It said Mahoney on the back. Or something with an M. I don't know...it was hard to see." Her voice wavered slightly. It was hard to see. She didn't mean the name, I was pretty sure.

"Yeah, so?"

"Your last name. You said it was Charles."

I didn't blink. "I borrowed the jacket from my friend. This guy back home. A few days before we left, on game day. The capital G, capital D, you know. I guess I grabbed the wrong one before we left." I didn't know why I kept lying to her. I was just digging myself a deeper hole; that's what my mom would say. "What's it to you, NYC?"

She shrugged, looking confused. We walked on for a while longer, looking around for anything suspicious. Not that either of us really knew what we were looking for. We walked until we could no longer hear anyone else, until we were alone in the jungle.

It was eerie, the crickets chirping, the trees all looking the same. I had tried walking in a straight line. I hope we hadn't strayed one way or the other. I could tell Hawaii was getting creeped out; the way her eyes darted behind her every two seconds. "Don't worry," I said to her, my voice all confidence, trying to make her feel better. "You're safe with me."

She paused. "They weren't," she said after a second.

My insides twisted. My face got hot. I looked away. She glanced at me, her steps getting smaller, her face falling.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I mean, I didn't mean to—"

"Let's just keep moving." I walked up ahead of her. She hastily caught up to me, surprisingly quick despite her injury. I guess she didn't want to be left behind.

"I didn't mean it," she said again. "I'm sorry." I didn't say anything. "Ace..." She didn't like it when I ignored her. I could tell she was thinking of something to say to me. In the mean time she stayed about a step behind me.

I stepped past a thicket of thorns and a bunch of what looked like dead flowers. I heard a ripping sound, and I looked down, behind me. I saw the tear that a branch must have made in the right back pocket of my jeans. It was about an inch or two wide. "Damn," I muttered.

Hawaii looked at me, noticing what happened. She kind of suppressed a weak smile. "Your pants ripped," she told me. Her tone said, I'm sorry.

"I hate jeans. They're all uncomfortable," I mumbled, trying to get a look at the rip again. I forgive you.

"Doesn't make sense why you wear them." Her voice was meek, appeasing, a little frightened.

"Yeah, you just drive me over to the shopping complex, babe," I said, checking out the rip and deeming it insignificant. Her nose scrunched up as if she was caught off guard. Then she seemed to dismiss whatever she was thinking about.

"When are we gonna get rescued?" She asked me suddenly, wringing her hands, looking around. We had stopped in a small clearing for a water break.

I sighed, having about enough of the questions I couldn't answer. "Chill out, LA. Let's worry about finding the kidnapped girl in the jungle, then we can freak about getting off the deserted island," I deadpanned.

She paused, and then she turned on me. "Are you serious?" She asked, incredulous, her voice rising an octave. My eyebrows arched at the sudden outburst. She was obviously terrified, shaken. She looked around. Tears were coming to her eyes. "I mean, people are dead, and we're in this terrible place. Nobody knows what to do, or how to do it, or...and we're all alone." Her eyes were getting hysterical. "Maybe," she said, "maybe, nobody's even coming. Have you ever thought of that, that maybe we're not getting rescued?" She stared at the ground, eyes wide, about to burst into tears. "Aren't you scared?" She asked, and looked up at me.

I met her gaze. Her curls were messy and wild like her eyes, and she hugged her arms to her body. It took all I had not to say Yes, I'm fucking terrified. But as much as she thought that was what she wanted to hear, it wasn't. There had to be somebody that wasn't scared shitless to keep everyone from breaking to pieces. That's what it was like in film; there was always a badass leader who said to hell with being scared and led everyone to safety.

Jesus, it never turned out like the movies.

"I guess, a little," I admitted. A vast understatement. "But, hey, don't worry. In no time, we'll be on the rescue boat and you'll be teasing me about how I ripped my pants."

She looked at me for a moment, like she was unsure about whether to smile at my effort, or just break down and cry in front of me. She kind of smiled furtively, if you could call it a smile. "There we go," I said with a crooked smile that didn't feel right on my face, not knowing what I would have done if she cried. "There's that pretty smile."

She tried to wipe her eyes so I couldn't see. "I don't know how you can be so calm about all this," she remarked.

I laughed. "I'm good under pressure. I'm a quarterback." I brought my arm back and made a throwing motion. I looked at where the imaginary ball flew to. "What a throw," I muttered, "what a catch." I stared at a tree about ten yards away, my hands on my knees.

Then I jumped up to my feet. I spun to the left, holding my arm out, and then faked the other way. "33 open. At the six." I dove to the right and extended my arms, pretending to tuck the ball under my arm. "Oh, and what an amazing catch! He fakes out the defensive tackle." I side-shuffled my feet and then took off down the tree line. "And he takes off down the sideline! He's going! And he's going! Man, I've never seen a guy this fast in my life! He's at the forty."

I was breathing hard, running in a relative circle, my tongue poking out of my mouth. "The thirty. The twenty! He's at the five! And it's a touchdown, it is a touchdown, God Almighty it's a touchdown!" I pretended to spike the ball in the grass, whooping and yelling. "And that makes the score Packers 20, Steelers 17!" I slid on the ground and rolled over onto my back. I cupped my hands around my mouth and pretend to be the cheering fans.

I closed my eyes and made my voice extra deep and announcer-like. "This means that next week, The Packers will advance to the Super Bowl against the winner of the seven o'clock game. And let's review that play again. It may just be the best in football history." I exhaled, my eyes still closed, still laying on the ground.

Hawaii was looking at me from the log she was sitting on, a tear or two dried to her cheeks, a weird look on her face, grinning a little, and I could tell she forgot for a moment how bad things were.

Ezra Dexter

Nothing.
The raven-haired girl saw nothing, as if she was blindfolded.
Without seeing, she could tell that she was alone, wherever she was. Where was she?

She had been with her boyfriend in the bathroom of the airplane, smushed against eachother while carefully fondling one another in the small space they had- and then the plane jumped, sending Ezra and Elvis into a momentary panic.
"Turbulence," Elvis muttered, pressing his lips to his lover's neck once more. This trip to africa was supposed to be relaxing- a perfect getaway from his disapproving parents and her own distant guardians.
Ezzie felt at home with Elvis. He was her rock, always there to support her, and to calm her down when she started slipping into frantic german, to make her feel like she was the prettiest girl in the world.
He didn't even run away when she told him she was pregnant, and if her parents found out, they'd disown her. He accepted her fully. He promised to take care of her. And he promised to marry her.
Now, in the small cube of a bathroom, Ezzie was running her fingers through Elvis's soft blonde hair, hugging him to her as the plane swayed back and forth.
They dismissed the turbulence without a thought- until it happened again.
And didn't stop.

Now, she felt something (dirt? sand?) crusting to her bare stomach, her feet were wet.
Fingers traveled slowly upwards toward her head to brush away damp hair, only to touch the soaked cotton of her t-shirt.
Oh, Ezzie thought, no wonder. Her shirt had somehow wound it's way over her face, and covered her vision.
Pulling it away, she made a list of everything she noticed. One, She was alone on a small stretch of beach, a cove of sorts, with the greenest trees she had ever seen lining the span of sand, secluding her from the rest of wherever she was. Two, Elvis was gone, as was the plane. Maybe he was just dropped somewhere else? Three, Ezzie was starving. She was sure her last meal had been the day before; a half of a sandwich at the airport while waiting for the plane.
She sat up slowly, wincing as she did, pain blossoming in her behind her eyes. She wondered what had happened. Obviously, turbulence, then the plane was spiraling out of control and Elvis was holding her, sobbing into her hair, then caging her against him, swearing to protect her if it was the last thing he did.
As far as Ezzie knew, it was the last thing he did.
That dark though came from nowhere, and wrenched her heart from her chest.
And then she suddenly found herself sobbing. Curling into herself and clutching her stomach, crying for the tiny soul inside of her, for it's lost father, for her own dark past.
For the lives lost in the crash. For Elvis.
But mostly, Ezzie cried for herself.

Saph

The jungle suddenly goes quiet, and I sit up, shaken from my daze. I look around, wondering what's going on. Fossa is nowhere to be seen, and Tenrec is asleep on my shoulder. I slowly ease myself into a standing position and walk over to the wall of vines. I try to push them apart, and succeed in managing a small hole. I peer through, but all I see is a branch, more jungle, and a weird, shrub-like thing in the middle of the branch. I'm about to turn away, when the shrub like thing moves. It shakes and stands up, balancing with its feet. Wait, what?

It takes me a small second to realise I'm looking at Carlisle's back. He has a cape of shrubbery on his back, which would constitute for his "invisibility", and cargo pants that have seen better days. His brown-blonde hair is a long mass of dreadlocks, reaching to the middle of his back. He is tall, and his body is broad. I wouldn't be surprised if he's super fit and muscly. I wouldn't want to mess with him, especially without my knife.

Carlisle holds up his arm, and a shadow falls over him. I stare in amazement as a giant bird comes gliding over to him and lands on his arm, which is wrapped in thick leather. The bird is huge! It has thick, dark brown feathers dotted with gold, an elegant head with a strong looking beak, and a crest of longer feathers around it's head, reminding me of a bustard. It has large, mahogany eyes that are trained on Carlisle's face. He murmurs a few things to the giant bird of prey, and hands it a rat. The bird takes the rat and swallows it whole, before opening its wings. Before it takes off, its eyes dart to me, and I let out a squeak of surprise and fall away from the wall of vines. I hear it flap its wings to take off, and then silence. After a few moments, the sounds of the jungle return, and I ponder that.

Is the giant bird the natural predator of all the other animals? It isn't as big as the Condor, but close to. And the Condor preys on howler monkeys. Freaking howler monkeys! I bet this bird eats lemurs as an entre dish, and the fossa as the main course. Oh shit, Fossa! Crap! I have to get down from here! Or get Fossa up here. But if she's survived this long, surely she'd know how to hide from the giant bird.

"Saph," Carlisle's voice brings me from my thoughts.

"Carlisle," I look around, and spot half of his back, leaning casually against the trunk of the tree. "Your accent if getting thicker."

"What?" Carlisle laughs. "Sweetie, I don't have an accent."

Actually, come to think of it, he does. It's very faint, but I can hear the lilt in his words and how he struggles saying words with the "th" sound. And when he says "I", it sounds slightly like "oi". Oh my gosh, he's Irish!

"Does it snow much where you're from?" I ask.

"Saph, shut up before I hurt you," he growls.

I clamp my mouth shut. And hurt me he could. After a moment's silence, I lean against the trunk and glare up at him. Should I tell him I can see him? Or should I let him think he stills has that advantage over me? That may come in handy, actually.

"I want to make some negotiations," I begin.

Carlisle shifts, turning slightly toward me. I avert my gaze and glare at a spot further away from him. "Negotiations? Saph, I don't think you're in any position to -"

"Actually, I am. I'm a girl with needs. And unless you want to have the snappy bitch from hell, a.k.a. Satan, terrorising you every day, then I suggest you hear me out," I put as much aggression into my voice as possible, even though I'm shitting bricks because of how scared I am.

Carlisle sighs. "Alright, what do you want?" He bites out in defeat.

"I want at least five hours on the ground every day," I start.

"No," he snaps.

"Four?" I squeak.

"One. You have enough time to go to the loo, and wash yourself, and meet me back at the tree," Carlisle disappears behind the tree.

"No, Carlisle, wait!" I plead. "Let me have at least four hours. I'm not going to try and run away."

His bitter laughter makes me cringe. Carlisle returns to his spot, shoulder against the tree trunk, his shoulders shaking as he laughs. "Oh, if I haven't heard that one before," he leers.

There it is again, his accent coming through. And all this time I thought he was English! Goes to show how good I am with accents!

"Wait, so you've kidnapped people before?" I ask.

He growls. "No!" He says indignantly. "Look, you're not having more than an hour on the ground -"

"What if I have some way to guarantee I won't run away?" I cut him off.

"Like what?" He asks, intrigued. "Oh, and if you cut me off again, I'll cut off your tongue."

"Jeez, you Irish are so violent," I mutter, and smirk when Carlisle growls. "I could ... Err ... Um ..." I struggle to think of something.

"How about the tenrec. That can stay," Carlisle says smugly.

"No! I promised him I'd bring him on my next adventure!" I cry.

"Well, what the hell can I use to stop you from running off?" Carlisle snarls.

Before I can answer, I hear some yelling. It's faint, and I can't make out what's being said, but I instantly recognise the voice. It's Chris.

"Chris?" I yell. I don't get a response, but the yelling continues. "Chris! Chris I'm over here!" I'm screaming now. "Chris!"

I hear the sound of a large body hitting the leaves behind me and a warm hand claps over my mouth. I tense up, feeling Carlisle's body pressed against my back. Fear shoots through my veins, and my jaw clamps shut.

"I suggest you don't do that," he says, voice low and menacing, right near my ear. His accent is thicker when he uses that tone. The tone that means I better stop or I'll get hurt. The tone Mum would use when I misbehaved. "That is, unless you want me to hurt your Idiot Friend."

I don't make a sound, and I don't move. I close my eyes and keep my jaw clenched. Tears burn my eyes and slide down my cheeks, unbidden, and soak into Carlisle's hand. It takes me a moment to realise that his hand isn't covering my mouth anymore, but in fear, I don't move and keep my eyes tightly shut.

"Saph, why are you crying?" Carlisle's voice is further away now.

I unclench my jaw and take a couple of shuddering breaths. "My m-m-mother would use that tone of v-v-voice when I did something wrong. And then she'd hur-hur-hur-hurt me," I whimper. "I don't mean to b-b-be this w-w-way, but I can't h-h-help it."

"What do you mean?" I can hear sincerity in his voice.

"I ... I have S-S-Social Anxiety Disord-d-der," I stammer. "And it makes me act oddly. I c-c-can't interact with people, and I can't d-d-do a lot of the things normal people c-c-can do. I freak out easily an-an-an-and I'm considered to-to-to-to be very f-f-fragile."

"Is that ... Is that why you stutter?" Carlisle asks.

"Yeah, wh-wh-wh-wh-wh ... Wh-wh-wh-wh ..." I can't get the word out, my stutter is so bad. I just settle for a meek, "Yeah."

Carlisle is so quiet for the longest of times that I wonder if he's still there. I sit down, eyes opening, and touch my face where my tears have dried up. My hand instantly goes to my ankle, but I don't have my boots on and I don't have my knife. I really hope Chris has it, and I can get it back.

"Four hours of ground time, but if you make any signs of running off, I will cut it down to one hour a day, and I'll be watching your every move," Carlisle finally says, making me jump.

"Really?" I look up, smiling.

"Really," Carlisle bites out. "Don't make me regret trusting you."

"You might not," I tell him.

"Might?" He asks, voice stern. "Tell you what, I'll up it to five hours if you tell me about your life each afternoon."

This catches me off guard. "Okay," I furrow my brow. "Why?"

"I haven't heard anything about the outside world for nearly fifteen years. I'll tell you about my life, you tell me about yours, and I'll let you have five hours of ground time," Carlisle says.

I could totally be a negotiator for Australia with these new skills. "Deal," I nod.

"Good. You're first," Carlisle sounds very amused.

"What?" I bark.

"You're first, Saph. Tell me about your life," he urges.

"Oh ... Erm, well, I was um ... I was born in Queensland, the north eastern state of Australia, but I grew up in Western Australia, where my mother was born. She bought a little cottage in a small town called Cowaramup, in the cheese and wine region of Australia. The first five years of my life, Mum and I were really close. We'd spend every day together, just us two. Mum kinda didn't want to send me to school, and tried to get a permit to homeschool me, but her parents talked her out of it and she sent me to Cowaramup Primary School. I actually like it there, it was a small, close-knit community and everyone was nice to me. But because everyone knew everything about everyone, it started to put a strain on Mum. She grew her own veggies, we had our own chickens that I'd get into trouble for chasing every day, and we had no car, choosing to walk wherever we needed. We would walk into town each week to get what we couldn't make ourselves, like sugar, dairy, clothes, paper, internet credit, and other stationary. We had a simple, secluded life. Until I started school.

"Apparently, people started wondering why we were so secluded, why it was just us two, and why Mum never spoke to people. I'd get asked about Mum by my teachers at school, but I would always say the same thing. Mum is how she is, just like you're how you are. It was getting too much for Mum really quickly, and she started looking for a new place to live. Then one day, this man came knocking on our door. He looked very sad, and told Mum that my father had died. She was very confused for a while, and then got really mad. She started throwing things around and screaming. Then she started to cry. I was so afraid and confused when she acted like this. She never yelled at me or hit me or cursed at me, but she did talk to me less. After a while she went back to her usual self, and I asked her about Dad. She just said he captured her heart and left me with her while he went away to work. I was all she had left of him. Well, me and his income.

"Soon enough, Mum had to get a job. So, we packed everything up, and we moved to the city. And that's the end of chapter one," I conclude my story and smile up at the trees. "It's your turn now, Carlisle."

"Did you know you sound very confident and strong when you're telling a story," Carlisle sounds amused.

"Really?" I smile softly at that.

"Yep," Carlisle chuckles. "Okay, Little Sapphire, I'll tell you my story. I was ... Uhm, I was born in a ... A um, a small town in north Ireland -"

"I knew it!" I cheer.

"Alright, shut up. I didn't interupt your story. Anyway, my parents were low income fishers, and I grew up with my three older brothers and younger sister. Me sister Matty and I were the closest out of the five of us. We did everything together. We used to go out to the marshes and catch frogs. Then, we'd take them to the markets every Saturday, and sell them for a few pence. My ma ... Uhm, my mother let us set up our frog stall next to hers, where she'd sell the fish Pa and my older two brothers would catch. I didn't get much of an education until I was about ten. Matty and I started school together and we learnt to read and write. Matty loved the numbers, and I loved the words. Later on in life, I went to the fancy university in America to study English literature. Anyway, I remember one day when Matty and I were in the marshes, we found this huge frog. She was bigger than any of the frogs we'd caught so far. I knew she would lay her eggs soon, so I carried her over to an enclosed pool, and brought over the biggest male frog we could find. We would come back every day to check on the frogs. And then, a week later, the female frog layed her eggs. Matty and I would watch each morning as the eggs became tadpoles, and the tadpoles grew bigger and bigger and became tailed frogs. We brought a bowl down and collected them ... well, as much as we could manage. We took them back to our house, and put them in the pond. A few weeks later, we had some really big frogs in there, and we'd catch the smaller ones and leave the two biggest, and sell them at the market. Then we'd go back to the marsh and get two more big frogs. Anyway, we did that for a few years and upped our prices to an Irish pound for a frog. We made a great profit with our frogs, but then I became old enough to go out on the boats with Dad and my brothers. I think I was about sixteen at that stage. I took some books along with me to keep up my English, and worked on the boats for a few years. And that's the end of chapter one," Carlisle chuckles. "Not bad for a start."

"So ... You're a fisherman with a degree in English lit?" I ask.

"I'm a qualified skipper, I can drive just about any boat. I'm not a fisherman. I stopped that years back. But that's chapter three or whatever," Carlisle pauses. "But I didn't do much with my degree in English literature. My true calling is boats."

"Argh, ya scurvy sea dog!" I growl in the most gutteral, pirate-like way possible.

Carlisle laughs. "We weren't pirates, you dolt. But I have come across some before," he tells me.

"Ooh, is that chapter twelve?" I ask.

"That's enough story time, go to sleep or whatever you teenagers do these days," Carlisle snaps.

"Well, I'd probably grab something to eat and watch TV, or I'd go for a jog, or ... Maybe do some drawing, or reading, or even -"

"Okay, I get your damn point, shut up!" Carlisle yells.

"And that's what I get for opening up to someone," I huff.

"I'm sorry, you just don't know how to shut your mouth," Carlisle laughs.

"You're still an arsehole," I retort.

"Well, I'm off. I'll bring you something to eat, too," Carlisle's voice starts to fade away. "And water. I'll need some of that damn paper, too. Giant leaves? What if I ..."

Gone. Once again I'm all alone. Well, I have Tenrec and my thoughts. So I'm not completely alone. But Carlisle's story intrigues me. I wonder how he got here, and how old he is. Or how long he's been here. Does he have a family? Children? Is there anyone in the outside world waiting for him to come home. And what about Matty, and his older brothers. I'm glad I have patience, because these questions would drive me mad otherwise. I'm gonna get a couple answered tomorrow, so I can rest easy knowing that.

I lie down on the leaves and stare up at the canopy above. I start to hum to myself as I let my eyes droop shut. And then I remember hearing Chris's voice and leap to my feet. I run to the edge of the nest and pull the vines apart to look through at the jungle below. I've probably missed them. Damn. And I could have been saved. Although, now I know what I'm up against, I really hope Chris is armed. Carlisle looks like he can seriously fuck shit up, especially with that bird.

Speaking of, that bird is going to be my downfall. I know it.

Alaska stumbled after Ace, or whatever his name was, and stared cautiously at the barren trees, thick underbrush, and dark corners. They were putting themselves in danger. For a girl. Several people were missing. Several people were dead. Yet, they were looking for one girl. One specific girl. All because this boy couldn't keep his eye on her when they were out here in the first place. Fear began to grow in the pit of Alaska's stomach. What if he wasn't enough to protect her?

"Don't worry," His voice suddenly rang through her ears, in a reassuring tone, "You're safe with me."

Alaska avoided his eyes, and wanted to avoid him, but decided that it wouldn't be for the best if she did that, "They weren't."

They weren't.

It took her a moment, but finally, she glanced at him. His neck was red. He'd turned away. He wasn't denying anything.

"Sorry," No she wasn't. "I mean, I didn't mean to—"

"Let's just keep moving," He mumbled, and walked ahead. Leaving her behind. In the dark. Alaska blinked, and scurried along, determined not to lose him, since he was better than nothing.

"I didn't mean it," Yes she did. "I'm sorry." He stayed quiet. "Ace..." The silence seeped into her ears, the soft 'click-click' from a nearby creature echoed throughout the woods, and another animal chattered loudly nearby. Alaska slowed down just the slightest, after deciding that he didn't want to speak. Maybe he didn't like the truth. She almost scoffed.

After watching the boy almost step past a large bush that had hundreds of sharp little sticks--or, thorns--but, unfortunately, his pants caught ahold of them. And he pulled forward. Meaning that he, the mighty 'Ace Charles' had just ripped his pants.

"Damn," He mutters-- the first word he'd said in about 10 minutes. Alaska suppresses a smile.

"Your pants ripped," She stated blankly, as if he didn't know-- afterwards, she took note of how she'd said it in the same tone of voice as she would use for an apology. Was she apologizing subconsciously? Did she actually feel bad about that?

"I hate jeans. They're all uncomfortable," He mumbles after a moment, and she recognized his tone, as well-- he'd used it before, if not for the same reason. He was forgiving her, wasn't he? He shouldn't be.

Alaska took another glance at the woods, and the fear in her stomach rose back up to her chest, "Doesn't make sense why you wear them."

"Yeah, you just drive me over to the shopping complex, babe," He said, and pulled at his jeans to examine the rip. Babe? What was that? Paynt, Alaska's younger brother, had once named a pig he'd gotten Babe. Was he calling her a pig? Or did it mean something else in America? America. She missed America. And Paynt. And safety.

"When are we gonna get rescued?" The words slipped out of her mouth as her growing discomfort began to crowd together with the fear. Alaska twisted her fingers together, and avoiding looking at the water. It was tinted a dark color, looking as though it were black. Alaska remembered when her and her brother had fallen into a pit of tar and had to get their heads shaved, plus they had to bathe in steaming hot water laced with medicine leaves to get the scent, and the tar, to go away.

Ace sighed, sounding slightly annoyed, "Chill out, LA. Let's worry about finding the kidnapped girl in the jungle, then we can freak about getting off the deserted island."

Alaska couldn't take it-- the fear, discomfort, anger, curiosity, just all of her emotions crashed together and exploded inside of her body, "Are you serious?" She paused, and the tears began to surface. "I mean, people are dead, and we're in this terrible place. Nobody knows what to do, or how to do it, or...and we're all alone." Her voice felt like it was broken, tipped, taken over by grief. "Maybe," she said, "maybe, nobody's even coming. Have you ever thought of that, that maybe we're not getting rescued?" Alaska flicked her eyes to the ground, attempting to keep the tears concealed. "Aren't you scared?" Her voice wavered, and she looked back up at him.

He, thankfully, locked eyes with her--finally. Although, he just stood there, staring at her. Thinking. Searching for something she wasn't sure she had. Probably thinking of a thousand things he could say. But, he didn't say any of them.

"I guess, a little," He finally admitted, but she couldn't exactly see any stability in the statement. "But, hey, don't worry. In no time, we'll be on the rescue boat and you'll be teasing me about how I ripped my pants."

What to do? Alaska could feel the tears trying to fight their way out, but she was unsure as to whether she should just give up fighting them back. She settled for an almost-smile.

"There we go," He says, as an odd grin replaced his parted lips. "There's that pretty smile."

Alaska wiped at her eyes, knowing that he'd seen the tears that had been ready to escape, but still wanting to hide it because it showed weakness-- her father had always told her that crying was for the ones that were helpless. Useless. He cried when her mother died. "I don't know how you can be so calm about all this," she remarked.

Ace laughed, and the sound of it bounced off of the trees-- Alaska wondered if these woods had ever been blessed with the heartful noise that was called laughter. "I'm good under pressure. I'm a quarterback." He brought his arm back and made a throwing motion. Afterwards, he looked at where the imaginary ball flew to. "What a throw," He muttered, "what a catch." He stared at a tree about ten yards away, his hands on his knees, and the rip in his pants being more noticeable than ever.

Then he jumped to his feet, and started going crazy, pretty much. He was twisting, and spinning, and Alaska was confused but slightly amused because here they were, in the middle of the woods, searching for a girl she had probably never met, and he's what? Pretending he's in a football game? "33 open. At the six." He dove to the right suddenly, and trained his eyes somewhere else, the imaginary ball tucked between his torso and his tanned arm, "Oh, and what an amazing catch! He fakes out the defensive tackle." Ace moves to the side, then takes off, acting as though he really were being chased by a team of sweaty, overly-ecstatic crowd of teenage boys, "And he takes off down the sideline! He's going! And he's going! Man, I've never seen a guy this fast in my life! He's at the forty."

Alaska could hear his heavy breaths from where she was, but he didn't seem to want to stop anytime soon. He continued running in circles, holding the ball, with a pink tongue sticking out of his mouth, "The thirty. The twenty! He's at the five! And it's a touchdown, it is a touchdown, God Almighty it's a touchdown!" He stops, and puts the imaginary ball in the ground, and pretends to kick it, then starts yelling, "And that makes the score Packers 20, Steelers 17!" Ace slides through the thick air, and cups his hands to his mouth, cheering for himself-- as if he were a fan that had been watching the whole time.

From where she was, Alaska could barely see his face, but what she could see was sweat dripping. His chest heaved in and out, attempting to get the steady flow of air back. Ace closes his eyes, and says in a deep voice that's heard over an intercom, "This means that next week, The Packers will advance to the Super Bowl against the winner of the seven o'clock game. And let's review that play again. It may just be the best in football history."

And he's done. Ace lays there, eyes still closed, breathing heavily. Alaska stares at him, wonders about him, asks herself how he could do that-- get so into something in bad situations. How he could just push everything out of his mind at the moment so he can play a good game-- even if it was imaginary.

Alaska stared at the boy, now noticing the small grin playing across her lips, and barely caught a glimpse of him glancing at her.

Could an imaginary football game be the best way to cure a broken heart? Maybe not. But it was trying pretty hard to. Alaska touched her chest, and let out a small laugh. Something so simple, so easy, so useless could make her feel like this? When she knows that her friends are spread out in this jungle, dead or dying? When she knows that there's a crowd of depressed, angry, terrified teens standing around on the beach, waiting for them to come back with news that maybe, just MAYBE they found food, water, or maybe even the girl?

So he was special, yeah? Ace, if that was his name, sat up suddenly, his eyes trained on the trees up above, as if he'd just realized or heard something.

Alaska scrubbed her face with her hands, and stood up, though she stumbled after doing that, as she'd forgotten that her leg was still injured, "What? What's wrong?" she asks, as she stabilizes herself with the two large sticks.

Ace holds up a hand, and jumps up from his spot on the ground, as if he were waiting for something. His eyebrows knitted together, and his lips pushed against themselves.

"Ace, seriously," Alaksa urges, and takes a step towards him, "What-?"

"Listen," He snaps, and cranes his neck upwards again, "Do you hear it?"

No. Alaska stops moving, and lowers her head. Owls. She heard owls. But that couldn't be what he was talking about. A dull throbbing sound pushed against her ears, as if the ringing was trying to come back, but something was fighting it off. A distant monkey screeched-- or, at least she thought it was a monkey. If Monkeys could speak. And say, "Chris." Who's Chris?

Ace Charles was Chris. She'd heard that one kid say "Chri-" before 'Ace' cut them off. Chris. This was Chris. Alaska mentally slaps herself as she remembers that, of course, there was a kid on the football team named Chris. Great.

"Screaming," Alaska mutters, and glances at him. "Is it the girl, Chris?"

He blinks, and barely grasps the fact that she (probably) just called him by his real name, before he takes off running in the direction he thinks he heard the screaming.

"Great," Alaska mumbles, glancing around nervously. How would she catch up with him? He was running. The outline of his body was already disappearing into the shadows of the jungle. She shivers, and begins to stumble through the dark woods until-- well, until she hears crying. Sobbing. Her legs hurt. Her whole body is throbbing. Pain is overwhelming her. The ringing was back, shouting at her, consuming her thoughts-- yet, she could hear someone crying. A girl. How could she hear someone crying, but she couldn't even hear her own heartbeat? "Hello?"

The sobbing ceases for at least 5 seconds, before it starts back up again. Maybe they didn't hear her clearly?

"Hello? Is someone there?" She calls out, though her voice is still hoarse, "Where are you?"

Ruffling of leaves comes from her left, and a loud 'thud' is heard after a moment. Alaska hobbles over to a bush, where a large rock/shrub thing curved over, making a sort of cove. And in that cove?

Alaska feels tears prick at her eyes, as she picks her way through the brush. The girl was pale-- like, extremely pale. Inhumanly pale. Her inky black hair stuck to her blood-matted skin, and her green eyes were wide with fear. Her thin lips trembled and, as if protecting a life of some sort, her hand was clamped to her stomach. Alaska continued to stare until she heard yelling again-- it was 'Ace/Chris'.

"BLUE? BLUE!" He continued to holler, as if he were going to get an answer. His desperate cries indicated that, yes, this girl was of some importance to her. His voice was far off, as if he were miles away. But he wasn't. He couldn't be. Right? Right. They were together not even 10 minutes ago. He couldn't run several miles in a couple of minutes.

Alaska turns back to the girl, and subtly tosses her 'crutches' to the side so she can reach the girl. Her hand shook. She coughed, and held her hand out to the girl, trying to control herself.

"I'm Alaska," She manages to say, as the girl reaches her shaky, bloody arm out to her, "And you don't look too good."

My head cocked itself sideways, and I swore I heard my name. "Chris! Chris!" I heard, far away. I almost didn't catch the words. The voice was meek, desperate, distant—but not that distant. My heart jumped in my chest, and suddenly, my exhaustion was gone and I was fired up. Hawaii was saying something, but I ignored her. I blinked, listening intently.

"Blue!" I yelled, cupping my hands around my mouth. "Blue! Where are you? Blue?" I have to find her. I started to jog off in the direction her voice was coming from. I couldn't miss this opportunity. I almost forgot about Hawaii; I felt a little bad about leaving her alone, but not too bad. I wouldn't be gone for long, and while me being there gave her some muscle, it's not like me leaving would deprive her of any mental strength. It's not like I was the smartest guy in the crowd.

She'd be better off alone than I would.

Hell, I didn't believe that for a second.

But I had to give myself some decent-guy excuse to leave her all alone and run off after Blue.

I dashed through the underbrush, stumbling a few times and nearly tripping over a few mossy logs and stones stuck in the dirt. "Blue!" I yelled again. I imagined her blue eyes all bleary and wet, her hair tangled (the tangled hair always got me), calling out my name. Christ, where is she? My heart slowed down gradually as I came to a stop in the middle of the forest.

My calves burned from running this far, and my stomach growled like a hungry wolf. Holy cow. My hand fell to my abs, and I thought of cheeseburgers, the kind with ketchup and pickles and onions and the rolls with sesame seeds, all juicy and everything. I pushed it out of my mind before I would start biting my damn hand off.

I listened for any sign of her, but all I heard were the sounds of a bird crowing, and the whispering of the leaves. "Dammit," I said, and kicked at the grass. Suddenly, I heard an animal sound about ten feet from where I was standing. My head snapped up, and my heart jumped into my throat. Standing right there, on the other side of the tree line, was a horse.

A goddamn horse.

I was no wildlife expert, but even I was 95% sure that horses didn't live in the jungle. But there it was, sleek and black-maned, loping slowly and gracefully; a few steps forward, a few steps back. It snorted and scuffed at the ground with its hooves.

Jesus, Chris, you need to get some sleep. I decided I had to know if it was real. I gulped and stepped forward slowly, feeling some kind of tentative relationship with the horse like one of those kids on the nature shows, and goddamn, I needed a nap. I approached the horse, and hardly got three steps towards it before it's head elevated abruptly. Its nostrils widened and flared, and then it took off in the other direction, turning quickly around trees and disappearing. After a moment's hesitation, I bolted after it, dodging trees and hanging vines, my legs pumping. "Come back here!" I shouted. "You goddamn jackass!" I thought I saw its black tail snap around the corner of a small cavern.

I ran faster.

The trees blurred to my vision, and it came to the point where I didn't see them until they were directly in front of me. My breaths came more shallow, my chest constricting, my knees aching. Suddenly, I broke past the tree line and into a clearing. I stopped, bending over, my hands on my knees. I focused on my breathing. All my blood rushed to my head. I literally felt like I had no blood left in my feet.

I began to smell something bitter and thick. Smoke. Something was burning. As I was searching for the source, I realized I was standing in a meadow filled with wild flowers and dry, browned grass. The meadow was a hundred acres across at the very least, stretching out in every direction. In all honesty, I had no clue how much an acre was. But it was a big meadow.

Something bright caught my eye. I whipped around, and my mouth fell agape at what I saw.

Thick flames licked up at the trees back the way I came, sending fire extending and exploding in plumes throughout the forest. A black cloud of smoke rose above the fire, so much that the sky had begun to darken. "Jesus fucking Christ," I breathed, because I swore a good bit when I was alone. My face started to burn, and my eyes began to water. "Aw shit." It was moving fast, enveloping the trees and eating everything in its path. Run, I thought to myself.

The fire had already spread too widely for me to attempt to go around. There was only one opening I thought I had any chance of getting through. On only a moment's hesitation, I took off on a dead sprint towards the fire, sweating like crazy, my shirt sticking to me. I ran between the flames, a crackling sound filling my ears, my face feeling like it was burning off like candle wax, like the guy in the one Indiana Jones movie who opened the Covenant.

Just as I broke through the bulk of the orange flame, a snapping was followed by a harsh creaking noise. I looked up, slowing down subconsciously, and my eyes were met by a tree branch dangling precariously above my head. In a second, it started to fall. My breath caught in my throat, and I pushed off my toes and dove forwards.

The blackened branch crashed down behind me, sending me hurtling ahead a few feet in an inferno of flying sparks. I slid on my stomach, and my chin caught on the ground. The bottom of my face went numb for a second before I stumbled to my feet, panting.

I had no time to regroup. The flames were multiplying quicker than I could run. So I sprinted as quickly as I could away from the fire, towards where I had left Hawaii. I suddenly felt an overwhelming pang of guilt at leaving her behind. I thought of her trying to amble back to the beach with her crutch, crying out in pain, her curls all tangled up, and man, was I a full blown jerk. Girls just got me all guilty.

After a mere ten seconds, I noticed my shirt was burning between my arm and my side. I looked down, my eyes widening at the tiny spark under my elbow that was starting to smoke. I hurriedly patted down my stomach and my back; my shirt was signed in about a thousand different places by the time I was finished.

The smoke began to get in my lungs, and I coughed incessantly. My eyes stung, but not too much to fail to see when I arrived back at the place where I'd left Hawaii. My eyes flitted around the area, my head throbbing, the entire jungle spinning. She wasn't there. The area had begun to cloud with thick, white smoke.

"Hawaii!" I shouted, coughing. "AK! Alaska!" The sound of her actual name passing through my lips surprised me. It made me strangely giddy. "Alaska!" I shouted, my voice muffled by the smog. "Alaska!"

I turned around a little, wondering where she'd gone. I caught sight of a human silhouette at the far side of the clearing. Relief filled my chest. "'Laska?" I called, squinting.

My eyes narrowed, and made out inhumanly broad, muscled shoulders. That's not Alaska.

I ran at the man, my heart racing. Before the smoke swallowed him, he turned his head quickly, and I caught sight of a strong jaw and a crinkled forehead. Then he was gone. My eyes looked this way and that, and I started stumbling through the smoke, my shoulders crashing into trees, my hands batting away at the smoke, coughing, coughing. Smoke, thicker smoke, coughing, sputtering, the fire in my nose and in my mouth, my throat closing, my chest collapsing, blind.

Walking, jogging, running, sprinting, colliding and bashing and still looking, searching, every direction, and nothing. I tripped face-first on the ground, catching myself on my knees and elbows. By body slammed into something dark and dense, and I thought I had him, my hands gripping fistfuls of tree bark instead of clothes, and my lungs screamed. My hand found a knot, and then paper, caught up and burning at the corner.

Through the film of smoke and debris in my eyes, I squinted at the page, the letters capitalized and scrawled quickly and silently.

NOW SHE'S MINE.

Saph


Panic seizes my chest. I stare with wide eyes at the smoke billowing into the sky, the flames licking at the tree canopy, heading toward the meadow. What the hell is Carlisle doing? I look at the sky, clouds quickly billowing across. Confusion causes my brow to crease, and my lips to tilt down in a frown. I notice a shape speeding through the trees, against the light of the flames, and realise it’s Carlisle. He heads straight for me, or the tree I’m in, and disappears suddenly. I wait for a moment before calling out to him.

“Carlisle?”

“What?” His voice is close, and he sounds aggravated.

“What is happening?” I look at the flames again. “You’re destroying the jungle!”

“Just wait a moment,” Carlisle sounds smug. The flames grow more, but so do the clouds. I hear a boom, and suddenly it starts to rain. What the hell? “Living here for so long, you learn to recognise a storm hours before it arrives.”

“Storm?” I can’t keep the fear from my voice. “This is a storm?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get rocked around a bit, but I’m sure you’ll survive,” Carlisle sneers. “You’re not afraid of a little rain, are you Saph?”

“No,” I frown again. The rain is starting to get heavier. “I’m just worried about my friends.”

“If this doesn’t kill them, then I’ll lead them to the horse,” Carlisle chuckles bitterly. “I’m sure she’d be grateful to me.”

The horse? I remember Carlisle saying the horse is the devil of this place. What does the horse do?

“Why did you light that fire?” I ask.

“Flush her out,” Carlisle sounds angry now. “She started to come into my jungle.”

“What’s so bad about the horse?”

“What’s so bad about Indigena?” Carlisle sounds bitter. “She’s dangerous. That’s all you need to know. She’ll lull you into a false sense of security, and then you’ll regret ever seeing her.”

“I still don’t –“

CRACK!

I jump out of my skin in fright. The lightning turns the world white in flashing blaze, and I get a full glimpse of Carlisle. The most noticeable thing about him is his vibrant blue eyes. A beard covers half of his face, and he’s wearing a shirt and his cargo pants, a cape of leaves and twigs flowing behind him. And then the world goes darker, rain pelting my body. I’m soaked through and shivering. My hair becomes heavy, and I realise Tenrec is still on my shoulder. I peel my hair back and look at him. He’s shivering, but seems otherwise fine.

“You can hope your Idiot Friends survive this, Saph, but I doubt they will!” Carlisle yells.

“Go to hell!” I yell back.

I don’t get a response, and I know he’s gone. I look around for somewhere dry to hide, but this tree is useless! Frustrated, I just sit down against the trunk and close my eyes. I’m shivering badly, and I curl up, wrapping my arms around my knees. I check on Tenrec again to make sure he’s fine, before closing my eyes again and zoning out.

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

My eyes open to sunlight. I look around and realise I’m not in the tree. I sit up and stretch. Fossa comes running over to me and yips. She jumps on me and licks my face. I giggle and ruffle her fur. Tenrec chitters on my shoulder, making Fossa stop her licking to look at him. I quickly stand up, and look around at where I am. I’m beside the stream. Right then.

I go about my business as quickly as possible, and as soon as my clothes are dry, I put them on. I make my way through the jungle, and come to where the fire was. The trees are mottled black, and smoke comes off some of the trunks and branches. Fossa yips and paces back and forth, just at the edge of the burnt part of the jungle. I look over my shoulder and frown, before continuing on. Tenrec is on the edge of my shoulder, chittering away excitedly, as we walk through the burnt remains of the jungle.

Finally, I get to the meadow. I go over to the river and bend down to have a drink, before standing back up to walk further through the grass. After an hour of walking, I come to a rocky outcropping and pause at the edge. More grass, leading to the beach, and a few trees dotting the expanse. My eyes widen as I search for the horse.

A sound behind me makes me whirl around. I stare in shock as the tall, brown and white horse watches me, ears flickering back and forth. I lick my suddenly dry lips and hold out my hand. The horse’s ears go forward, and it stretches out its neck, nostrils flaring as it takes in my scent, no doubt. I hold my breath when the horse starts to walk toward me.

The brown muzzle touches my fingers gently, and I smile. Slowly, the horse moves closer. My hand glides over her velvety fur, up her face, and through her silky black fetlock. She leans her head against my chest, and lets out a huge breath, as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. I stroke her neck as she leans against me. Her ears droop down, as though holding them up high is a great effort, and her tail hangs limply against her rump.

“Why are you the devil of the island, Indigena?” I ask her.

The horse lifts her head, her large brown eyes gazing into mine. She blinks at me, and nuzzles my hands. I stroke her and pat her, and slowly she seems to regain her vigour. Her body shivers as I scratch her belly. I find myself judging the height of her back and how easily I could leap up onto it. I pause in my scratching and the mare turns to look at me.

“May I ride you?” I ask.

The mare looks away, her body relaxing. One of her ears is swivelled in my direction, while the other twitches in the other direction. I grab a fist full of her mane, and place my other hand on her back. I hop up and down on the spot before leaping up, using my arm to push myself higher, and swing my leg over onto her back. The mare shakes her neck and I settle into her back as she turns around. I grab hold of her mane and use it to steer her. I press my heels lightly into her side and she walks off. When I feel more comfortable sitting on her bare back, I push her into a canter.

We canter across the meadow, and stop by the burnt part of the jungle. I dismount, happy and out of breath. The mare tosses her head and whinnies loudly, before nudging me with her nose. I giggle and stroke her neck, running my hands down her side, rubbing off the sweat in her fur. I pull some tangles out of her tail, and then kiss her nose. She nickers before trotting away.

With a huge smile on my face, I head back through the jungle. When I get back to the pool of water, I have a drink, and wait for Carlisle to return. After a few minutes I decide to have a quick wash, because I smell like horse and sweat. As I wait for my hair to dry, I lie back and watch the clouds disappear in the sky.

“Have you been here the entire five hours?” Carlisle’s voice makes me jump.

“N-no,” I stutter, sitting up.

“Huh,” he huffs. “Well, close your eyes, time to go back up and tell our stories.”

I close my eyes and pull the piece of fabric over my eyes. I forgot I had it around my neck until Carlisle told me to close my eyes. I wait for him to pick me up, and wonder what I’m going to tell him next. I feel his arms around my shoulders and under my legs, and he puts me on his back. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he starts to climb.

“Where did you go?” Carlisle asks as he climbs.

“I went for a walk in the meadow,” I tell him. “It’s really nice after the rain.”

“Did you see Indigena?” Carlisle asks.

“I did,” I nod. “She’s very pretty.”

“That’s what she does,” Carlisle snarls. “She dazzles you with her beauty, and then destroys you.”

“Carlisle, why don’t you like Indigena?” I ask him.

He chuckles. “All in good time, Saph,” he says. “That will come later. Today I’m going to tell you about my years in university.”

“You’re missing a bit,” I tell him.

“I’m not talking about my fishing years as a kid. Things happened, and I don’t want to remember them,” he sounds distant.

“Fair enough,” I nod. “I’m going to talk about my school life.”

“All of it?” Carlisle chuckles.

“Nope, just some of it,” I shake my head.

Carlisle places me on the ground and I wait for a few seconds before taking the piece of fabric off my eyes and tie it around my neck. I walk over to the bowl of water and berries, and eat up. I hadn’t had breakfast, and I’m really hungry. I drink the water, and then place Tenrec on the rock to eat the smaller berries I’d picked out for him. I then crawl over to the tree trunk and lean against it, smiling happily.

“Alright Saph, you’re up first,” Carlisle says.

I open my eyes and look around. I spot Carlisle sitting cross legged on a tree branch, watching me. I quickly look away so he doesn’t realise I can see him now.

“Well, after my first year in primary school was over, Mum and I moved. We moved to Margaret River, and even though we weren’t as secluded, living near the large town, we still had a quiet life. I went to Margaret River Primary School, and Mum went to work at the restaurant in town. I loved school there. Even though there were bullies, and some mean teachers, I still enjoyed it. I had a few friends, and fit in well. I was good at my school work, although not the top of my class. I excelled in sport, mostly. My sport teachers would push me each lesson, and I started to get very fit. One of my sport teachers was also a Constable for army cadets and contacted my mother about me joining up. I was super excited about that, and although Mum was sceptical about letting me go at first, I managed to convince her to let me become a cadet. I loved it so much. We learnt some survival tactics and basic hand-to-hand combat for self-defence. I started to become fascinated with knives and swords, so Mum got me a pocket knife that I’d spend a lot of time learning to use. Because I was good with knives, Mum let me help her in the kitchen. I did a lot of the cutting, and Mum taught me how to cut food like a professional chef. It was awesome. Anyway, one day in year five this kid was getting bullied really badly. He was new to school, and had only been there for a week, yet already there were kids that didn’t like him. I think he was from another country or something. Anyway, I knew the group of bullies personally, a group of year sixes that used to go to cadets. I didn’t think they were being very good people, so I went over to them and told them to back off. Of course, it didn’t really end well, and we got into a huge fight. We were all sent home, the boys with black eyes and bloodied noses and split lips, and me with a bigger ego and inflated pride, although I had a split lip too, and some bruises on my arms. To put it simply, I beat the shit out of those boys. I had detention for a week, and would have been suspended if Mum hadn’t convinced the principal to let me stay. When my detention was over, the boy I’d defended came up to me and thank me, and we became best friends after that.

“His name was Bo, and he was from America. He would tell me stories about California, and how cool it was there, with the heat and the beaches, and how similar it was to Australia. Even though I know California isn’t like Australia at all. Anyway, Bo and I did everything together. In year six we were put into the same class, and we’d sit next to each other every day. We’d work together on assignments, and do our homework together. We made the best team, and everything was so awesome. I even got him to join the army cadets so he could defend himself when people wanted to pick on him, which was a fair bit when I wasn’t around,” I smile fondly at the memories.

“What happened?” Carlisle asks softly.

“As it always goes, Bo admitted that he liked me. I thought I did too, and we decided to go out. But it was a mistake. Neither of us were mature enough for a relationship, we were in grade six! But we walked around holding hands, and hugged each other when we’d say goodbye and what not. I didn’t know what couples were supposed to do because Mum was single. Then one day, Bo invited me over to his house. I met his parents, who seemed really nice. But when we were in Bo’s room, we started to hear yelling. Bo started to get upset, and I just hugged him as his parents fought. It was horrible, and they were so nasty to each other. Bo’s older sister came in and put some music on for us. She sat with us until the fight was over. And then I had to go home. After that, Bo never spoke to me again. I found out that Bo was moving, because his parents were getting a divorce. I chased him down one day and asked him if the rumours were true. He told me that he was so ashamed of what had happened, and he couldn’t face me anymore. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t a problem and shouldn’t affect our friendship, but he was adamant to change his mind. He broke up with me, and it hurt twice as much than it should have because we were going out. Anyway, Mum told me that you can’t expect a boy to stay with you, regardless of the situation or reasons he should. I think she felt bitter about Dad leaving her,” I bite my lip. “And that’s the end of chapter two.”

Carlisle is silent for a moment. “What did your Dad do?” He asks.

“All in good time,” I smirk.

After a while, Carlisle starts his part of his story. “Well, this was a few years after I turned eighteen. It was just Mum, Matty and my older brother by this stage. My father had died from sickness, my oldest brother had died out at sea, and my other brother had gotten killed in a fight because he’d mix with the wrong crowd. I never wanted to be a fisherman again, not after those horrible years on the boat. Anyway, Mum was getting pretty sick, so my older brother Douglas was looking after her. Matty and I had done really well with our schooling and worked really hard for a couple of years before managing to get into a university in Ireland. Matty got a scholarship and went to England to study maths and physics, but I struggled for a year. I dropped out, no longer wanting to study history and teaching. I became a freelance writer for a while, until someone offered me a position in a university in England. I got into contact with Matty, and I lived with her while we went to different universities. There I studies English literature, and met a beautiful woman who later became my girlfriend.

“On my nineteenth birthday, I decided I wanted to propose to this woman that I thought was the love of my life. She said no, wanting to live her life first. I was distraught and grief stricken, and decided that I was just going to get on with my studies. I finished in my course, and went for that extra year for my diploma and teaching. I was qualified to teach English literature to high school students, and as soon as I got that piece of paper, I went back to Ireland to visit Mum. I found out that she’d died a year earlier, and my older brother was working at sea as a skipper. Heart broken, I went back to England and did a couple of years in teaching. I was twenty six before I decided I wanted to quit teaching and become a skipper, like my older brother. Matty, however, became very successful. She was a leading scientist and got a job at the university as a professor. I was so proud of my little Matty, only twenty five years old. She was doing so well, I was certain I could go off and leave her to her life. And then she met the man she later married, who ruined her life. I tried to stay with her to look after her, as well as train to be a skipper,” Carlisle sighs. I glance at him, and see that he has a very sad expression on his face. “She told me to go do my training, and paid for most of it with her wage. I wanted to bring her with me when I finished my training, but by then she had a child, with another on the way, and her husband would no longer let me see her. And that’s chapter two.”

We sit in silence for a while. I decide to break the silence, and bring Carlisle from his reverie. “My Mum said my Dad worked on boats. Said he earned good money, and he was really good at his job. She wanted him to marry her, and she says he would have, but he was so busy all the time he didn’t want to drag her through that kind of life. When Mum found out she was pregnant with me, she says Dad tried to stay home as often as possible to look after her. But a few weeks after I was born, Dad was called out on a job, and we never saw him again,” I chuckle. “I guess, like your brother, my Dad died doing what he loved.”

“I suppose,” Carlisle smiles softly. “You father should have refused the job though, so he could have stayed back to raise you.”

I shrug. “What’s happened is in the past,” I tell him. “Did you ever marry and settle down?”

“No, but I did meet a woman. She was lovely,” Carlisle says. “I wanted to marry her, but I knew we were too different. And then she had my child. I would have stayed, but life just …”

Carlisle trails off, and I look at him, frowning. “Carlisle?” I ask.

“What’s your last name?” Carlisle asks.

“McCormine?” I furrow my brow. “Did you know my father?”

Carlisle is silent. He looks at me, and our eyes meet. He smiles softly at me, and shakes his head. “I did. He was a great man. He died nobly, doing what he loved,” he says.

I smile. “I knew it. I knew he was a good person,” I try to ignore the tightening in my throat. “What was he like?”

“He was a bit rash, but a hard worker. He thought with his head, and his heart. He cared about his crew, but never let his emotions get in the way of his work,” Carlisle says. “You can see me, can’t you?”

The question catches me off guard. “I-I can,” I stammer.

“How long have you been able to?” He asks.

“A couple of days,” I bite my lip. “I saw you with the bird.”

Carlisle says nothing. He just watches me with a blank stare. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” He says after a long silence.

I laugh breathily. “It’s fine,” I wave away his apology.

“Saph, something doesn’t make sense to me,” Carlisle climbs down from his spot in the tree and sits down in front of me. He’s tall, and very muscular. I certainly wouldn’t want to mess with him. No way in hell!

“What doesn’t?” I ask.

“While you were in primary school, you sound like you were a normal kid. You said you had a few friends. How come you have that social anxiety thing?” He asks.

“S.A.D.?” I ask, and he nods. “We moved to America, and I just … I don’t know, I just lost it. I couldn’t cope with the move, and I slipped away from society. I could no longer function properly. It made Mum really mad, and she started to get hostile toward me. She’d hit me when I stuttered, or freaked out when she brought new people into the house. She’d lock me in my room sometimes, and make me fend for myself. Neither of us coped well with the move, and I don’t even know why it happened,” I bite my lip. “Then she put me in the nut house, and after three years, I was allowed out into the real world. Apparently I was fit for human interaction, and my psychologist was scheduled to go on this trip to Africa, so I had to go with her. It was pretty awesome, actually,” I look down. “But the plane crashed, and all of us ended up on the island. The adults are all dead, and heaps of the other kids. That’s why we’re here. We don’t know how to get off the island, and everyone is so sure that rescue will come,” I look at Carlisle, who has a blank face. “But I know that it won’t happen. No one knows where we are, and I doubt anyone cares.”

“Fifteen years makes me agree with you, but I want to give you some false hope,” Carlisle says sadly.

I chuckle “Don’t worry, I don’t need false hope. I could live here easy. Cadets taught me enough about surviving in the wild, and I prefer to be alone anyway,” I tell him.

Carlisle chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “If I let you leave the tree whenever you want, will you promise to stay up here to keep me company?” He asks.

Smiling, I nod. “I’ll escape eventually, but I want to hear more about my Dad. Plus you seem pretty cool, with your Irish accent and everything,” I smirk at him.

“You’re not so bad either Saph,” Carlisle smiles, and stands up. “Well, see you around. I have some stuff to do.”

Carlisle disappears into the canopy, and I lie back, smiling with satisfaction. Today has been great, I have a new friend who knew my Dad, and I can leave the tree whenever I want. Tomorrow, I’m going to look for Chris. Hopefully he wasn’t in the jungle during the fire. And if I find him tomorrow, I’m going to tell him what’s happening and hope that he doesn’t decide he wants to kidnap me. I’m staying here at my free will now.

Ezra Dexter

I stare at the dark girl who offers her hand out to me. A part of me says that she's good, that she's here to help. I feel like I know her, that this insanely gorgeous girl with insanely gorgeous hazel eyes and beautiful caramel skin is here to save me.

She's an angel and I am one of the dead.

Angels don't really wear tattered old clothes, do they? I would think that if you're up there with God, you'd look your best, right? I'm too busy taking in her appearance to notice that she's speaking to me.

Finally, I look back up at her face and she's watching me expectantly, waiting for an answer to a question I had missed.

I clear my throat. "I'm sorry, what?"

She offers a smile, then looks uncertain, unsteady. "Alaska, I said my name is Alaska."

I smile, "That's a strange name for an angel," then I let a dry laugh escape my throat, "No, you're not an angel are you? And I'm not dead. Just.. On this thing, do you know where we are?"

Alaska looks confused for a second, then sits herself down on the sand. "I know that the plane crashed, and that all of the adults are, um..." She looks away, "They're dead."

I sit next to her. "I'm Ezra. It's a guy's name, you know."

Alaska looks at me now, her poofy, thick hair matted with grass, sticks, and thorns from that bush that's keeping me here. "I don't think so, Ezzie. Listen, we better get back with the others."

I look at her, "There are others?" I'm hopeful. Maybe Elvis is with the others, "How many?"

She looks at me, "There are a lot of teens. I know I came out here with a guy- Ace, or Chris, I really don't know his name- We need to go back before they think I'm gone, too."

She starts to pull herself up, holding her hand out to me so I can help her up. I do, and she leads me through the brush, out the way she came in. I glance back at the cove, taking in the sight once more before I duck my head and follow her.

***^^*^**^^^

Alaska leads me through the thickets, and I'm reminded of a trip to the Schwarzwald. I voice this opinion and receive a blank stare from Alaska.

"Oh, um, the black forest." That same look is on her face, still. "It's a forest, obviously, and it's dark, so beautiful. I went there once with my Oma and my Opa, my grandparents. We were visiting family in Germany."

Alaska nods, and we stop to rest on a fallen tree. I look around, and decide that while there are lots of trees like the black forest, it's definitely not as dark here. "It's magical, the Black Forest. There are werewolves, ghosts, even dwarves, like the ones in Snow White." I tell her, sitting next to her. "I saw one of them, once, so I know they aren't fake."

She listens, resting her head on her hand, and her elbow on her knee.

"Oma and Opa were walking behind me on the trail, the Westweg, and I got too far ahead. I was all alone, I sat in the trunk of a tree, in this little niche I found. I was crying, cold, and scared. I called for Oma and Opa, but to no avail. I remember how scared I was that the trees would come alive, like the Ents in Lord of the Rings. I don't know how long I was alone, but eventually I heard knocking on the wood. It was really low, maybe a foot off the ground. I crawled out of the tree, and when I got out of there, there was knocking on the tree next to me, so I followed it. The knocking eventually led me back to the trail, and I was reunited with Oma and Opa, but not before I turned around and saw the Zwerg's shadow. I know it was one of them, because he was little." I smiled at her, "Hey, maybe there are some helpful dwarves in these woods."

Alaska laughed, "We don't have dwarves where I come from. Not much folklore. We have Anansi, the spider man. We have the Black Witch, but not much more." She tells me, getting a look in her eyes that tells me she misses home.

I grin, "Do you have any family?"

She nods, "Paynt, my brother, and my father, Hajib. We aren't a very big family, but I love them."

I feel myself nodding. "Can I ask you a question, about.. The others?" She nods, so I clear my throat, "I was, um, wondering if there was a boy there, his hair is very light blonde, and his eyes are so captivating. His name is.. Elvis, we were together when the plane went down."

Alaska thinks for a moment, "I don't know, I haven't talked to a lot of the survivors... Maybe Ace- er, Chris- will know... Was Elvis special to you?"

I let my hand flutter down and rest on my stomach. "..Yeah, he was. He saved me, he gave my life a new meaning. I love him." I look at her face, and she's staring at my hand.

"Are you...?" She trails off.

I choke back a sob. I am six weeks pregnant, and stuck on an island. I have no idea where Elvis is. "I'm hoping it's a boy, and that he has Elvis's eyes."

Alaska is crying now, too. We both know that this baby isn't going to survive inside of me long enough. Until we're rescued. But if Elvis is gone, I don't want to lose this child, what I have left of him.

We cry for a while, holding each other.

"Can you do something for me, Alaska?" I ask her, as my sobs are winding down. "Could you please keep this a secret between us? Nobody except you and me and Elvis know."

Alaska gives me a sad smile, then, she wipes her face with her arm and helps me up. We wind our way back through the woods, eventually arriving in a clearing with small, broken huts in it.

"Is this your camp?" I ask, looking around, my hand still in hers.

She shakes her head, her hair flouncing around. "No, we found this village. I was hoping the, um, guy. Chris, or Ace, I really don't know his name, I was hoping he doubled back."

I nodded, still looking at the dilapidated shacks, taking them in.

"I'm sure you're thirsty, right, Ezzie?" Alaska asked, drawing my attention once more. "You need to stay hydrated." She led me to a small pond, where we drank cool, clean water from small bowls.

After we refreshed ourselves, we checked the perimeter of the camp, then Alaska let me lay down in a cot in one of the shacks, while she kept watch. Before I knew it, I was drifting into a deep sleep.

It was darker when I woke next, the sun was just set, and the forest around us was alive with animal calls, the music of nature. Alaska had fallen asleep, her head resting on her crossed arms, her arms resting on the edge of the cot.

I was thankful that she came around when she did, and saved me from that cove. I no doubt would have starved there. At least now I can collect myself, offer my medical abilities. At least I have a chance.

I lay back down and it seems to get darker in the hut. I crack open an eye, and a chill travels down my spine and my blood runs cold- there's a silhouette of somebody in the window.

Elvis

The screaming had finally stopped. Her groaning, my screaming, it all stopped. I was too dehydrated and exhausted to even scream in pain, too tired to know if the burns had stopped hurting or if I was simply dying, no longer caring.

Open your eyes, Elvis, I thought to myself, You have to stay alive.

I peeled my groggy eyes open to see my companion, the flight attendant who had found this raft with me after the plane went down. Her name was Sara. She has two daughters and a husband, she's from Seattle, and she was staring right at me, her eyes glazed over and her mouth hanging slack. Noticing my own shallowing breath, I trailed my eyes down to her stomach where the metal piece of plane had been sticking out of her. The entire floor was covered in her blood, and it was only then that I realized that I was sticky with it. She'd bled out.

I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. It was just a dream. Wake up, Elvis.

***

"Turbulence." I muttered to Ezzie to calm her, nestling back towards her neck, reveling in the feel of her soft skin and the smell of her vanilla perfume.

I kissed her as her hands ran through my hair, marking every inch of her as mine. I loved this girl more than anything in the world. For now, that is. I let my hand trail down to her stomach and held it there. She wasn't far along enough for me to feel anything, but I loved just knowing our baby was there.

"If it's a boy," I whispered with a grin between kisses, "We should name him David Bowie."

She let out a bust of laughter and teased right back, "And Joan Jett if it's a girl."

***

I gasped, being awoken to the sound of birds calling, my eyes pulling themselves open with whatever survival instinct remained intact even as I was dying. I watched them circle above us, calling to one another, waiting. I could feel the sun soaking up every last bit of energy and water left in my body, but I had nothing left for it to take. I could feel how cracked my lips were already and could see the sun causing havoc on the burns I now bore on my right side from hip to chest to chin.

"It's funny," I managed in a dry, throaty whisper, "What are the odds I got burned on the arm without tattoos? That would have been a huge waste of $2,000 and the hell is caused for my dad, don't you think?"

I looked over to Sara with as much of a grin as I could muster, expecting to get the pity laughs we had been giving each other as we both lay there dying telling stories and trying to distract each other from the fact that we were. It was only once I saw her still staring at me that I remembered I was alone. Completely and utterly...alone. Was everyone I knew dead? My friends? My Ezzie? Oh God, my poor Ezzie...was she safe, or had I let her down and lost her?

Looking back up towards the circling birds for a moment, I closed my eyes, sleep taking over once again, and whispered, "They're coming for us, Sara."

***

The pain was eating me alive, engulfing my entire body and making me crazy, writhing around as a woman tried to hold me down. Someone was screaming, loudly. It wasn't until my mouth dried out that I realized it was me.

"Shhh, it's okay, be calm, you're rocking the raft!" The woman cried.

When that didn't work, she took off her jacket and disappeared, leaving me writhing and screaming to myself. And then there was cool. She'd soaked her jacket in the water and covered the burns with it. But I was still crying, still moaning, unable to control myself. Never had I ever felt this kind of pain.

"Shhh, it's okay, you're okay" she said weakly, beginning to stroke my hair to calm me, "What's your name?"

I knew she was just trying to distract me, but I was willing to take any distraction that I could get. And so it was with gritted teeth that I answered, "Elvis."

"Do you mind if I look at the burns?"

I nodded, or at least tried. My entire body was tensed up. She peeled back the jacket to take a look, and the pain almost distracted me from seeing her grimace. Almost.

"Is it bad?" I panted, breaking out into a sweat.

"It's not charred, so it could be worse, it just...there's so much burned...we need to find help or this could get infected. But don't worry, it'll be okay. Someone will come"

"You..." I had to catch my breath, "You're bleeding."

She looked up at me, putting the jacket back down on me. She closed her eyes for a second, and upon opening them took a deep breath and said simply, "I'm Sara."

***

[i]"I'm supposed to be a dad." I said, staring up at the bright sun. Neither of us could even get up anymore - Sara was hardly even able to move - and our mouths were already drying out. Having swallowed so much salt water when the plane went down had completely dehydrated us, and we were surrounded by nothing but ocean. No water. Just sun.

"You will be." I heard her say after a pause, probably to gain the energy to speak.

"My girlfriend," I swallowed the lump in my throat, "She...she was in the plane. We jumped together, and then she was gone."

"I have two daughters, Lydia and Olivia. They were the best things to ever happen to me."

Closing my eyes, I muttered as I fell back into sleep, "Olivia. I like that."

***

I'm dying.

Or maybe I'm dead already? There was no movement, the raft had stopped bobbing with each passing current. I must be dead.

But if I was dead, why did my wounds still hurt so badly?

Open your eyes, Elvis.

But I couldn't.

What was that? I could almost hear...no. People? I strained to make the sound out, but couldn't understand their words, only that they were yelling.

Open your fucking eyes, Elvis.

And I did. And past the lifeless body of Sara I saw sand, sand stretching for miles. And people. People...running? Running to me! Oh God, people have found me, I'm home! I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, they were dragging down and pulling me back to sleep.

I'm home.

***

"I've got you!" I yelled into Ezzie's ear over the sound of the plane and everyones screams, "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise!"

What I didn't tell her was that even I was beginning to cry. But I couldn't. I couldn't cry with my Ezzie in my arms needing me to be strong. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and thought about my father, about all the training I had undergone, thought of him screaming down my neck to think boy, think, use your fucking head!

Snapping my eyes open, I took in what was happening. Screaming, smoke, fire, door! Bolting to my feet, I pulled Ezra up with me and ran towards the emergency exit, already coughing from inhaling all of the smoke. The plane wasn't going to last much longer, not with all of this fire, it was bound to-

"Jump!" I yelled.

She looked at me, terrified, but some people around us didn't take such time to think about it. They jumped without question, hoping to save themselves. Person after person began to jump, some sat still crying, others did God knows what.

Holding my hand out to her, "We have to jump, Ezzie. We have to. And when we do, we probably won't land in the same place. But whatever you do, as soon as you hit the water swim up, just keep swimming up until you hit air and then keep swimming. I will find you. Do you trust me?"

She took my hand.