Hunted Chapter 2

Paul woke up because a snake. Granted, it was all the snake's fault, but Paul's screaming didn't help his ego. All the snake did was coil up in-between his splayed legs, but of course he felt it. Groggily looking down at his legs, he emitted a very high-pitched girly noise, jumped to his feet, and ran away from it.

He didn't stop until he was sure that he had lost it, and then he paused and looked around. He was most certainly not in the boy's bathroom, or even anywhere in his state. Nevada didn't have places like this. He turned his view upwards, and he noticed that the tropical wind rustled the leaves of the palm trees. But the interesting part was what the trees were dropping. Coconuts. He didn't feel that hungry, but if they were far away from their home, he figured they should stock up on food.

He took all that his arms could carry, and stumbled back to the others, taking care to not drop the coconuts. He accidentally dropped all of them on Ian, to which he woke up and yelled. Paul muttered a quick apology, and spotted Conner and Terry, who were the only ones awake, besides Ian. He waved to them, and hustled over to them.

“Where in the world are we?” He asked, as the shock finally hit him. His head started spinning, realizing that they were no where close to home, and his brain went into panic mode. Connor and Terry seemed perfectly normal and calm, not showing any nervous or panicked feelings they might have.

“In the Atlantic Ocean.” Terry replied, hands behind his back. “Connor and I did some exploring while you guys were asleep, and because of the palm trees and some sand, I figured we were near the beach. I was right, and there is nothing in sight as far as I can see. It seems that we're going to have to live here for a while, until we can build a good enough boat, or flag a bigger one down.”

Paul's jaw dropped. “And you're not in the least bit uneasy about this?” He asked seriously.

“You guys have been asleep for a long time. I've had a while to mull it over.”

“Plus,” Connor put in. “On the bright side, it won't be that much of an adjustment. We only lived in our old home for about a year. We can get used to this.” He waved his arms around, displaying the palm tree forest.

Paul's stress only increased, and his right pinky toe began twitching involuntarily. Connor patted him on the back, while playfully punching him in the gut. It was harder than he intended, and Paul doubled over.

“Whazzgoingon?” Ian asked sleepily, his forehead swelled up like a grapefruit. He rolled over on to his stomach, and did a push-up onto his knees. Connor helped him up to his feet, but Ian collapsed from exhaustion. He snored loudly.

“Why are they so tired?” Paul asked, regaining himself. Terry thought, being the smart one, and left Paul waiting for several minutes. He coughed, having thought of an answer.

“It might have something to do with the fact that the waterspout could have relied on bodily energy to work. Connor and I felt a little drowsy, but you guys passed out. The more people it took, the more energy it required. That's why you guys fell asleep. I guess it took less energy from you. That's why you woke up.”

Paul nodded his head, thinking about that. It seemed reasonable enough, he was wondering how it even occurred. That stuff just doesn't happen in nature. Maybe it had been used for transportation or something for the Government. They had been told the building had once been a Police Office.

For some reason, that seemed highly unlikely. It should have triggered a long time before; that bathroom was used frequently. He shrugged the thought off, and pondered it for a second. No one had ever disappeared in that house before, at least, not that they had heard of. And it had only occurred on that specific night, when all of the boys were clustered together...

All the thinking made his brain hurt. He picked a coconut up, and started banging it on a rock. It didn't even crack. He crashed it down again, for nothing. Not one single dent showed. He was mildly disappointed, he had envisioned it being much easier to open a coconut. But, at the same time, it seemed almost expected. It was as if he had done it before, but the notion was preposterous, he would remember something like that. He continued to bash the coconut on the rock, but no progress was made.

Ian had fallen back asleep but it reminded Paul that he had a pocketknife. He stealthily crouched down moved silently to his companion. He reached his hand into Ian's pocket, and withdrew it with the pocketknife. He recoiled when Ian's eyes fluttered. He dashed to the coconut, prying the blade open with his thumb. The metal glint flashed in his eyes, and he began to saw the top off of the shell.

The saw worked perfectly, and the coconut was laid open. He touched it to his lips, and the furry shell startled him. It felt different than what was depicted in movies. He drank the lukewarm liquid, but spit it out in disgust. It tasted nothing like coconut flakes. It was similar to water, but had a trace amount of flavor, so it tasted nasty.

He set the shell down, waiting until he was actually thirsty to drink the milk. Balancing it so it wouldn't spill, he put rocks around it, then continued on to kick Ian in the head. Ian, who did not normally appreciate being kicked in the head, shouted, jumped to his feet, and punched Paul in the nose.

“Ow!” Paul groaned, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. Ian, eyes closed, had his fists held high, ready to strike again. He was still sleeping, but didn't seem to have any trouble fighting. Paul stomped on his foot, and was rewarded with another blow to his nose.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Paul squealed, attempting to restore his nose to the correct position. He backed away, watching Ian crumple to the ground, sleeping. Kicking Ian was probably not smart, but he was bored, and Terry and Connor weren't much for excitement. He wanted to explore, they probably wanted to talk about the environment, being the only two in the group that actually liked school.

That was the thing about their memory loss. They remembered who they were, they remembered each other's identities, and they remembered everything they had ever learned, but they didn't know how they got the knowledge, or anything before the memory loss. That frustrated many of them at first, knowing something, but not knowing where they got the information. Teachers, parents, guardians were all lost to their abstracted minds.

Doctors couldn't explain it, and they didn't have the money to go visit a hypnotist, the nearest ones being extremely expensive. Besides, they had talked to the police, and no one in 500 miles had reported missing kids that matched their description. The best thing the foster home could do for the boys, was foster or adopt them out. They swore they would never leave each other, and because of it, they never got adopted. No one would take seven adolescent boys.

None of them minded though, being adopted or fostered meant a smaller building, a different environment, and most likely, more rules. So the band stayed together.

-

Nick stirred shortly after he closed his eyes. The sun seemed to not have moved much, so he had only slept an hour or two, or an entire day. It didn't matter much to him. A day or an hour wouldn't make much difference if they were lost. He rubbed his head, which was throbbing horribly. He massaged one of his arms, rubbing his arm back and forth. Before, his body had been on fire. The aching felt ten times worse. He groaned, and sat up.

He looked around. Most of the boys were still asleep, so he got to his feet slowly, wincing as the ache in his joints intensified. He hesitated, gripping his knees and breathing heavily. He shakily took a step forward, grimacing as the fiery sensation returned. He slowly took another step. He collapsed, his legs racked with pain. He waited several seconds on his knees before attempting it again. He clambered up, and walked. The first step burned, but the more he walked, the better he felt.

He continued to increase his speed, until he broke into a run. The pain didn't seem to bother him. He sprinted towards a log, and leaped over it. When he landed, his back, legs, and abdomen broke out in stabbing torture. He plummeted, and hit the ground with his shoulder. He moaned in pain, and nearly yelled. Why was he hurting so bad?

“Looks like you need a hand,” Nick looked up. Paul was standing over him, his hand grasped a large stick. He hoisted Nick up from the armpits. He handed him the stick.

“You can use this as a crutch,” He said. “It might be cruddy, but it should support you until recover.” Nick stuffed it underneath his arm, and put some weight down on it. It dug into his pits, making him cringe. But he bore through it, making faces as he went. They wandered back to the other boys, Paul helping Nicholas as he needed it. By the time they got there, which was very long, most of the boys were awake, groaning about the aches in their joints. Only Ian was still asleep.

Neither of them appeared to want to move, or speak, or do anything else for that matter. Daniel, possibly the toughest of them all, was acting more like a baby than Levi. “My arms...” He moaned, laying flat on his back. “They hurt so bad...” Levi was wincing and twitching. Terry looked over at Paul, in essence telling him to leave them alone for a little while, while they recovered. Nick gaped at them. They didn't seem in half the pain he had been in previously. Yet he was walking.

Babies. He thought, stumbling on his crutch. He limped over to Terry and Paul, who were talking.

“So how in the world,” Paul said. “Are we supposed to get out of here!”

Terry shrugged innocently. “Honestly, I'm not sure.”

Paul groaned, running a hand through his hair, letting some fall out. He gripped Terry by the shoulders. He was a good six inches taller than Terry, and when he was agitated, he could be intimidating.

“You're the geek here!” He yelled. “Figure it out!”

Terry gritted his teeth, staring into Paul's eyes. Nick could tell he was thinking hard, because his pupils had gone to the size of an orange. Nick grimaced at the sight. A small pain hit him in the ribs, and he fell onto his crutch. He didn't know why he was aching so bad, but he really wanted it to stop.

“Well,” Terry said, glancing briefly at Nick, who was clutching his side. “I was thinking about this while you guys were asleep, but I turned the idea down.”

Paul nodded his head, to keep Terry talking.

“First, we have to realize that the chances of us getting back the same way we came, are very unlikely. It was probably a once-in-a-lifetime thing, so erase that idea. But then, I thought about a boat. A boat-”

Paul cut him off there. He rubbed a forefinger on his head.

“The best idea you can come up with,” He said slowly, attempting not to yell. “is a boat?” He swiftly shook him by the shoulders. “A boat was my first idea! And you're telling me that's the best you've got!”

He let go of Terry, who rested his hands on his knees. He puffed, and held a hand up to pause. He recomposed himself, stroking his shoulder. It was bright red.

“Just for now,” He said, continuing to exhale deeply. “I haven't had that much time. But, as I was saying, the reason I ruled it out-”

“Was because we have no flipping way to build a boat!” Paul interrupted once again. Terry's expression dropped even lower. A bird cried in the trees. Nick regarded it. It looked like a parrot, although the bright gold feathers suggested otherwise. The two arguing boys seemed to take no other notice of it, besides the fact that it had made an annoying noise.

“Trees... What are we supposed to cut them with!” Paul exclaimed spreading his arms out to display the trees. He knocked a fist on the bark of one for emphasis. “We've got nothing sharp enough.” He kicked it, and a coconut dropped to the ground.

“And nothing to bind them, either!” He pointed out. “No rope!”

Terry looked absolutely exasperated; Paul was being resistant, repetitive, and redundant. Paul glared at him.

“So, what do you think of your plan now?” He said.

Terry swallowed. “First,” He said meekly. “I would like to point out that it was not my idea-”

“I don't care if it wasn't your idea!” Paul yelled. He pulled at his hair.

Terry stared at him, his mouth agape. He had never seen Paul act in this manner. “But,” Terry continued. “You forgot to mention that food would be a problem too. We have nothing but coconuts now, and then later we would have to hunt animals or harvest berries, and along with having no sharp objects, we're in quite a mess.”

Paul just glared at him, like the whole thing was Terry's fault.

Nick continued to watch the bird. It ruffled its golden feathers, and let out another loud CAW. The beady eyes moved around, watching the boys. It cocked its flaxen head, most likely wondering what the boys were doing in the first place.

“Find the seven!” It crowed. Nick jumped back. He stared in awe. He peered at the other boys, who were still in their discussion. They had apparently not heard anything unusual.

“Now how does that work?” Paul asked Terry, hands on his hips. Nick payed some attention to them, and a lot of attention to the bird. The parrot noticed a bug, and decided that it was hungry.

“Well, A biplane is not easy to make.” Terry said. Paul rolled his eyes as if to say, obviously. “But with my idea, it's more of a glider. It doesn't need fuel, which we don't have, it just needs to catch a good wind, which we do have.” Paul nodded in response, scratching his chin.

“Don't gliders descend after a while?” He asked. “We might not be able to make it that far across the ocean.”

“That's why it could be a boat, too. Just until it catches a strong wind.”

The golden bird flapped it's wings, and flew to another tree. It ate another bug. “Catch the cat!” It cried.

Now all the boys stared. Terry and Paul had finally taken notice of it. They blinked. Terry lifted a shaky finger to it.

“If that bird is repeating words...” He said.

“There must be someone here to teach it them!” Nick and Paul continued, jumping.

“Maybe they have a boat!” Terry said giddily. “Or a plane!”

They jumped around, pumping their fists and shouting. Paul was the first one to find a problem, although.

“What if this person,” He said cautiously. “The person who taught the bird to speak, is the reason we were brought here? What if he made the tornado?”

Terry waved it away with his hand, as if it was a material object. “Probably not.” He said. “The technology to do that would be unfathomable to most of our current scientists. Teleportation has already been deemed 'impossible'. But of course we proved that wrong. Besides, who would bring seven kids to a random island?”

Nick couldn't answer that. What he could answer, was that that bird was repeating human phrases, even if they didn't made much sense.

“Okay,” Terry said. “I'm going to make a plan, right now.”

Paul and Nick both dipped their heads, motioning him to start.

“So, if we're going to find this mystery person, we're going to either search around the whole island looking for him, or we can contact him through smoke signals. I would advise the latter.”

Paul rolled his eyes at the word latter, but agreed to the idea. Nick shrugged.

“Okay then,” Terry announced, rubbing his hands together. “We will make camp somewhere that is not smothered with roots, and from there we will attempt smoke signals. Sound good?”

The other two thought it sounded alright.

-

Out of the all of the boys, only one thought it was a bad idea. And that was Ian. He had suggested they go ahead and make the boat, and forget about trying to contact any mystery person. It would be best to get off the island as fast as possible. Nobody else thought so. So they began making their camp.

“Ian and Nick!” Terry yelled. “You two are going to find us a good clearing!”

Nick, who felt that he could manage without his crutch, and Ian, who really did not want to manage, started off inland.

“Levi and Paul!” Terry continued. They looked at him. “You two can collect supplies needed for a fire. Meet us back here, so that Ian and Nick can tell us where the camp is.”

They jogged away in two separate directions.

“Connor and Daniel!” The two of them nodded. “You two can collect food supplies, such as coconuts, mangos-” Connor cut him off.

“We know what food is.”

Terry waved them away. When they were gone, he withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket. He examined it quickly.

A diagram for a biplane covered the paper. He seemed to have figured out how to make it fly, without fuel, and when there was no wind. Mathematical equations riddled the old piece of parchment. He shook his head, knowing he couldn't make it with the materials he currently had. He shoved it back into his pocket.

-

Nick and Ian wandered around the maze-like forest. There seemed to be no space large enough to make a camp, that was not smothered with roots. They jogged on.

Ian poked Nick. “Hey,” He said. “What are the chances we're ever going to get off this island?” He grinned. Nick huffed. Ian was the most annoying of the group, and exasperating. Not answering his question would only provoke him into more questions.

“For all they know, this might not even be an island.” He answered, keeping his eyes peeled for a spot without roots. “It could be a peninsula. Like florida.”

The look on Ian's face was one of complete confidence, but Nick didn't have the slightest clue why.

“No,” Ian responded. “Terry figured it out. He went to the beach, and said that he couldn't see any land around them. He even figured out that the water farther down from the end of the island, had more salt than the end.”

“Which means...” Nick asked.

Ian sighed, like he actually knew what he was talking about. He just had a really great memory.

“It means that the water that is closer to a lake, or riverbed, which are on the shore, is on the side of the island where there is no land that you can see.”

“I'm still not following you.”

Ian shrugged. “Your loss.” Ian probably didn't understand it either.

They ran for a little while longer, and decided that they were going to get lost if they continued any further, they turned back.

As they ran, Nick watched the roots. They almost seemed to wiggle as he stepped on them. He cocked an eyebrow curiously.

“Wait,” He said.

He dropped to the ground, and touched one of the roots. It did wiggle! It moved and jiggled, until it completely moved away from the spot that Nick was touching. Nick and Ian's jaws dropped. It was almost like the trees were an animal themselves.

“We could make camp where we are right now!” Nick said, poking the roots.

“I wonder if the trees can feel pain...” Ian responded. Nick took out his pocketknife, flipped it open, and stabbed a root. It recoiled much quicker. Nick raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe so,” He said. He put his knife away, and slung his arm around Ian's shoulder.

“We should head back,” He said, dragging Ian. “They might have moved to a different spot by now.”

“Were we going to do anything else?” Ian said, trying to free himself of Nick's grip.