The Island

Chapter 7- A Psychotic Bird Thing

A few hours later, early evening.

Ben woke up to find himself in a cave. He was surrounded by puddles of blood and random feathers strewn everywhere. The last thing he remembered was getting pelted by rocks. He wasn't sure whether that had really happened, though.

Something told him it hadn't been a dream.

He looked around, wondering where his friends were. He spotted Todd's shoe, but no Todd, and there was no sign of either of the girls.

Ben had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but he did know that he needed to find the others. Preferably without getting pelted by rocks until he was halfway dead.

With a groan, Ben sat up, that one small effort making him go dizzy and see spots. He could easily imagine the little birds fluttering around his head like in an old cartoon.

Every single muscle in Ben's body screamed in protest, but Ben ignored that and staggered to his feet dazedly. He was barely alive. In fact, it was a miracle that he wasn't dead.

With a lot of pain and groaning, Ben walked out of the cave. It was dusk, and the trees seemed to be sleeping or something. They were perfectly still. Ben was glad for that.

He then spotted a huge thing in front of him. It looked like a mutated polar bear with spikes coming out of its back and dried bronze blood sticking to it as well as in a puddle all around it.

That's when he saw Hailey.

Ben let out a dry sob and rushed over to her. She was next to a puddle of dried reddish-brown blood, making it look sort of like her hair. Ben spotted the green wound, right over her heart. Either the injury was that bad, or it was some kind of poison from the beast.

Hailey had died saving them from that thing.

Ben needed to find the others. Now. He pushed himself off the ground and hobbled out of the forest. This time, the trees didn't object.

Ben made it all the way to the beach before he heard it.

It sounded like a falcon screaming as it throttled a turkey. The noise was garbled and nearly incomprehensible. Under different circumstances, Ben would've found the noise funny. But here, on this island, it made him freeze in his tracks. He was petrified.

He turned his back to the beautiful Pacific, and looked up into the sky. There was a huge, deranged looking bird thing.

It looked like a bird, but at the same time, it didn't look like a bird. Ben cocked his head. "What the heck?" he muttered. It was a psychotic-looking giant bird with razor-like talons and an even sharper bill. It flew in low, sleazy circles around him like it had all the time in the world. Every now and then making that weird bird call at him. Ben looked up again at it, and saw some red on its talons. Hoping it wasn't blood, he slowly walked to the shore.

The trees were quiet, either sleeping or waiting to attack him. He shook

it off, and walked to a little bay on the beach.

He ripped his sleeve and dipped it into the water with his non-infected arm.

He bit his lip as he placed it on the infected wound, and then saw

stars. Ben took the sleeve off, and dipped it in the water again. The water around the fabric turned a light shade of green.

"Damn it, it's that infected?" He mumbled to himself. He sighed. Ben

shook the fabric and put it on the wound again, and, once again, saw stars. His head shot up as he heard splashes, and he saw a human figure seeming to battle water. Before he could do anything, he heard a screech, and was knocked out by a big psychotic bird.

Because birds are that stupid.