Experiment Number 7218

Chapter 3: Island

Chapter 3: Island

(Nick Bateman as Keith Moore, picture above. Please let me know if the picture isn't visible).)

Brittany's POV:

I would be lying if I said he isn't attractive, but he's freaking me out at the moment. He's about 6' foot 4' inches, brown hair that looks like it used to be styled as a faux hawk, stubble on his face from not shaving, honey golden brown eyes, and is wearing what I am, except a black jacket and boots for men. His clothes, along with himself, are filthy, worn out, and covered in dirt, meaning he's been here a while.

"I said, who the hell are you?" He growls pulling back the hammer on his hand gun.

"Wait!" I yell putting my hands up in surrender, causing him to look at my wrist where the light is, "My name is Britt, I woke up here, okay? I don't know where I am, or who you are. I'm not armed, I just have a knife."

He examines the light on my wrist, then my eyes. Almost like he's looking for something, like giving me a test. Once he's satisfied with what he see's, he lowers his gun. What surprises me is when he backs up about ten feet and turns, walking away.

"Hey! Wait!" I yell, chasing after him.

"Don't follow me." He growls in annoyance.

"Well I'm sorry for wanting to socialize with the first person I've seen in... years!" I snap.

He stops and turns to look at me, a glint of something I can't read lingering in his cold eyes.

"What do you mean, years?" He ask's, "How long have you been here?"

"I told you, I just woke here." I reply, happy I'm finally getting somewhere.

"I mean, how long have you been here?" He ask's, referring to the whole situation it's self.

"Oh..." I try to mentally count, "I don't know, I was taken when I was fourteen."

"I've been on this island since I was eighteen. I'm twenty three now," He say's, "I can only assume you're around twenty one, maybe twenty two."

"What do you mean 'On this island?'" I ask.

"I've come to the conclusion this is an island. It's surrounded by nothing but water." He reply's in a 'duh' tone as he continues walking. I walk with him, curiosity flowing through my veins, "Why are we here?"

"You ask too many questions." He reply's, annoyance in his voice.

"My apologies," I sass back, "May I at least ask your name, your Highness?"

He glares at me from the corner of his eye, replying, "Keith."

"Will-" He interrupt's me, "You're pissing me off."

I roll my eyes in annoyance, but decide to keep my mouth shut for the sake of us both. I continue to walk with him, trying to keep up with his fast pace. I don't know where we're going, but I just don't want to be alone.

I wonder how many others are here. Is it just us? Maybe he's seen someone else. How did he know I was safe to be around just by looking at the light on my wrist?

"Can I ask one more thing? I promise I'll shut up after that. I'll keep quiet until you say." I beg for one more answer.

He lets out a sigh of irritation and responds, "What is it?"

"What's this?" I lift up my wrist and point to the glowing green orb beneath my skin.

"A tracker. And it changes colors when you put too much physical strain on your body. Like if you run too hard. Sometimes mental stress can effect it as well. Yellow is a warning, red means stop immediately, and blinking red means..." He reply's, trailing off at the end.

"What happens if you put too much strain on yourself?" I push. I glance at his wrist and see he has one too.

He looks forward, a stern look on his face. Almost as if he's remembering something unpleasant. He's seen a lot.

"I don't have a word for it... But you turn. Don't ask what to, because I don't know. All I know is it's... horrific. I met a man here a few years back. We were running, fighting, and he was human. He ran so hard to keep up with me. I think you can finish the story." He reply's, a look of guilt casts over his face, but disappears as quickly as it came.

"What were you running from?" I ask, curious of what was so horrible.

His expression turns hard again and he say's, "Time to honor your end of the deal." I get the hint and shut up, but as soon as he lets me, I'm going to ask what he was running from. What's so horrible that you run yourself to death?

--

I sit on the ground against a tree, Keith on the tree opposite from me on the other side of the fire. It's completely dark, the only thing giving off light is the fire that seperates us.

I look up for the stars, but my heart sinks when I realize the sky is so thickly clouded, you can't see anything. I remember something Ashton told me when I was eight.

He was twelve when he decided he wanted to go live with his father, yes, we're half brother and sister, and he was leaving eight states away. The night before he was leaving, I remember sitting on the porch crying. We had our fights, but I still loved him.

He came outside to comfort me, and asked, 'Do you see those stars? The three that line up in the East?'

He was right. They lined up, but the one in the middle was ever so slightly moved to the left. 'Yes.' I replied.

'Know that I'll always be looking at those same stars. I'll always be here.' He promises. Looking back, it was cheesy. But it's comforting. It stuck with me the rest of my life.

I look down from the sky and back at the fire.

"What's wrong with you?" Keith ask's, talking for the first time in about four hours.

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"You're crying." He states, absolutely no interest lingering in his voice.

I quickly wipe my face and see that he's right. I ignore him and lay down, my back facing him. The ground is hard and cold, uninviting. I use my arms as a pillow and drift off, wondering where my family is.

--

My eyes shoot open, only to quickly close, but I don't dare move. I tense and notice I'm facing where the fire used to be, I had probably rolled over in my sleep.

I feel breathing on my neck, and can tell that whatever it is is very large. "Keith." I state, praying it's just a sick joke of his; even though he doesn't seem the type to do so. I get no answer and repeat, "Keith?" My voice breaking at the end.

"What now?" He groans, sleep in his voice from about ten feet away. This isn't Keith.