A Pirate's Life for Mei

The Devil's Eyes

How fitting it was that the dying afternoon light bled red into the horizon. As darkness fell across the land, did it herald a similar death for any potential relationships she might have with these four men?

Or was she just being really negative and melodramatic?

Mei couldn't help but curse herself for screwing up. After they all had left, she'd spent the next hour fretting over their return. What could she say to make things better? To keep herself busy, she decided to make her own lean-to.

She hefted a long branch and wedged it between a couple of tree trunks on the edge of the clearing, about waist high. It was crooked, but she couldn't seem to straighten it out so that it would stay in place and be level at the same time. Giving up on making it look good, she wandered all over looking for deadwood to make a roof. Unfortunately, the area was already pretty much picked clean. There weren't even any palm fronds laying around; they'd all been used up. And she didn't think it would be easy climbing a tree for fresh ones.

She stared at the mediocre result of her effort. The little lean-to was lopsided and had three branches for a roof, which would do nothing. She looked over her shoulder at one of the other constructions.

Unlike hers, which faced the jungle, their lean-tos faced the fire. They each had a floor of dried grass about the space of a king-sized bed so that two people had lots of room. Fully roofed, each was covered in grass and palm leaves thick enough to prevent water from getting in. In short, they were well made.

Then she looked back at hers again. "Crap." She sighed. "It had better not rain tonight." Maybe she could find more materials tomorrow to make it better. Not that she wanted to stick around long-term. She'd worked so hard to escape and had been through so much. She didn't want to just hang out here until she was made prisoner again.

The others seemed resigned to returning to regular prison life. To them, being here was just a vacation from prison life, one they knew had to end. Not wanting to join them, was there a way to convince the others to escape this island as well?

Why didn't they dream of more? How could they just give up so easily? Sure, she understood some of their objections, but still, their lack of effort and enthusiasm felt underwhelming.

Then again, was it so surprising? She sat down cross-legged in the grass next to her child-like attempt at making a shelter. She'd seen negative attitudes like theirs before, back home. She had once been an enthusiastic freedom fighter. But not everyone was. Hopelessness and apathy were probably the norm.

"Join us," she'd implore others while recruiting for the cause. "We can make a difference. We can make life better for all of us."

"What's the point?" others would scoff, unmoved. "The government's too big, too powerful. One person can't make a difference."

"That's why we need to work together!"

"No thanks. I'm not going to waste my time. Besides, you're just going to end up pissing them off. I don't want to make trouble." And they'd walk away, more content to live in a fearful world of secret police and tyrannical power than do even the least amount to change things.

She'd had so many disheartening conversations like that. She and the other protesters would get together now and then and vent about it. Here they were, sacrificing their time, their very lives, for the benefit of others. And yet those people couldn't be bothered to help, even though they could get something out of it. So then, what were we fighting for? Why get up at dawn and spend the day holding signs outside of government offices demanding change? Why spend hours investigating corruption and writing articles only to have people ignore injustice in favour of reading the latest sports scores?