The Edge of the World

Chapter Four

Hours later, when the sky turned from charcoal to ebony, Tatum returned to the campsite, her body still trembling. Her mind was spent with all she'd seen and felt in that clearing, ideas twisting her common sense, making her wonder what the right move was. She needed to tell her fellow castaway what she found but remained uncertain about how to broach the subject.

She and doc sure hadn't gotten off to a good start, and she was relieved to find him still there. He was dressed in wrinkled clothes from the silver case and kept the fire going in her absence. Tatum was clueless on how to approach him, considering she'd all but told him the ways he could fuck himself before storming away.

She sat across from him, the flames of the small fire separating them, and she observed him as he studied something in his hands. His hair shielded his face from her, and she swallowed hard as she reached out, offering him a small globe of the red, strange fruit she'd been dining on since finding them in the surrounding trees the day before. It was a pathetic attempt at making an endeavor towards peace, which wasn't easy for her. She never felt the need to reconcile with anyone, for her pride rarely allowed it.

But she, also, hadn't ever been stranded on an empty island with anyone before either. She was naive to the proper etiquette regarding their situation, and if she was being honest, outside of the island, she was a dick. One couldn't, and shouldn't, expect her to find her humanity right away. 

Communicating nice shit takes time.

Ian's attention shifted to the fruit, which he made no move to take, only spoke in a low, ominous voice which sent chills along her flesh.

"How did you do it," came the soft accusatory words. When she didn't respond right away, he lifted his dark eyes to meet hers, his jaw clenched tight.

"How?"

Tatum shook her head in confusion, her brows drawn as she dropped the fruit into his lap and withdrew her hand.

"What are you talking about?"

He scoffed before holding up what appeared to be two passports, but not new ones. Old worn black casings with torn edges exposed time's damaging touch. She shook her head uncertain what he wanted from her.

"How? Who the fuck are you, and how do you know me? These were in your suitcase."

She eyed the casings as if they were ancient alien artifacts.

"I've never seen those before, doc," she said. "I found the suitcase yesterday after I woke on the beach, but it isn't mine."

His expression reflected his disbelief, and she leaned back against a decaying oak, swallowing her disappointment. Nobody ever believed her, so why did she think this rich college boy would differ from the rest?

He tossed them into the dirt before her, waiting for her to look at them. Tatum had wanted to tell him about the creature in the woods and the cabin she found, but his demeanor told her he wouldn't be receptive until she looked at the passports. Rolling her eyes, she tore her attention from him and focused on the faded gold words and emblems of the visas before opening them.

And her body stilled as she examined the contents inside.

The passports belonged to Amelia and Michael Tanaka from Sacramento, California and had been issued in the early nineteen eighties. The young couple beamed in their pictures, their eyes bright with ideals and hopes that the world hadn't snuffed out of them yet. Amelia's long dark hair was pulled back at the sides, while peach ruffles were scrunched around her throat and Michael's hair was longer, like docs, but parted on the side as men did in those days.