Anomaly; Stranded The Series (bxb)

Chapter 4: Old Wounds

The growl seemed to echo through the jungle, a low rumble that made Eli's blood run cold. His body locked up, muscles tense as if his mind couldn't decide whether to fight or flee. Shit.

Jonah's eyes were wide, his expression mirroring Eli's panic, but they didn't move. They couldn't. Neither of them knew what was lurking just out of sight, and any sudden movement could be the difference between surviving or becoming some animal's dinner.

"Stay still," Jonah whispered, his voice barely audible.

Eli nodded, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. His hand gripped the makeshift spear a little tighter, though he knew it would probably do jack shit against whatever was out there. Another growl, closer now, followed by the sound of something moving through the underbrush. Eli's stomach dropped, dread crawling up his spine like a living thing.

And just like that, the memories hit him—like the fear had opened a door inside his brain, flooding it with images of the past.

They were twelve years old, sitting on the cracked pavement outside Jonah's house. It was the middle of summer, hot and sticky, but Eli didn't care. This was what they did—every day after school, on weekends, whenever they could. They just... existed together. And Eli loved it.

Jonah had his skateboard, his long, skinny legs dangling off the edge as he leaned back on his hands, staring up at the sky. He was talking about something—always talking—but Eli wasn't really listening. He was too busy trying not to stare at the way Jonah's hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, or how his laugh made Eli's stomach flip, or how, sometimes, Eli wished they could sit a little closer, like those other boys they'd seen at the park.

"I'm gonna go pro, you know," Jonah had said, his voice full of that youthful confidence that Eli both admired and envied. "Skateboarding, I mean. You think I could do it?"

Eli had just shrugged, pretending not to care. He always pretended back then. It was easier. Safer. "Maybe."

Jonah had laughed, bumping Eli's shoulder with his. "You're supposed to say, 'Hell yeah, Jonah! You're the best!'"

Eli had rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. "Fine. Hell yeah, Jonah. You're the best."

It had been a joke, like everything else in their friendship. Light, easy, carefree. But even back then, Eli knew there was something more lurking beneath the surface. He just wasn't ready to face it.

A rustle in the bushes snapped Eli back to the present. His breathing was shallow, his pulse hammering in his chest. Jonah was still frozen beside him, the spear gripped tightly in his hands. The growl came again, but this time it was fainter, moving away from them.

Eli didn't realize he had been holding his breath until he let it out, the relief washing over him in waves. They weren't going to die—not today, at least.

Jonah shot him a look, a mixture of fear and frustration flashing in his eyes. "We need to get out of here," he muttered, his voice shaking. "Before it comes back."

Eli nodded, his throat too tight to respond. His body still felt heavy, weighed down by the adrenaline and the memories that wouldn't stop coming. He could barely focus on what was happening around him, could barely keep up with Jonah's pace as they started to move again.

More memories followed him, like ghosts that refused to stay buried.

They were fifteen now, sitting on the hood of Jonah's dad's old truck, sneaking beers they had stolen from the garage fridge. The stars were out, bright and clear in the night sky, and Jonah was rambling about something—again—while Eli listened quietly. He liked this about Jonah—the way he could fill up the silence without it ever feeling awkward.