Dream Again

Day 329

Dark storm clouds roll on the horizon.
It's time.
With dark clouds rolling and already winds picking up nature will be our back up. A storm will force everyone to seek shelter meaning we should be able to make an escape.
"Let me handle them," I reiterate.
"We're coming back for you," River mutters to me, we're speaking alone, doing a final check of the sea cave. Luke is still painfully afraid of water, we'll be lucky to get him in it to hide though he insists he can do that.
"I know we've been here eleven months," I say, quietly, "No one's coming to save us. It's fine. But if I die I die, at this point it's a crap shoot between random tropical disease and one of the Society."
"We're coming back for you. That's what we do. It's what you'd do for either of us," she says.
"You don't know that. I realize the island makes me seem like an okay person and I don't think I am, I know I'm not I know me, I've always known me. You just got this part of me which is less self centered than the rest," I say.
"Maybe that's what counts," she says.
I don't know what optimism that is but I know how little I deserve it.
I take off my shirt and the other two delight in smearing me with bird blood, this is funnier than it sounds, really, if you're half naked on a windswept beach and your only family in the world is holding pieces of a dead bird and is smearing you with still warmblood —it's very funny. It's quite entertaining in the moment it really is.
Soon I'm suitably filthy, and disgusting. We hike most of the way to the south beach together, before I split off to confront them on the east side. The prisoners are all housed on the west side of the island, in a make shift trap and bound together.
I keep my eyes from that, focusing on stumbling in the sand before me. I kept the boots on, mostly because of the coming treck to safety. It probalby isn't in character but it is better than being barefoot.
naturally the see me approach immediately, and a few of the men run up to stop me from entering camp. One calls I assume for Max because he appears presently.
The last year hasn't treated him too poorly, he's mostly clean shaven, if filthy, with longer hair and his once fine clothes are long gone, instead hes' in cargo and jsut a vest, of course wearing his longbow. Wait it's the folding kind. I can't acknowledge that he's cool but that's cool.
"Help me," I whisper, falling to my knees fuck you Ms. Stacy I can be believable in drama class should have cast me as the lead in that pageant. I would have made an excellent Prince Charming not Tree number one.
"What's happned?" Max asks.
"I—I have no food and—-," I look down at my bloody hands, forcing them to shake, "I'm so hungry."
"I already told you you weren't welcome here," Max says, almost kindly, but there's poison beneath the honey in his words. He's glad to get to turn me away.
"I'ts not my fault," I say, shaking my head, blood dripping down my face.
"What?" Max asks.
"It's not my fault," I stand up swiftly and push his chest, "I told you it's not my fault."
"What are you talking about? What happened? Where's the girl?" Max asks.
Where's the Girl? why does he care about River what was that concern in his eyes? Now it's gone but even so.
"And—and the other one where are they?" He asks.
"I'm tainted," I say, raising a blood hand to his face. I stick two bloody fingers into his mouth, "Now so are you."
Max jerks back, finally realizing that I'm saying I cannibalized them.
"Where are they? Where's the girl you idiot?" Max asks, snatching me by the front of my shirt. He shakes me fiercely, "Where is she?"
"You didn't care enough to save her," I say quietly, "you were never going to be enough."
He throws me to the ground as I laugh madly. In the distance at the other end of the camp its still silent. So they're working on it.
"You know what I am," I say.
"I don't know who you are," he says.
"Yes you do. We're one and the same. I'm just like you. We never believed they'd ever want us back. We didn't belong there to begin with," I say, slowly crawling to my knees, covered in sand and caked blood. "You can't even belong here how must that feel? Like a dog that has to live on a chain its whole life because it bites."
"Someone bring me a suitably large rock," Max sighs, holding out a hand.
"Not afraid of little me are you?" I ask, smiling with bloodied teeth.
"Get Ivan actually, time to put him out of his misery," Max says, stepping back.
"Genuine question, what's Ivan's got to do with it?" I ask, crawling backward in the sand.
There are shouts from down the beach, cries of anger, fear. That means the plan is working.
"Goddman it," Max snarls, looking at me then at the commotion down at west end, "THEY'RE TAKING THE PRISONERS!!!"
I laugh, climbing to my feet. One of the men moves to snatch me and I dart backward, just out of reach.
"Leave him—secure the prisoners," Max calls, before turning to run towards the commotion. He draws his bow and sheaths an arrow, while running, an impressive feat if I weren't trying to stop him.  Wind is whipping so fiercely I doubt he'll be able to make a clear shot, but I'm also not about to find out. I run after him, he's outpacing me and so are the others but I'm gaining with each step. Wind is blowing in our faces and whipping sand up in our vision. He can't make a shot yet.
Something body slams me to the ground, i fall and roll, barely able to catch myself as I skid into the frothy tide.
"Not thinking of giong somewhere were you?"
Ivan is standing over me, a rusted machete in hand. Remote desert island beard and sand look good on him, and his eyes are set to kill. Looks like he's enjoying his work.
"You don't want to die tonight," I say, backing up.
He laughs, raising the machete. Rust means it's going to be weakened. If I can kick the blade it'll probably snap.
Except I can't kick the blade.
He swings it fully at me, and I can barely duck out of the way in time to avoid being decapated. I back up into the frothing surf. If I can get into the water I might be able to slow him down. Except the crashing waves will slow us both down.
I try to dart past but he blocks my way with one swing of his machete. I duck under it again, this time landing a blow to his leg. I duck behind him but he spins, getting a slice across the middle of my back. I cry out as sand and salt water immediately hit the wound.
He laughs, readying the blade for a killing blow.
I jump, kicking him square in the chest. It should be in the throat but he's pretty tall. That throws him off balance for his swing to narrowly miss one of my favorite limbs (all my limbs are my favorites). I kick again, the water is now frothy with my blood. He swings again at my chest, angry now, I duck two more blows, taking the time to run forward and kick, this time hitting him in the chin. He stumbles backward, slashing and unfortunately hitting my leg. It's cut, not off, but I feel a warm rush of blood into the cold water. We both fall into the surfe, and he struggles to rise, as I scramble up painfully.
I get up first, lighter and smaller, and run forward, kicking his face. He grabs my foot and flings me back into the sand.
"You're not going to win," he coughs, climbing to his feet.
"I know. But your'e going to lose, that's all I need," I say.
The fact that I'm a distraction dawns on him, as he raises his machete again. I try to dart past him and he trips me, throwing me to the ground again. This time I fall onto the wounded leg, and the pain of the wound adn my back in salt water numbs me. He raises the machete for a killing blow to my neck, one I'm aware I wont' get away from.
And the machete stops.
There, in the sand blown dark, Luke stands, his shirt looped around the machete holding it back. In his other hand he holds his knife. He plunges it directly into Ivan's side, pulling it right back out.
"Finish him," He throws the knife in my direction.
I catch it, hands slick with blood and water but the diver's knife falls into my grip easily.
"I'VE GOT HIM, RUN!" I shout, using the time to crawl to my feet.
Luke obeys, dropping his shirt and running out of the surf, he's afraid of the water. And he came to help me. Like I told him not to.
Ivan spins around to me, prepared to strike again.
I duck under his arm, slicing up at the artery leading to his heart. He screams as I bolt behind him, slashing wildly. He hits both of us as I crawl onto his back, plunging the knife between the ribs, directly into the lungs. That sweet sound of all the air leaving his body as he falls, that gasp as no air can get in. And he knows he's slain. "NO!" Max is running towards us, notching an arrow, just visible through the swirling sand and rain. He can't get a shot off but he tries.
I stab again, another to the neck,  directly behind the neck bones, piercing the trachea and cutting out through the jugular. We fall tot he ocean, Ivan's face down in the sand. I drive one more blow beneath his arm. Directly into the heart. If the others by some miracle weren't fatal this is.  To seal it I stab through the lower back, both kidneys pierced, another fatal wound. It's fatal for me too. The extra time means Max can easily reach me, he doesn't need an arrow and I've lost precious time I could have used to escape.
Bloody knife in hand I climb off the corpse, and turn to run down the beach, preparing to face Max should he come for me. If he charges I may be able to kill him as he kills me.
Max clearly debates. I see something flash thorugh his eyes. A moment of hesitation.
And then he goes to his dead friend. He lets me go, and he runs to Ivan's side, falling to the sand, and desperately turning him over. He doesn't know the extant of the damage yet? But Ivan is limp in his arms.
"No, no, talk to me, you're all right," Max gasps, I hear his desperate pleas just above the wind.
And I bolt.
His delay is all I need and I need no encouragement to simply run. Run like my life depends on it. Which of course it does. I won't keep it very much longer. Not with my back cut open and my leg raw and bleeding. But I run anyway. Because if nothing matters. I might as well try. It's not like I'll ever get it right. So might as well keep running.
The storm is growing louder and louder in the distance, as I mount the familiar path up to the beach. The last time I look over my shoulder, Max is still kneeling in the surf with Ivan's corpse, cradling his freind's body, even if all hope of life is gone. And I wonder that I never thought he could care for anything else. And I don't know why it didn't make sense before. Wer'e all someone's monster. He as always mine. Now I'm his.
I make it up the beach and to the entrance of the woods, River and Luke are waiting, Luke's bloodied I assume from Ivan.
"Run!" river screams.
"Thought I'd walk actually," I choke, my sides are splitting and I can feel my head going light from lack of blood, "Why'd you wait?"
"Run you idiot," River takes my arm, Luke the other one, and together we run into the darkening forest. I'm dripping blood all the way, my only consolation is that that will wash away with the storm.
The path through the island is barely visible. In that i can't see it at all. But River and Luke must for they drag me the right direction. It feels like hours but I'm sure it's minutes. My wounds are screaming in pain and my head is spinning. I'm still loosing bloody from my back. Why am I still fighting as I bleed out? Is this how I go? Or is it how all of us go someday?
We trip down to the beach, the wind nearly blowing us off our feet. The sea caves are nearly flooded but we wade anwyway, Luke doesn't even hesitate at the roaring waves, though he cries out. Well. We hold either of his arms he doesn't have a choice to hesitate.
River drags us both into the dark cave. We have a small fire ready but we likely won't get it lit.
"I've got you," she tugs him in, "Fuck—fuck James that's really bad."
"What?" My head is spinning, "Oh—you mean me? Tis but a flesh wound."
"First actual pop culture reference you've made shut up," River mutters, stripping off her shirt, and turning me around.
"Oh yuck," Luke winces.
"You may be right it is a flesh wound, still," she says, wrapping her shirt tightly around my chest.
"Water?" I ask.
Luke hands me a split coconut. The coconut milk is better for hydration actually. I'm still probably going to die of infection if not blood loss since I don'T know if we can stop the wounds. I painfully bring my leg up to examine.
"You two okay?" I breath, handing Luke back his knife, "Thanks for that."
"sure," Luke smiles.
"Yeah I'm fine, Max got a few shots off at us," River says.
"Then you distracted him," Luke says, moving his leg up to reveal the shin is cut, not badly, probably wouldn't even need stitches.
"You should not have waited, I told you two to go," I sigh.
"I know," River glares at me.
"No man left behind," Luke says.
"What happened to Ivan?" River asks.
"Oh—I don't think he'll be bothering us anymore," I say.
"Why?" Luke asks.
"Because I don't htink he's alive anymore," I drastically understate how truly dead he is.
"You got him again?" Luke asks, "I just got like, his side it was icky I didn't—I couldn't do it."
"That's fine. Yeah I got him again," I say.
"Where?" River asks.
"His throat," I say, quietly.
"That would do it," she nods.
"Ugh," Luke shudders, "It was awful. I just saw him trying to kill you like that and—,"
"It's okay. He was—not doing well after being here so long. It's fine now," I say, squeezing his knees.
"Yeah, we did it. The prisoners all ran, I mean I hope they find shelter from the storm but," River says.
"Ah then they die free," I say.
"You'd rather die running from a storm than people?" River asks.
"Sure. I'll always choose that. Die free," I shrug.
"Me too I guess," Luke nods, "And they can hide. The creatures out there don't seem to hurt people."
"No, just people do," I say, dryly, looking down at my bloody leg. I know my back is worse, "Ah—I'm probably not going to live through this one guys. Odds of infection are very high given I immediately at the tide water and the machete was rusted. I'll be lucky to die of a run of the mill staff infection and not tetanus."
"Oh you're not rid of us that easy," Luke says, tugging over the backpack.
"We—might have stolen shit," River says, smirking.
"Unless it's a tetanus shot that's not going to help any antibiotic ointment use on Luke," I say.
"Shut up a minute," Luke says, opening the backpack. They tug out a few bags of waht looks like dried fish, and then from within the bag Luke with draws a beautiful, faded blue pelican case.
"That's your dads," I realize, my heart leaping in my chest.
"Do you and however many Ph.Ds you have know how to use a satellite phone?" River grins.
"Oh fuck yes," I breath.
"I can use it. They must not have known how—or it quit working," Luke says, fiddling with the clasps.
"I can fix it," I say, immediately.
"We can be home by tomorrow," River says. And I've never heard her voice so full of hope.
The case springs open, to reveal soft grey styrofoam cells. Inside them is carefully packed some looks like recording equipment. And very neatly. A completely smashed state light phone.
"No," Luke's voice shake as he withdraws it.
Tears fill River's eyes, "What—,"
"What the hell," I finish, slowly helping Luke lift it from the case. We hold it like a corpse. Some god's forgotten promise. Smashed metal wires. Irreparably destroyed.
"No," River shakes her head.
"How—I know it was okay when we packed it," Luke looks at us.
"That was intentional," I say, softly, "Someone did this on purpose."
"Who?" Luke asks.
"Someone who didn't want to be found," I say, quietly, thinking only of Max's eyes as he dropped to the sand by Ivan's body. Hollow, and yet so childlike. Like he'd never lost something before. And he was ten years old, watching his dog die before him.
"Someone, something, didn't want us to be found," I say.
"Max," River says.
"Or someone on the ground. We know the plane was sabotaged. We don't know how. Let alone why. But someone didn't want us to be found," I amend.
River hugs her knees, tears streaming down her face.
I crawl over to them, putting an arm around each of their shoulders, painfully.  We're all naked down to our underthings, which are tattered, covered in blood, and shivering. They both begin to cry, miserably, Luke still holding the broken sattlelite phone. His father's last chance of protection. And it too is stolen as his childhood.
Outside the storm rages, rain blowing into the mouth of the cave. We've been ignoring it, simply huddled together to conserve warmth.
So it's a surprise when the storm quiets, for a moment.
We all look up, slowly, as the cave gets just a bit darker. And there's the soft steady huff of breath. Both of them lean into me and I tighten my grip like my bruised and battered form will somehow save them.
Red eyes blink, and slowly the shape of the creature's head becomes visible in the entrance of the cave. It's so large it's head nearly blocks out the entire opening, dark like a tree covered in moss, and shielded by viens. Red, reptilian eyes stare at us. And a clawed hand grips the ceiling for support, with claws as long as my forearm, and five fingers covered in moss and bark.
We shrink into each other, and I feel my own pulse quicken dangerously. The creature could so easily reach in and pluck one of us out.
Yet it does not.
"Please," River whispers. I don't know what she's pleading for even.
The creature fixes its eyes on us. And it moves one clawed hand closer. It stinks of the forest, bark and soil. The hand itself is twisted like so many tree limbs. But ribbed with claws. Sweat runs down my face and spine and I feel Luke stiffen in my arm.
"Please don't hurt us," she whispers, "We want to go home too."
The monster moves back, removing it's hand as we quake in terror.
Then swiftly as it came, it goes. The only proof it was here at all is the soft splash as it wades back out into the water.
Shaking, we all cling to each other, too terrified to be cold. I press my head into River's hair, and feel tears slide down my own face. I came so close to losing them twice to night.
Somehow we're still here. After everything we're still here. And we have each other. I look at the broken promise of the blue case. Apparently that's all we'll ever get.