Dream Again

Day 331

It takes two days for the storm to break. By then we've cleaned up as best we can, bound our wounds with the tatters of our clothes, and run out of food.
And so we emerge from the cave, our nearly empty backpack, now storing the useless blue case. We can't bring ourselves to get rid of it, even if the phone is broken beyond repair.
The island looks little better. The storm felled trees, and shifted the sand of the beach. The survivors are scattered, and we find none alive. Some are dead from falling trees. Some appear to have simply finally succumbed to the elements. Some drown so they ran out to sea, perhaps on purpose. Others, more obviously, are victims of arrow wounds.
The creatur'es tracks, large, stump like holes accented by claws, are obvious in the mud. We don't follow them, though there's no real purpose to them anyway. It seems it too wandered the island surveying the wreckage of the stomr. I'm sure it's not the first storm the island's seen. We're likely moving into the season for it? I'd guess? A storm brought us here. And a storm delivered many.
There's no sign of Max. He seems to have gone on a hunting spree, but I'd bet he took took shelter from the worst winds. We dare to venture to the south beach, looking for any survivors who live. There's none.
But at the place Ivan died there's a cross, fashioned out branches, and driven resolutely into the sand. Ti's tied together with the strips of cloth from garments. Clearly different cloth, matching if memory serves the bodies we found with arrow wounds.
"Well what a normal and healthy way to deal with his grief," I say, nodding.
"How creepy of him," River says at the exact same time.
"I'm blaming you to as why I'm so sarcastic," Luke mutters.
"Taking this to mean Poundland Robin Hood is still alive and hunting?" I ask.
"Yeah, let's get out of here. This island should be big enough for all of us," River says, "Let's just go north and try to keep out of sight. Maybe he's got his revenge?"
"Oh I don't think so," I say, holding a strand of black fabric.
"What's that?" Luke asks.
"Mine," I tug on my shirt, "Look my shirt shredded when Ivan did his bit. Looks like he found some. I'll take that as promise."
"We should go," River says.
"Where, we're on an island?" Luke asks, looking at us.
"Back to the beach by the cliffs. We can retreat to the sea caves, he might be able to swim after us but I'd like to see him try to come in when we're all brandishing sticks. It's an easy retreat," I reason.
"Agreed, it's not that small of an island, and based off the number of bodies we've found Max is down a lot of followers," River says.
"We should probably start burying bodies. Not just for moral reasons but sanitation ones," I say, wincing a little, "I'll move them if you want but we may need to start digging."
"No. Neither of you are in any condition to. James your back is torn open and you're limping, Luke you should rest that leg as well and certainly not be near bodies, and holes, with open wounds," River says.
"We could bury them at sea then," Luke points out, "That's no digging."
"No," I say, "We can't."
"Why?" River asks.
"Because if we do their families can't identify them," I say, heavily, "No remains left. Even if we aren't found till all of us are dead. Then at least if we're buried on shore any family you may have gets the closure of how long you survived and likely with skeletal evidence how you died."
"You're right," River says, but I can see in ehr eyes she doesn't think anyone is ever coming.
They likely aren't. We don't speak of it now, not anymore. We don't talk about a rescue. We hadn't for months till the sattelite phone. And now? There's no hope.
We go back to the far side of the island, avoiding the forest as much as possible. We'll keep to our beach. Who knows where Max is hiding. I assume he survived by that. But maybe not, he may have been injured I don't know. And I don't want to think about him.
Because we make a fire on the cliffside. Once it's dark out you can't see the smoke and anyway. There's a creature off in these woods. No one is going to be messing around now. So we make a fire. And we try to distract Luke from the sattelite phone. River caught birds, and Luke and I washed one another's wounds, and clean them.
"Should I cauterize it?" River asks.
"No! This isn't a movie. Burns infect more easily than broken skin," I say.
"Okay then Hollywood did not tell me that."
"No good job I did!"
We wash our wounds and wrap them in the cleanest things we have, our only shirts. This means that I'm shirtless, so is Luke, and River is wearing just her bloodstained shirt, jacket sacrificed for dressings.
And it's a miserable dinner. And a terrible day. But the stars are back out, and we're here together. We're trying ot make Luke laugh and mostly succeed when we try to prove we know how to dance.
"Has anyone ever told you your'e an amazing dancer?" River asks.
"Not at all," I say.
"Someone should. It's not going to be me. But someone probably should," River says, "Where do you know how to dance like that?"
"I don't know—trying to fit in,, i wasn't good at that," I laugh.
"come here, bet you don'T know this one," Luke finally jumps up, and comes to join us. He takes River's hand, whispering something in her ear. They both laugh and immediately and begin dancing in sync.
"What is that?" I ask, as they laugh.
"It's called the Cha cha slide, and it is a staple of school parties in America," River answers, taking my hand, "Come on."
"i don't know what we're doing," I say.
"It is not hard,the song is, it tells you what to do," Luke says, clapping his hands, "IT's very stupid."
"It's so stupid," River assures me.
But it makes them laugh all night.
And looking at their faces in the firelight. I want two things to be true. And they will never be. I want to remain right here, like this, forever. And to never leave. I'm right here. My friends are safe and happy. Luke is smiling again. And River is talking with her hands like she does and trying to braid my hair. And dawn doesn't come with any new trials. I keep them here like this.
But that also means we never leave. Staying here like this, means we're somehow trapped on this island forever, if this moment lasts forever. And I don't want that. I don't want that for them. They have homes waiting. Happy ones so they say.
So I can't treasure them here even in my mind. Even as somehow I know I'm losing them. The blood from my ankle has already soaked through, and my back feels little better. It's unlikely I'll live without tetanus or other infection. I know we're all, always, dying. But I don't want it to be so soon. I'd like a few more happy memories. Please. Just a few.