Dream Again

Day 513

We usually sleep in some shelter on a beach, but often times we go to the sea caves if there may be a storm. The tide however has risen so high there's no palce to sit or lay in the caves. So we resort to hiding out on the beaches. But not well enough.
I wake up to muffled noises, human noises. That's bad in itself.
I leap up and there's a hand on my arm. Max has the rusted machete across
River's neck, and he's holding her up. He finally looks so much worse for the wear, filthy, hair hanging in greasy ringlets. Clothes tattered. Bow still upon his back, and he has her in a death grip, machete to her neck.
A gaunt man is the one who tried to snatch my arm. He has a knife too but I easily wrestle free, darting out of reach, he brandishes the knife and I feel Luke's automatically in my hand. I had it last and slept with it beside me. Now it's unsheathed in my grip.
"Go. James run. Run. Right now," River chokes, fear in her eyes as Max holds her tightly against him, that rusted blade so tight against her throat it draws blood.
"Let her go, Max, it wasn't her. It was me," I say, slowly.
"Oh I know," Max says. His voice is laden with hate, "Put the knife down. And step this way."
"Don't' do it. James don't. Run. Just run," River says, staring into my eyes. And she knows my thoughts better than I. She knows for a fact I won't run. "Run. I'm telling you to do it. Run."
"Let her go, do what you want with me let her go. She has parents waiting," I say, stepping forward. I lower the knife slowly to the sand.
"Don't do it. James please," River says, "Please. Please. Just go."
"Have me as you like, but let her go. You can take my life," I say, stepping away from the knife.
"Grab him," Max says.
The other man does, taking both my hands.
Max moves the machete back, and River tugs forward, trying to twist away.
And he slices her throat.
The sand is bathed in blood. That's the first thing I see. Then the light fade from her eyes. I've seen death many times before. And I never expected a happy ending.
I move in a haze. Kicking I free myself from the man holding me. He tries to keep hold with fists knotted in my hair. Twisting an arm around his neck I snap it, dropping him to the sand to catch her as she falls. She's bled out, falling into my arms her hair and face covered in blood. It's not flowing which means her heart stopped beating. I hold her anyway.
I have no words as grief fills my throat. It should ahve been. Again. It should have been me. No. No not you.
Her body is limp in my arms. Eyes staring. I don't look up for Max. I don't care if he kills me. But he's gone. His work here is done. He was always going to kill her. Just like I was always going to be alone.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry," I weep, holdig River close to me one last time. Another person I failed to protect.
I carry her back to the cliffside. Where the ground is soft. And I'll always know where to find her. I have to bury her too. I dress her in the last clothes I have. The knife is gone. And so is what's left of my heart. Someone else I lost. Because I wasn't good enough. I should have stayed awake. I should have picked a better place to hide. I should have protected her from the start. I never should have believed I could suceed this time.
Digging her grave takes the rest of the day. But I won't let any of them touch her. I won'T let them hurt her. No marker. Nothing. I lay her in the ground to sleep one final time, with kisses upon her face, for me, for her parents who did love her who don't get to bring their little girl home.
I dig with my cupped hands, weeping bitterly. The tears won't stop coming. Maybe she'd want that. No. She liked happy endings.
I sing 'good life', slowly, as I lay her in the earth. I wash her hair as best I can with salt water, and tear my pants to bind her neck. So she looks as though she's sleeping. I put her hands across her chest like she liked to sleep. And I leave her necklaces, her brothers remains, about her nearly severed neck. Bury them all together.
And then I put the earth upon her. Handful by paints taking handful. I can't let them finder. So I smooth the earth over her. No sign she's here except a boulder I move upon the grave. I write her address, scratching the stone with another. 1845 Olive St. like some reminder. That way if they ever come. They'll know that means her. But I want to do it myself. I'll bring her home myself.
And now I know how.
Max isn't finished iwth me. And if I'm right we're the only two people left on the island. He's hunting me. I know. He has five arrows left. He wants a hunt. That's what brought him to the pacific. A hunt.
But I already warned him. I'm the monster. I am his monster. What makes him think I'm the prey?