The Island

(Chapter 13) Survival (Revised)

For the next few weeks its more or less quiet. Every once and a while one of the bigger dinosaurs walks past our tree. We go unnoticed, which makes me happy. We've made considerable progress on the tree house. The floor boards don't bend as much as they did before. Most of our roof is the tree itself and some fallen branches. Our time has been preoccupied by food gathering. Our water source has stayed constant, now our stomachs don't hurt every time we take a drink. We've taken apart the raft mostly because the raptors tore it to shreds. I have been using the parts for tools, trying to sharpen them just in case those raptors decide we are too dangerous to be kept alive. Which I do believe. . . I feel like they are allowing us to live. I think at anytime, they could just show up and kill every last one of us.

My hands shake every time I come across a red board. The sudden reminder that I killed someone. The reminder that I have blood on my hands and if I am ever rescued I'll have to live with that my entire life. How ever long that may be.

Night has taken a whole new meaning for me, I like that I am concealed in darkness, that only a few creatures would be able to see me. I feel like I have thrown a blanket over myself, safe from whatever dangerous lay outside of those covers.

We have tried to leave a message on the beach, laying branches all over the sand spelling out "help", but every day I go back there, its completely empty, just disappeared. I have my suspicions that maybe those raptors don't want us to leave.

I don't know why I feel like they are studying us, they can't be, right? I mean, would they know how to study, figure things out, make observations? Maybe the fruit is making that happen, maybe, just maybe, that fruit has a mystical power behind it, but that would be wrong. No such thing as magic and superpowers, just made up by people with strong imaginations. I set my theories to the side long enough to craft my first weapon, its mostly a small spear. The only thing I would have to worry about are splinters. 

That night I awaken to my body shaking violently. At first I thought it was a stroke, but after it stopped I began to itch and my skin felt like something was trying to break free. Do you ever get so mad that the part of you that's mad tries to jump out, but you suppress it down. Well, that's how it felt, like a part of me was wanting to come out. I suppressed it as much as I could, but before I knew it I blacked out.

When I awoke, I was on the beach, my cloths torn to shreds. My head ached and my body felt bruised, did I get into a fight?

I left myself off the sand and look around trying to get my barrings, but the trees and the beach all look the same. I don't know where I am. My head is on a swivel, trying to understand, trying to remember what happened, but nothing comes to mind, nothing, just blank.

I call out into the woods, hoping to hear Melissa or Henry calling back, but nothing responds. So, I bundle up my torn shirt, whatever is left of my pants and begin to walk. I take myself around the beach, it's not long before I find the remains of our torn raft. Henry and Melissa look like they are ready for war when I get back.

"David?" Melissa asks.

I nod, "Yes?"

She gulps and looks away.

Henry covers his eyes and walks forward, "Dude, what happened to your boxers man?"

I look down and sure enough something is sticking out, "Fuck!" I shove my torn cloths in front of my shame, "You didn't see it, right?"

Henry laughs, "No, don't worry we didn't see a thing."

I hear Melissa chuckle a bit, "Nope, not a thing."

I feel myself blush, "Welp, I need knew cloths."

Henry then shoves me, "What happened to you man?"