The Right Kind of Wrong

2

When I wake, emptiness greeted me with cold dangling arms. I am alone. Did the passengers boarded already? Are we home? Even the oxygen masks were hanging from the ceiling.

I stood from my seat and walked into the cockpit, where unfortunate of the most unfortunates, is incredibly empty of pilots. Any flight attendants were of no sight at all. That is strange.

I went out of the door and the inflated slide was up, like in those plane disasters movies where the passengers just jump of the slide because the plane is so fucked up that the stairs are not even working. The slide was fun but that didn't free me from the dried up feeling that I buried myself in. I took a few steps where some debris lei but they were empty. No sign of life. Good thing the sun is still up.

The sand wasn't helping at all. It was too hot for my soles.

Bags and clothes were everywhere.

It was like any other plane crash movie. But the only fishy in my situation is that; I am fuckin' alone.

My heart started to race and I immediately sprinted off toward the other side of what seems to be an island. "Help!" I tried to cry out but my voice echoed, ricocheted, swallowed up by the raging roar of the majestic sea. I felt tears roll down my face as I tried to push off against the sand, sole against nature. I can feel my muscles pushing themselves with every burst of action potential that my muscle fibers receive from each motor neuron.

I tried to go beyond the maximum oxygen capacity of my lungs and heart that when I stopped, I dropped to my knees, gasping for air, clutching my chest for the heaviness of it. "Help!" I tried again. But the odd thing is, nothing came out! I tried again but no sound was heard. I lost my voice. Fuck! This is not happening.

A weight was like loaded on to my shoulders and I felt cartilages on my back squeak as they compress in between each of my vertebra.

I fell to the ground, defeated.

Then the gust of wind died.

The waves suddenly went mute.

I looked around once more and before I know it, a rustling in the trees caught my eye. There was movement in the forest, among the bushes and the undergrowth. When I looked, the rustling stopped. It sees me, whatever it is.

Lazy and gray clouds hung at the top of the mountain and a cold swept of wind crawled through the sand, embracing me in a freezing brace.

At the corner of my eye, I saw something moved. From the dark forest of the vast unknown, I figure came crawling out. I could make out a shape but I don't know if it is human or just an ape. When the figure stood I know it is one of my kind. I started walking towards it. The good is that it didn't move, it didn't walk out on me. As I got a little closer, about a few meters away, the face that it was wearing, it started to be clear now. I could make out its eyes, the line from his forehead down to the tip of its nose. Long and tangled locks of his hair fall on his shoulder. He's like the modern version of Tarzan but more built and lean. When I got a little closer, only a few meters now, the eyes staring at me, they were his eyes. It's him.

"Keith." The name sounded so strange coming out of my mouth. My voice came back.

When he heard me speak, he cocked his head to one side and crouched down to the sand like that of Tarzan. It seemed curious to I don't know what.

I took a step forward and it moved back. "Keith?" I said once more. It sniffed the air like an animal dipped his chest to the sand. It was so low. "Is that you?" I tried reaching out my hand but it backfired. It recoiled, I mean him, and he recoiled and moved back and made a screeching sound that shot up in spikes in the air.

It gave me goosebumps.

As I covered my ears he stood up with his hind legs, his legs. And then another figure came out from the bushes, another like him. And then another came out. I see. I now know what he was doing; he was calling for reinforcements. Damn.

More Keiths came out and they were growing in numbers. I started to fall back. And when I did, I stubbed my heel against a crate from the plane and fell back on the sand. I am crawling back now, on all fours. They were hunching their backs like a wolf ready to attack its prey. They were haunting, cannibals in the making.

The hair at the nape of my neck stood as they let out a growl that is so low and thick that I know I am at the bottom of the food chain right now. And in their menu, I am the main course of their fine dining.

I started to run, picking myself up and looking at the vast, empty horizon before me. Is this the end of me?

The sand was so thick. It's like quicksand under my soles, making each and every thrust of my legs barely even possible. It's like I'm running on syrup, slowing each of my movements, each of my time.

Adrenaline started pumping to my veins, coursing through each and every branches and turn. I need to get out of here. When I glanced over my shoulders they were right behind my heels with drools of foam at the corner of their mouths, bearing their canines at me. And I can see in their eyes their desire to kill me, to have me for dinner.

I don't know where to go. I don't even know where the hell I am.

As time slowed, I stumbled and now I'm falling to a dark pit. A dark pit that wasn't there before. And then I stopped. I'm at the bottom. For the second that I know I was already safe, I was wrong. The Keiths jump in and they were on top of me, glowering down at my very existence.

Many more came.

So many more.

And then everything went dark.

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