The Scream of Tribulation

Chapter 26

-Day 18
(Hakobe Wheeler)
I wanted one thing; one goddamn thing from this island and that was solitude! What do I receive instead? An abrasive hick from the southern slums of Alabama trailing my ass everywhere I go. I thought nothing could top the lackluster of this situation than being trapped in a humid forest with her. That was until Whitney's booming twang echoed in a half-mile radius, attracting anyone nearby. An odd couple follow the awful voice. Darion Haul and Ali'kimaru Yveven, both of ebony skin as am I. The four of us couldn't have been more diverse. Darion did not talk much at all; an appreciated incentive for my ears. Then there was Ali'kimaru; just as animated as Whitney but in her own special way.
    "The gods above have blessed us all with the gift of paradise after life!: These were the greeting words Ali approached the two of us with through her dense Jamaican accent. I mindlessly reached for my revolver to shoot myself, but I regretfully decided to endure the pain of more company.

-Day 19
No more, I demand to myself. No more people are welcome. Not another damn person will touch us. I vowed to all the others that followed me we would not bring any aid to the people; we are only to keep ourselves alive. Ali thought otherwise. "We are to help others in need of aid. We have been blessed with this island for a reason! The gods saw purity in our souls, and we mustn't let them down!" Today marks the day I find a person I despise more than Whitney.
    The majority of us have agreed (for once) to set camp near the location we all have awakened from. This would provide us with all the supplies we needed until we were rescued while keeping our presence incognito. This idea unfortunately had downfalls. Every day around midday, I'd pass out. Everyone would fall to the ground with me. Minutes later, we we wake back to ourselves, with no change in ourselves or the environment. There is no explanation to be found of this phenomenon, so I set this occurrence on the list of many other supernatural situations that have taken place here. Right under the sudden apparition of this unknown land, giant bugs lurking at night, I make a mental note of the sudden faints. I begin to grow blind to the unnatural.
    Another issue with our location of encampment is the one thing I specifically requested I did not want: more people to lug around. It never came across my mind to consider how much higher the chances of a lone wanderer to stumble on our vulnerable campsite of abnormal survivors. Today, another pair have fallen into our possession. Yvette Rhode; your typical stuck-up prick with a PhD in some useless degree other than bragging rights; Yvette makes sure not to abandon this power to say she has a degree.
Manny Danville; eighteen year old mixed man; feeble, may I add. "Fresh from the ward," he mumbles with his eyes darting all over the place. "Recently treated for schizophrenia." Yvette scoffs greatly at this, as if he was childish for saying this. "I got about a month until my shot wears off. Then it gets bad."
I have a spiritually awakened Jamaican lady, a loud-mouthed hillbilly, a snobby bitch, an antisocial rock, and a mentally unstable spazz. "This is fine." I cough.

It's the following night, the fire crackles before me, the orange light shines on my face, and as the flames twirl in a waltz, I twirl around my hand a cut of hemp rope, wondering if it would be enough to tie a noose for myself. After some trial and error of my experimentation, I have concluded my theory improbable.

-Day 21
The evening welcomes me with salt; much saltier than a mouthful of the ocean water. Ali comforts Manny behind a tree, hysterically crying. I become more convinced overtime that Yvette secretly holds a pen an paper and  writes down everything she could complain about, because I've heard about three pages of them today. Whitney can't keep her lips off one of the new people that have intruded our camp once again. Dan Paisley s his name and I couldn't tell if his beer belly or his arrogant ego was fatter. He had a similar twang to his voice like Whitney's and he had tendencies to shout incomprehensible comments followed by a gurgle chortle, with Whitney right by his side, laughing too hard at his said "jokes" to be a real laugh. The only two people I have found any decency in is Darion and the final newcomer, Kala Hoover; an Australian beaut, Olympic swimmer, and bronze medal winner.  Darion doesn't talk much at all and Kala can see the chaotic randomness of the group of people I'm stuck with. With Kala here, I only thought once how long it would take for me to bleed out if I sliced my wrists open.

-Night 22
Kala and I took charge of this group early this morning. We demanded to migrate somewhere else. "Waiting is doing us no good here, and if we want a chance of getting saved, we have to get a move on it!"
"We are already saved!" Ali adds joyously.
I roll my eyes. "We leave now. We will take one more search at the supply drop, then we are heading one direction we choose."
To my relief, they all obey. Kala and I lead them to the supplies, we take as much as we can comfortably hold, and head west.

As the day slipped from our reach, the stars never come out. Clouds, heavy clouds drift above us. I felt a tap on my shoulder. Another tap hits my palm. Three more taps on different parts of my body, and seconds later, I'm soaked in rain; heavy rain from heavy clouds. The seven of us run for shelter, but there is no resorts other than the dried up trees on the tree line. "Follow me," Kala demands. Sprinting for the ebony rocks on the shore. "These boulders may have some shelter!"
By the time the rest of us have caught up to Kala, she gazes at the rock in front of her with an ecstatic expression. She laughs, obviously appalled. "How could there be a cave here? The ground is but sand!"
"A cave is a cave! Get your asses in before you freeze your cocks off!" Dan aggressively spits between his pissed stained teeth. I add the cave by the ocean to the list of abnormal occurrences. Everybody follows dan into the damp cave. "I'll make a little cave outta you little lady." Dan whispers, but the acoustics of the cave were to grand.
"This will do for the night. At least we can get dry." Kala proceeds to unzip her bag. "Anyone have any dry clothes?
"There's a white shirt in my bag," Darion offers in a hushed toned. Most of his voice was drowned out by the rain in the distance, the giggling of Whitney, and the frantic panting of Manny.
"Give me the shirt," Kala demands.
Constant rummaging echos from Kala but we all stand in anticipation, wondering what she is doing. With the crack of a match and the rumble of a low-lit torch, we have light and heat. We are saved from the storm, all because of Kala.

-Day Unknown

My extensive list of questionable events on this island have been answered once I explored the cave. All of my questions eliminated; the bugs, the fainting midday of our campsite, this cave we have dwelled in since the night of the storm; all of my questions have been enlightened into answers, and there is nothing left buzzing my mind but determination. Determination permeates in all of us cave-dwellers now that we know the truth about this island. Now that we know our purpose here, it is time to act. It's time to kill. We must kill to survive.