Flight 203

CHAPTER 8

Tom's stomach growled angrily. "I'm starving, what about you."
"Same." Maria replied. She walked into the cave, and brought out two apples. "Lets eat, and then we can make this place comfortable." She looked at the sun. It was halfway across the sky.
They finished eating, and walked outside. "I'll get supplies for two beds, and you can work on finding anything important. Weapons, food, logs, stuff like that." Maria said. "Just be careful, for god's sake."
Tom nodded and grabbed his axe. "Good-bye for now." He said, and wandered away.
The trees blocked the sun, and it was almost pitch black. A small breeze drifted through the darkness, rustling bushes and trees. Every time they moved, Tom jumped and tightened his grip on the axe.
After a while, found a small fireplace; its ambers still glowing with heat. A handheld lighter sat beside it, and he picked it up, putting it in his pocket. Then a man jumped out of a bush and pointed a small pistol at Tom's skull.
Tom jumped back, dropping his axe and throwing his hands in the air.
The man was old, probably in his seventies. He had white hair matted with blood, and a large cut in his left shoulder."Go away." He said, his voice shaking.
The man's hand was trembling so badly, if he pulled the trigger, it would probably miss. And Tom knew that.
He grabbed the man's arm and twisted it. The gun fell from his grasp and he cried out in agony. The bone cracked, and Tom let go. The man cradled his broken arm as it hung limply at his side.
Tom picked up the gun and pointed it at the man. "No, you go." He said in a mocking tone.
The man looked up with pleading eyes. Tom's face softened, and he lowered the pistol. Then he turned and walked away.
Tom got back to camp when the sun was setting over the horizon. "I hope you found something good, because I was worried something got you!" Maria said with concern in her eyes.
"Oh, you'll be happy." Tom took out the gun, two loaded magazines, and the lighter.
"Oh my god!" She cried, running and grabbing the lighter. "I had made a fire pit while I was waiting for you, but I didn't have anything to light it with." She ran inside.
Tom chuckled and walked in.
Maria was sitting over a hole surrounded by rocks, pressing the button and igniting a flame with sticks that were in the hole. A large fire crackled up, and Tom coughed from all the smoke.
"I found an old man with the gun. I had to break his arm, or he would've shot me." He put the extra magazines down in another basket Maria made.
He looked over at the beds. There were two long logs about a foot apart, with a blanket of leaves filling in the gap.
"I like how you made the fire pit in the cave." He said. "Now, if it rains, the fire won't go out." He laid down on the bed. In a few minutes, he fell asleep.
Tom woke up. He looked beside him, and Maria lay in her bed. He sat up and looked around. The sun had just risen above the clouds; about 6 or 7 o-clock. The fire was out, and Tom shivered in the early morning cold. Dew dropped from the ceiling, so he wiped off his wet face.
He stood up without pain, and he looked under his "bandages". It was nearly healed, but he kept them on to ensure the wound didn't reopen.
Tom walked over to the food basket, and grabbed a pack of salted peanuts. He tore open the bag and plopped one into his mouth, moaning as the taste filled his mouth. A feeling of warmth spread throughout his body.
Maria groaned, and Tom turned around. She had her hands above her head, and was reaching for the sky. Tom ate another peanut.
"Want a bag? There's one more left." He asked.
"I'm good." She replied. "I just want some berries." She walked out of the cave and into the camp. Tom followed, and then Maria screamed.