Flight 203

CHAPTER 9

Tom ran out to join Maria, grabbing the pistol and strapping his axe to his belt on the way out.
The man Tom had found in the forest was devouring raspberries off the bush. Several dozen branches were snapped and on the ground.
The man looked at Maria and Tom, who was now pointing the gun squarely at his head, and put his hands up. He was on his feet, but fell to his knees.
"Give me a reason not to shoot you." Tom said sternly.
"Because I'm a human being, with a soal and a mind and feelings. You wouldn't kill me. You don't have the guts."
Tom put his index finger on the trigger. "Try me." He said.
"But! But, even if did fire, the noise would surely attract unwanted visitors."
"Your right for a dumbnut. Now, give me a reason not to slam your face in with my axe. I'm really itching for blood."
He glanced at Maria, who just stood there with a blank stare. The man didn't respond.
"Do I do it?" He asked her.
"Soak him dry." She responded, her facial features not changing a bit.
"Please don't!" The man cried. "I'll do anything! ANYTHING!"
"Like fix the bush?" The man didn't say anything, and Tom took a step closer, raising his axe above his brown hair.
"Have a heart." The man said calmly. "Go to Hell." And Tom slammed the axe down on his head.
Tom walked out of the palm frond door and took his axe from his belt buckle. He found a small tree about twenty feet from the camp, and began hacking away at its trunk.
After half-an-hour, the tree emitted a loud crack, and fell to the ground with a crash.
He chopped it up into smaller bits, and dragged two back to the camp.
"MARIA!" He yelled. "I GOT A TREE!" "OK!" She yelled back, and stepped out the door. "How far?"
Tom dropped off the two large slivers and walked with Maria to the tree. They both grabbed two logs, leaving three remaining. It took ten minutes to carry all of the logs back, and when they did, they were dripping with sweat.
"Was it really worth it?" Tom said with heaving breaths. Maria spit salty sweat out of her parched mouth. "Do you want to keep sleeping on the ground and sitting on bloody dirt?"
"I guess not."
They got a bottle of water, and tried to divide it evenly between the both of them. Now, they only had two bottles of water, four bags of peanuts, and whatever fruit was on the plants.
"Can you work on the beds while I go search for food? We're running low." "Yes, please." Maria replied.
Tom walked out of the fort after a few minutes, making sure that his axe and gun were nestled safely in his belt.
"Where the hell am I going to find food?" Tom thought to himself. "There's probably nothing left at the plane, and I probably won't find any fruits and vegetables. Maria was incredibly fortunate to find those plants so close together, or find them at all for that matter, and be able to build a fort out of noth-" Something interrupted his thought process. Tom looked around, not sure what it was. "There, a faint rustling in the bushes."
He looked to his right at a bush swaying. He held up his finger. There was no breeze.
Tom grabbed his gun and pointed it at the bush. Another rustled, and then another.
"Come out with your hands in the air!" His voice trembled, and the last word broke as it came out. A loud laugh that sounded like the laugh that a hyena would make came from the bush he was pointing at. Then a second one started from the bush behind him, and another, and another, until the forest was filled with hyena like laughs. Then dozens of the things swarmed around him, jumping off trees and crawling out of bushes.
"DARN IT! MARIA!" He screamed.
No one returned his cry for help. Then one pounced, and Tom fired off a shot. It rang out through the forest, and the thing fell to the ground, dead. Three more leaped, and Tom spun, firing at their stomachs and leaving them dead. He shot five more, only three shots killing, and leaving the other two injured and useless. Then the gun clicked. It was out of ammo. "Darn it darn it darn it..." He whispered, pressing the eject button and letting the empty clip fall to the ground.
He grabbed a loaded one from his pocket and shoved it into the gun. But not fast enough.
Four pounced onto his stomach. An "oof" escaped his lips and he fell on his back, the gun sliding from his hand. One lashed at his cheek, and a searing pain roared throughout his head. Blood gushed out, and Tom screamed in agony.
He reached out for the gun, his fingertips just brushing the handle. He curled his fingers and pulled, getting it in both hands just in time to fire blindly twice before one kicked it from his hand. Then one punched his eye, and black spots clouded his eyes. He felt dizzy.
"I'm going to die. I'm just going to have to accept that." He closed his eyes. "Good-bye Deborah. I love you."