three days // j. conrad

seven.

Within five minutes, Wren had been introduced to everyone. Camera girl was Mason Weaver; the soldier's name was Slivko; the man wearing blue was Nieves; the scientist with glasses was Houston Brooks; the second girl was San Lin.
Wren had removed her once-white top to wrap tightly around her wound, leaving her in a grey tank top.
When the time came to leave, Wren attempted to stand, only to nearly cry out in pain and lean heavily on the tree.
"It's obvious you can't walk," Conrad told her, "so don't try. We're not leaving you behind, either."
His solution was to carry her on his back. She wad a bit hesitant to agree, but he insisted. He crouched low enough on the ground in front of her for her to climb onto his back and wrap her knees around his waist, arms around his neck.
She was light enough not to hinder his movement due to the lifestyle on this island she'd had to live these past six years.

"It's called the Hollow Earth theory," Brooks explained as they trekked through the forest. "Randa hired me because I wrote a paper substantiating what most people think is a crackpot idea. That there are these massive underground spaces isolated from the surface world."
"Passageways," San added. "Randa believed this island may be one of those."
"An emergence point for whatever lives below. Ancient species like what we just saw. I thought he was out of his mind."
"He wasn't," Wren said. "But Kong keeps them in the ground. He protects."
"He attacked us," Slivko reminded.
"Well how would you like it if someone showed up at your doorstep and started dropping bombs?" She retorted.
Slivko stayed silent, picking up his radio again. "This is Slivko, do you read? Anybody out there, we're headed north to the exfil location. Do you copy? Anybody?"
"We're out of range, Slivko," Conrad said. "Save it for when we get closer to the group."
The seven were passing a marsh when something once-stationary rose out of the water. A sker buffalo.
Slivko raised his gun as it approached.
"Nobody move," Conrad advised. "Easy."
Slivko positioned his finger on the trigger as it got closer.
"Slivko," Wren said softly.
"What?"
"Put the gun down. It doesn't want to hurt you."
Conrad set Wren down carefully, making sure she was well balanced, before he moved closer to Slivko.
"Calm down, soldier," he said, gently putting a hand on the end of Slivko's gun and pushed it down, the soldier breathing heavily.
Mason lifted her camera to take a picture, and the sker buffalo descended back into the water.
James lifted Wren back up onto his back again and the group continued on their way.

They soon reached incredibly familiar territory to Wren.
"Stay tight," James told them as they came upon the ruins in which Wren had first encountered the Iwis.
Carefully, they entered, forming a tight circle with Wren sandwiched in the middle. All of a sudden, Weaver gasped and people began emerging from where they had blended into the walls.
"Behind you!"
"Look out!"
"Stay calm, stay calm!"
"Stay back!"
The Iwis had their spears raised as they closed in on the group.
Wren stuck her head up and shouted, "hey!" A couple of the Iwis lowered their spears upon seeing a familiar face, and then Marlow's voice floated in.
"Whoa whoa whoa, no need for that, come on now!" He cried. "Everybody keep your wigs in now. I didn't believe it when they said you were coming. Me and Gunpei dreamed of this moment, and now here it is. 28 years and eight failed attempts to get back to the world, and the world comes to me."
"Did you crash here? Like Wren?" Weaver asked.
"Sorry, miss. Lieutenant Hank Marlow of the 45th. Got the old flight suit on. Miss Riley." He tipped his hat before addressing the whole group again: "you are more beautiful than a hot dog and a beer at Wrigley Field. But you're real. I told you," he turned to the Iwis, "didn't I tell ya? I said it's fine."
"There's something out there, man," Slivko told him.
"Oh there's a lot out there. Now come on, we gotta get home. You don't wanna be out here at night."