The Island

The Crate

When Natty cautiously opens the door, cold air pricks at my face menacingly. A chill runs through my body. Back home, it must be balmy and bright, but this snow seems especially intense. It's almost like it wants to swallow us up and freeze us to death. 

We all file out, our frail bodies cocooned in sleek coats and scarves. Instantly, a blizzard whips violently through the frigid air, nearly pushing me off my feet. Natty mentions something over her petite shoulder, but I can barely hear her above the roaring windstorm.

As we walk with difficulty along what looks like a path, the curtain of white snow trickling down the sky gets broader and thicker, until I can barely see three feet ahead of me.

The path curves down a hill until it strikes a patch of rocks. Even though they're glazed with ice, the others achieve their way around them. When my turn comes to step around the rocks, I'm not quite confident I can make it.

Someone gently places their hand on my shoulder. I'm too focused to look back and recognize who it is, but I let them assist me down the eroded rocks until the ragged patch is gone.

"Thanks," I say to the figure covered head to toe in clothing.

"The first few days can be hard," a voice says, and I suddenly realize it's Jack. For a second, I forget about my fridge I have against him. "This is the worst it usually gets."

I grunt remembering the scavenging from last night. Turns out a lot of things are going badly for me around here.

I walk ahead, making my pace slightly quicker than before to get ahead of Jack, but no matter how fast I walk he treads closely behind.

Finally we get to a minuscule building that looks like a run-down shed. It's tilted ever so slightly to the side and icicles dip down from the rim. A layer of snow coats the whole roof and half a wall. Somehow Kadek manages to prop open the door ajar and slip inside.

When I slip through the small crack, all the wind blowing in my ears and the cold seeping into my skin fades away, and I'm welcomed by a warm wave of heat that reminds me of home. When Amare, the last one of us, makes it through the door, we force it shut.

I unwrap the scarf from my face protecting me from outside. I look around the shed to get a good look at it. Now that I'm inside, it looks bigger than I thought and not as old. The sweet smell of cedar rushes through me and the dim light of a window lights the room. The room's mostly empty except for a few shelves and a large wooden crate in the middle of the room. The others gather around it inspecting it carefully.

"They used rope to keep it shut," Hayley mutters mostly to herself, but everyone listens to it as if it were just a normal remark.

Natty tugs at the rope, but it won't budge. The others have a go at it. Some even try to break the crate, but the wooden boards are too thick. I stand in the corner my arms crossed, waiting for someone to tell me what's in the crate.

While they keep trying to get it open my eyes jump around the room. They land on a shelf at the far end of the room with a few things on them. One of them an old lamp rusting.

The lamp.

A feeling vibrates through my veins when an idea strikes me. I've never felt it before, but it lures me over to the shelf over to the lamp.

My fingers wrap around the rusty handle, and I pick it up off the shelf. It's heavier than I thought. I look back at the crate.

"Care to tell us why you're holding that old lamp right now?"

I snap back into reality, the vibrating feeling inside diminishing a little. Everyone stares at me.

My mouth falls open to explain, but the humming vibrations comes back. My muscles contract in alarm. It's almost as if the humming vibrations are telling me what to do.