Lost Island

Chapter 8: Together Again

Levi played with the apple in his hands, looking at it boredly. This was all his lunch according to them and so he wasn't planning on wasting any of it. His stomach grumbled loudly with hunger but he still didn't take a bite of it. He had had a good amount of the water in the coconut that was past around, the unflavorful liquid feeling great on his dry throat. Finally, after a few more minutes of staring at the apple, he bit into it.

Paul was moaning weakly in the background as he held onto his leg, making sharp intakes of air through his gritted teeth. During the past few days they've been trapped in this cell, Paul had gotten gradually worse; his leg wasn't healing and, frankly, he didn't look good. Now he was in a corner of the cell, pale and even more sweaty than the rest of them. His breaths were irregular and unsteady. When Harry took a look at his leg wound yesterday, he found that it was infected. You didn't have to be a doctor to tell that. Harry had taken and kept the bandage off since there was no point in keeping it on. It didn't look good for Paul. On the island there wasn't anything to help his leg wound. No one said it out loud, but they all knew he was going to die. And soon.

If it weren't for the small window in the cell they wouldn't have known that it was the third day since Levi, and his four friends were captured. Three days. Three whole days he'd been stuck in that cell with nothing to do but sleep and occasionally make conversation.

However, in addition to that he would also pull out the photo of his daughter, Rylie, and despite the damages done to it, he had come to accept it as it was. It was once again treasure in his eyes and he would be forever grateful that he didn't toss it into the water like he had come so close to doing. That was the only thing that kept him going. He had vowed to make it back alive for Rylie and he was going to do it...somehow. Somehow he'd make it off this island and back home for her. He knew that's what she would have wanted.

He tossed the core of the apple aside on the dirty ground when he was finished with it, only to eventually pick it up and give to them as they didn't want the cell to be too cluttered.

"Levi," Captain Drake said after they collected the apple cores and left, "you never did tell me why you got into a fight."

Levi crossed his arms as he caught a glimpse of Paul who was now slumped over against the wall asleep and snoring slightly. And shrugged. "I just fought with Paul because we wanted to have a match, for fun I guess. I normally wouldn't have, but I got drunk and so did he. In the end, yes, he definitely won." Levi chuckled lightly. "Should have surrendered after the first few punches."

Captain Drake only nodded.

"Are my bruises finally gone? I'd imagine so, right? Or is there still a hint of brown and purple? There aren't exactly any mirrors around."

"You're bruises are gone," he answered simply, not caring to meet his eyes, instead closing his. "You know, I used to get into fights all the time when I was your age. I'd start matches in alleys just to release my anger of my wife's passing." The captain sighed heavily.

"Your wife?" Levi couldn't help but ask. "You had a wife?"

"Yeah. Her name was Peyton," Captain Drake said quietly, frowning at the ground. "She got cancer. Thyroid cancer and the doctors said she would most likely survive, that that was the cancer to get, but they couldn't remove it all. She grew weaker and weaker for months until she died four months after the diagnosis." The captain shook his head sadly, clearing the subject painful to talk about.

"Peyton? Is she who you named the ship after?" Captain Drake nodded slightly and rolled a hand down his face, sighing. "I see," Levi said softly after a moment, before he closed his eyes to sleep the day away since there was nothing really to do anyway. Captain Drake and really everyone else in the cell was doing likewise.