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fitz202 · 12 days

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The River Queen Part 1

The Airboat cruised across the placid black water, carelessly swerving between the twists and turns of the river. The world around me began to mesh into a blur of tangled saw grass and towering cypress trees. Each sharp erratic turn felt like a moment from disaster, my stomach seemingly knotting itself together, encouraging a vile stream of bile to escape me. Disregarding my unwarranted fears, the Airboat skillfully drifted between the unmarked river bends, carrying us further into this alien world.

"You boys ever been to the Everglades?" A thick southern voice did its best to cut through the roaring whooping of the Airboat's propeller blades cutting through the dense swampy air around us. Behind my surprisingly cushioned black leather seat was a short middle-aged man who sat perfectly above us. His seat was positioned just behind the boat's rusted prop cage; the only indication of his position was the long, rusted silver pole that steered us.

"Say that again, Jack?" to my left, Elliot's voice also attempted to cut through the constant droning whir of the propeller blades. But, unfortunately, Elliot didn't carry the same amount of southern charm or power capable of reaching past the Airboat's constant roar.

My gaze shifted to Elliot, the blonde doing his best to keep his back straight as the boat rocked and churned. He was my age, going to turn twenty-one this coming year, precisely one month before I did. He was a six foot one, maybe even a generous six-two; it didn't help that he never slouched his back, always a pillar of the male figure. The man had a well-built rectangular frame, nothing too crazy, just the benefits of playing baseball most of his life.

I always thought he should have shifted his attention to running my argument, being supported by what I thought were some of the soundest and most compelling benefits paired with athletic activity. But instead, the brief time between or after his four-hour practices consisted of video games, pizza, and me relentlessly begging the guy to move his attention to the Track team. Between slices, I would list the benefits it would provide, including but not limited to less than four-hour practices, meetings including girls, physical endurance, and, oh yeah, Girls!

It bewildered me that a young man who had chosen to avoid the polluted mesh of garbage and sugar-filled traps that had taken so much of America's youth had such a bad streak with women. Maybe it was his sense of clothing, but then again, anyone in shape could pull off at least, in my mind, the classic workout garb.

Looking at him now, Elliot had tucked his thick blonde hair beneath the restricting confines of a simple crimson-red baseball cap with ivory-white eyelets and a coal-black interior. The hat was paired with a jet-black Adidas sports shirt. The thin black fabric didn't strain against his chest but provided an excellent outline of his well-trimmed form. The shirt was neatly tucked into the well-rimmed confines of crimson red Nike shorts, perhaps a shade darker than his cap. I cringed at the ivory-white brands stapled onto his chest and legs.

The guy looked like a walking-talking ad for baseball. Still, besides my petty envy, I couldn't deny that my friend made the outfit work, becoming a trim crimson-black staple of masculinity hidden within the Spanish moss and cypress of the swamp.

In a flash, mear moments after Elliot's question, the airboats screaming blades began to fade, and the flying scrap metal we had found ourselves in slowly began to ease closer to a standstill. As the boat's roar gradually halted, reducing its invasive presence out of the swamp, Jack motioned for us to remove our headphones.

"Sorry, boys, we don't usually drift this late at night," Jack was what I imagined to be the very embodiment of the rumored Southern charm. Jack looked to be in his forties but talked with the attitude of a guy in his eighties. His educated and well-formed words carried the cheerful and somewhat alien addition of unknown phrases and slang that I didn't dare to repeat. When some unknown group of medium-sized birds had flown from a patch of sawgrass earlier, Jack had pulled the boat to an immediate stop. Then, frantically motioning towards the retreating birds, Jack began to ramble about grass guzzlers and frog-stealing buzzards.

"Well, we don't usually go air boating, so we're a little too dumb to notice a good night from a shit one," The sound of my voice uncensored by the confines of the sound-dampening headphones gave some form of bliss relief to my growing anxiety. But, unfortunately, the grim reality beyond the small motorized steel fan was a shrouded and unrecognizable environment. The only prominent light source was the blinding LED flood light perched an inch above Jack's chair. However, even this tiny spark of clearance was nothing against the towering cypress and unending saw grass around us.

Maybe it was that after an hour of drifting, the only animals we saw were the veiled outlines of retreating birds. We were in the heart of the Everglades, drifting amidst the night common sense, and Jack told us that the more appealing and crowd-driven animals were more active among the moonlight. And sure, we heard them every time we stopped; a mixture of clicks, chirps, and low growls emanated from the hidden world around us. But it seemed like every time we stopped and Jack positioned the light for a look, our reward was nothing, not a trace of their existence or a hint of their presence.

The absence of animals was my main disappointment and the most prominent factor contributing to my growing fear of the swampy landscape around us. Seeing the animals would have eased my nerves but hearing them snorting and stirring around us from seemingly all corners was beginning to make me doubt the security of the boat. Unjustified fears of pumas or gators breaching the darkness around us filled my consciousness, their unseen bright yellow eyes burning into my soul. The beast's teeth and claws rip into my flesh, dragging my mutilated body into the water, my screams echoing throughout the night.

"Haha, HA! That certainly is accurate; most of you Yankees don't dare dream of a ride through the Muck City," Jack's laughter broke my conscious away from the unjust fears plaguing the tips of my mind. It was impossible not to love the man. His ever-consistent warm white, tooth smile, and odd silver-witted tongue instantly washed the aimless worries from me.

Jack was tan, unlike the nice coat of Florida bronze; no, this forty-something-year-old man had the recovering burnt tan look. He was a short man, roughly five foot eight, and to be frank, Elliot or I could take him. He had warm, welcoming navy blue eyes and a stern yet soft nose that, and his melting southern smile, gave his objectively sharp face a respectful well kept but welcoming look. A short, well-defined chin was hidden poorly behind the long, silver stubble beard.

I initially expected our guide to be a young, spry man with a thick, tangled mess of hair that risked being eaten by the Airboat's propeller. Instead, Jack was an appropriate correction to my northern expectations. A welcoming funny, charismatic man filled with all sorts of unknown jargon, all topped off with a thin cut mesh of ivory white hair. He wore a pair of ridiculously short khaki shorts and a light brown fishing vest, and as if to piss someone off, Jack tried to point out his abnormity. Revealing his footwear, Jack declared himself a man of many passions, socks, and free toes being one of them. Before I could register what he was referring to, Jack displayed his left foot bare, his toes wiggling in the humid Florida air. And before I could protest, his right soon joined the left, a concealed and misplaced sock obstructing his feet from the crisp air.

Elliot rightfully didn't much care. I mean, who would but as soon as Jack had declared this rightfully strange choice, I immediately got on board. Both figuratively, and I was in the Airboat ten seconds later, his left barefoot, not even a foot away from the back of my head. Sure, Elliot had looked at me like I would a furry, his hazel eyes looking down upon me with disappointment and just plain-ass confusion, but I returned a look that could be determined as "fuck it." Truthfully Jack had the character I had wanted but, frankly, had never expected.

What we were doing was insane, an airboat tour in the freaking Everglades. It was, on paper, one of the strangest excursions one could take in Florida besides perhaps going to Florida. Jack instantly sold the trip and calmed all the unjust fears I roused, leading to this financially and morally questionable decision.

"Come on now, Jack, don't tell me you are disappointed. Look at it this way two strapping young Yanke boys from the city taken deep into the heart of the Everglades," I did my best to lower my voice and attempted in some way to convey the strong, brave young man I was pretending to be. Jack's thin sunburnt lips slowly leaned into a grin revealing his goldenrod teeth shining in the darkness. I nodded to Elliot moving my eyebrows to emphasize my unspoken request, silently praying the dolt would pick up where I left off.

"Yeah, what other idiots are going to be doing this," Not what I exactly wanted, but Jack's short spurts of exaggerated crackling laughter seemed to confirm he had won.

"Hehe, you boys are the sweetest little fools I've had on this job," Jack laughed, his right arm beating his chest, forcing his wheezing body to breathe through the cringefest that was our humor. Elliot's cheeks quickly burned a bright red, clearly embarrassed by Jack's infectious laughter. Sadly Jack's inhuman chuckling claimed me, and before I could catch myself, the swamps ambiance was dulled by the exaggerated fits of laughter between myself and this five-foot legend.

For a solid minute, we laughed, the boat quickly drifting through the three feet of water beneath us. My nerves had magically vanished, vanquished by the odd chemistry shared between our strange little boat. I was wiping a tear from my eye when the stirring world around us seemed to introduce itself, a small bird-like chirp.

"What was th-" Whatever Elliot was going to ask was silenced by one quick and decisive shoosh from Jack, his blistered-up finger pushed against his dry lips. The man slowly shook his eyes, narrowing his gaze to the thick roots of the cypress beside us. Jack slowly began to turn the boat, his hand gently moving the rudder, his eyes never leaving the towering trees beside us.

The Cypress trees, in a way, seemed almost alien, a forest of towering pines growing beneath the water. Natural cages formed by the thin grey roots stuck prominently out of the water leading to a thick ash-grey trunk that reached into the mossy canopy above. Seeing the stems of the trees sticking arrogantly above the water didn't seem right. Jack flashing the bright flood light didn't give them any sense of ease or familiarity either. Instead, Jack's light surveyed the water, casting large, intimidating shadows across the water beyond the cypress cages and sage moss. A series of unnatural shapes and nightmares were born from the artificial light moving along the swamps facet.

His light pierced through the water, the inky black cover turning a murky but more transparent shade of sable. Slowly the world below was revealed to us, the floodlight displaying the intricate but tangled mesh of tubes stemming from beneath a series of endless basil lilies. The short stems descended to the muddy floor below, reaching between the edges and cracks of the massive pebble-like rocks littered amongst the murky shallows.

"What are we looking for ?" Elliot's voice was barely above a whisper, but Jack nonetheless cast him a sharp stern look. There was nothing aggressive or demanding, just a clear signal that we needed to be quiet. However, another small chirp echoed through the area as if in reply. Jack's gaze shifted, his light trailing quickly behind him, focussing our attention on a lone Cypress sticking the farthest from the shallow forest to our left, its roots barely visible, most of its intrinsic stems swallowed by the channel.

"We're looking for a pod of hatchlings," as if on cue, a cacophony of chirps and gentle splashes erupted from the tree. Three pairs of tinny golden orbs popped into existence, moving blissfully across the water's surface, retreating further into the forest cover.

"Oh my god," I felt the words escape me without thinking. They were baby alligators. My mind questioned my presumptions, but what other creature could it be not? My assumption was undoubtedly correct. The light outlined the small reptilians silhouette hidden beneath the water. The three rushed their petite bodies, desperately retreating more profoundly into the cypress trees.

"That boy is what we call a group of hatchlings," Jack leaned his head out of the boat, his frame scanning what lay behind the ship. Elliot had already taken his phone out, zooming in on the baby crocodilians. Jack's words took a minute to register within me; however, my head gears slowly turned into realization, my form creeping towards the boat's center, and my body pressed hard against my seat.

"yeah, these three are a long way from the main congregation, but I suppose Margret didn't want them near the mainstream," I glanced at Elliot, his form, however, over the edge of the boat, his frame dipping towards the border of the swamps territory. I wanted to say anything to warn him of the nature I could only rationalize through my unjust fears. Surprising. However, I wasn't given a chance. In a flash, Jack moved to intercept the blonde, a single arm dragging Elliot's body back into the confines of the Airboat, slamming his back against the crumbled black and crusty grey leather seat.

Elliot moved to protest, his face slightly red from both shock and anger. Still, in a quick movement, Jack was between us, his body moving gracefully among the boat, steeping intricately between us until his frame was mere inches from the water's edge. The swamp man popped a small flashlight from his front pocket, gracefully flipping it into the left side of his mouth, his free hands never leaving the boat's stability.

"Look, arth herth," his flashlight gleamed directly beside the boat, its sheen piercing through the shallow muck that was the swamp. His eyes gestured for us to come forward, but his hands separated us from the vulnerable expanse of water beyond the boat. Slowly Elliot and I approached Jack, our eyes following the light he provided.

What I saw slowly crept into actual unfiltered realization. Hidden among the veil of the depths of the swamp below its surface was the broad intimidating snout of an Aligator. An enormous alligator lurks just beneath the bog. Its very head alone scaled surprisingly well with the boat itself. The dark black scales shining off of Jack's tiny flashlight illuminated its form obviously within the night.

"It's a fucking Dinosaur," the words left my head without my mind truly addressing what was happening. It was huge looking at it from above; the overgrown reptile's long rounded snout and orange beady eyes were only a fraction of the titanic form lurking beneath the boat. God, how it left so much to the imagination. The cruel visage of a titan, a monster lurking beneath the small little airship, filled my mind.

"That boys is mother Bell," Jack slowly turned the boat to the left, revealing the rest of the massive reptile. I felt my breath stop, and the urge to fight or flee began to stir. She could easily tip the boat and be in her world at the monster's mercy. Delusions of my body ripped to sunders and strewn across the swamp filled my head. I felt my cheeks burn a bright red and winced at every bead of sweat dripping down my rosy face.

"Dude, Holly shit, she's huge," Elliot's shrill voice cut through my delusions, his form edging over the railing of the boat and staring into the mass that was the alligator beneath us. Jack began to laugh, his condition still preventing Elliots from falling into the swamp.

"Isn't she beautiful, boys, a creature lost to time ruler of these waters," Jack moved himself to sit beside Elliot, his body cramping the shared space between us. Then, in one swift motion, he lifted the cushion from Elliot's seat and revealed a hidden cooler. The stark white plastic was covered in light pink and brown stains, and in one swift motion, Jack popped out an entirely plucked chicken. Translucent yellow water dripped onto the boat's haul before he chucked the dead animal a few feet away from the ship.

"Boys, sit down and watch the show," With that said, Jack almost simultaneously moved back to his seat while the Aligator or Bell dropped beneath the surface of the flood light. Her body was lost to the swamp. Elliot and I took Jack's advice and strapped ourselves into our seats. Elliot took a moment to wipe whatever remnant of the chicken had infected his side of the boat.

For a moment, silence infected the bog around us. The constant buzz and chirping of the insects and frogs seemed to become nothing more than a distant memory. The creepy energy they had once presented was quickly missed because this silence was fucking killing me. God, I knew there were alligators, but this thing was huge. Any clue or sign of its whereabouts would be appreciated, but now the swamp decides to shut up because a dinosaur chose to show its fat stubby head.

"Does she usually take this long," Elliot broke the silence, his words cutting through my meager defenses. I turned to him in a flash, my face plastered with malicious intentions.

"Elliot, for the love of god, shut the fuck-" the creature burst from the water. Then, like a giant belching, a low bellow echoed throughout the bog as the giant reptile sprinted across the water's surface toward the chicken. A mixture of blood scales and water seemed to blur together, the animal ripping through the dead bird, its contents staining the swamp around us. Bits of flesh and skin are now floating around us, the smell of the carcass filling the air. It was inevitable that someone would get sick. I just thought it was going to be me.

Elliot appeared at the side of the boat in a flash, his head bobbing over the edge mere inches from the water. A bucket of chum leaked into the swamp, and a bittersweet smell of vomit followed. For a moment, I thought the sight and smell of the vomit would provoke my own body to exert the vile substance from within me. But instead, a loud series of infectious laughter filled the space behind us as Jack's body began to cough up rather unhealthy spurts of joy. His body seemed to spasm with pleasure, his head rolling in harmony with his laughter, tears flowing unaltered down his tanned face.

Eliot and I shared a look before it could register within me; however, Elliot's face still held pasty chunks of road-stop junk food. Nevertheless, his dumbass look of confusion was comedy gold, and I soon found myself laughing along with a jack. My sharp cackle silenced Jack for a moment before he pointed at me and laughed.

"God, Sean, why do you sound like a dying bird," Elliot wiped his face, and Suddenly, we found ourselves laughing with the crazy fucker, his joy infecting us a few feet away from the ravenous monster. The moment lasted for probably a solid two minutes more than it should have, but some form of my instinct believed that denial in this pathetic form was better than the fear of the still ravenous beast feeding nearby.

"Ok, boys, that was real swell, but I think we should meet up at the boat and head home," Jack wiped tears from his eyes as he spoke, his body finally recovering from the session we all experienced.

"Oh, come on, we just started," It felt like I was punching the words out of my body, hints of hysterics across my face as I desperately attempted to establish my stature. Even Elliot seemed to have his head screwed back on straight, his once-flushed face reverting to his pale baseball tan. Slowly I eased myself back into my chair before whatever Southern explanation I was about to receive.

"We're on borrowed time, Boys last thing we want is to be late for our Midnight Snack," Elliot and I looked at each other, confusion plastered across our faces. Jack rushed us initially onto the boat quickly. His greeting was quick, and his safety rules regarding the ship were even faster. The man stated roughly put on your headphones and stay in your seat. If you fuck up, you die. He then laughed, sat in his chair, waited two seconds for us to strap in, and informed us that halfway through the tour was a prepared meal swamp style.

"Marry hates it when I'm late for dinner, plus she got two other girls with her tonight, so think of it as a triple date, gentlemen. I got top hats ready for us in the back," an exaggerated wink followed his rather blunt rebuttal, the man taking one last look at the gator, which had by now ceased its assault on the dead bird. Its massive form had floated just above the surface, the bulky mass of scales and muscle, and of course, every light shown near the creature illuminated a pair of glowing orange eyes that still sent a chill down my spine.

"I feel like this is the first cool thing we've seen all night. But, come on, Jack, let's not leave just yet," Jack didn't respond, nor did he express any interest in my proposal. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the alligator, never straying from its stationary form.

That's when I heard the small snap or slap that sent a pathetic echo through the water. It was a weird noise to describe the best thing my mind could come up with for reference was a child no older than five slapping their hands against the chlorine-filled pool. Before I could comment on how sad the noise was, another relatively low clap popped into our peripheral, a few feet to our left, a good two feet from the alligator. My head snapped to the source, my eyes searching the water Jack's floodlight rotated from left to right, slowly surveying the swamp's surface. We looked like cops searching for an escaped convict. All we needed was some guns and dogs; if I was realistic, one of the two had a seventy percent chance of being present on the boat.

Suddenly Jack's floodlights focused on a tiny black silhouette moving slowly beneath the surface of the water. I thought it was big fish for a moment, but as the light loomed longer on the tiny creature moving among the lilies and weeds, I felt a grim sense of familiarity.

"You know what, Sean, maybe your right. Maybe we should stay a little longer," Jack leaned down to my ear level. A wave of days-old meals and chewed-up tobacco filled my nose, his hot breath steaming down my neck.

"Maybe we should get closer," I wanted to yell, and I tried to punch the charming man even more. However, his implications sent panic throughout my body, and before I could respond, the once-hidden form revealed what I had initially suspected.

"Awe, it is one of the babies," Elliot's words cut through my panic and immediately ruined whatever suspense jack was building on. Jack recoiled from his looming position in defeat, and I was brought back into reality, relishing in my unearned victory. Jack moved us closer to the baby, its form now fully revealed to us, the tiny infant swimming gracefully through the bog with a ripped-off chunk of the chicken. Finally, Jack cruised us just three feet from the small thing allowing Elliot and me a better view of the baby reptile.

"you know what, man, I'm glad we came out tonight," I looked at Elliot. We had both moved slightly toward the edge of the boat, our minds eager to be appeased by the endearing nature of the baby killer beneath us. But, God, this close, the eyes on the baby were enormous, and when the floodlight didn't illuminate them, they had an ashen green look.

"You know Sean, maybe we sho- Holly Shit!" Bell Burst from the water in front of us. Her massive jaws opened, presenting rows and rows of sharp white teeth, her throat releasing a deep course hiss. I felt my body slam into my seat, Bell's head just over the edge of the boat, the rest of her body hidden beneath the water. The massive tail that surfaced a few feet behind her was the only reminder of its existence. Again, my mouth opened to scream, and my mind and body followed suit this time.

"Shut your pie holes, pansies," in a swift motion. Jack moved to tap the gator on her snout. Bell, in turn, hissed in anger, her jaws snapping close with a loud snap like an axe being dug into the side of a tree, only to open again and snarl in our direction.

"Haha, easy girl, easy," Jack moved the boat to the left, exposing Elliot's side alone to the reptile. In an instant, his body was pressing into the confines of my space; his sweaty ass back pushed into my face.

"Alright, boys, say goodbye to Bell," Bell bellowed one last time, her jaws snapping into the air, her thick neck slashing back and forth. Jack laughed as the Airboat drifted away from the raging gator, the propeller at just the right pace not to blow out our eardrums but keep us far away from the murderous mother.

Speedily, Elliot returned to his space and recovered from our embarrassing moment. His face turned from a bright red to a light pink, his breath slowing to a much more normal pace. Elliot's rather unique displays of fear alerted me to my reaction, quickly checking my pants and face for unwanted liquids. I seemed fine to my unhinged and panicked mind, so I acted without console or courtesy to the other group members without thinking or processing what I was about to say.

"Jack, what the fuck is wrong with you !" I spun around in my seat, my nails digging into the leather out of fear and anger. The man in question just smiled back at me, the quite crazed smile you'd get uncomfortable with in trapped with a stranger in the wilderness without proper communication. Then, a cold realization hit me briefly, and the bittersweet fondness of pure, unaltered fear entered my body.

"Relax, kid Bell wouldn't hurt a fly; I mean, that's a lie, but I wouldn't let her touch you," Jack began to put his headset back on, nodding for Elliot and me to follow suit pressing a series of buttons near his chair. Following suit, the roar of the propeller began to grow, and the boat began to lurch further and faster toward the main river.

I was ashamed that Elliot and I put on our headsets and faced the approaching river without question. It was like the incident hadn't even happened, like a five-hundred-ton monster hadn't even come close to ripping our fucking heads off. But, no, we would be good little boys and listen to Daddy Jack as he took us deeper into this hell hole. Once the crude headset was back on my head and the cold wave of static had passed, Jack's sing-song of southern heaven filled my ears.

"We're going to have a nice romantic snack near the end of the river," The boat broke through the Cypress forest, breaking into the river and soaring past the miles of tall grass surrounding us.

"Why the hell are we eating in the Everglades ?" Jack maneuvered the boat expertly through the tall grass, seeming to follow a well-laid path of swamp water.

"Also, how the hell do you know where we're going," Jack took a hard right turn that seemed to come out of nowhere, my body forced to the side, my stomach threatening to vomit up what little remained into the water.

"Boy, the world is one river. All you need to give her is a little time, and she'll take you wherever you need to go," Jack took a softer turn, and the boat soared into a relatively open water area with very little vegetation impeding the ship ahead.

"We must respect the river boys, for she is both generous but cruel," His tone was different from the southern charm I had come to both hate and love. A more harsh and unfiltered reality than the charming in-your-face hustle as if he had remembered some foul inconvenience. I looked to see if Elliot shared the same feeling, but the man was hanging on by a thread, one hand clutching his stomach and the other cupped around his mouth. The man was one turn away from throwing up again.

"Can I ask why you refer to the river as she," Jack shifted the boat further to the left side of the river? Elliot, in response, curled up further into a ball, his head shaking slowly in what I can only sympathize with as the most uncomfortable experience imaginable.

"The river is neither he nor she, but here in this swamp, I like to look to the past, see her story, and understand her purpose." The tall grass around us seemed to be becoming less and less dense. The once towering reeds seemed to shrink as we ventured further into the open water.

"What kind of history?" I scanned the water around us, searching for any sign of life, anything to catch my interest outside the rather dull conversation between me and jack. Sadly the boat had to be moving at roughly fifty to seventy miles per hour, so the world around us was a sad mixture of passing grass and black water. For a moment, I thought Jack hadn't heard me or didn't care; the silence between myself and strangers always ruined whatever false self-confidence I had developed.

"It's not my history, and I doubt it's your's pale face, but there is a legend passed from the remnants of the Okeechobee tribe," his words carried no comedy or charm, just a dull unenthused response as if he were explaining how watch paint dry.

"The what tribe ?" Elliot took a brief moment from dying internally to glance back toward Jack in subtle confusion before he returned to his stomach tearing itself apart.

"The Okeechobee boy, are you deaf? They were the river people, masters of this land and water," Jack spoke with a weird sense of pride as if the people were of some great importance like we should have known about them beforehand.

"What happened to them," I was expecting some sad half-hazard explanation about reservations and property between the land and natives.

"They died," his words were spoken and final, with no smugness, no sass, just straight to the point, accurate depressing information. For a moment, I let the silence between us fester, allowing the buzz of the propeller and the churning friction between the boat and the water to fill the awkward vibe.

"is that it-," Of course, I opened my mouth to challenge the silence, but Jack was already a step ahead, leading the conversation with this rather strange bravado and mystique. Leaning forward into his words, his foul breath fighting against the rage of the blistering swamp wind.

"they're not all dead. Let me correct myself. Just the old ones are the ones that lived among these same waters," His form cut between Elliot and me, his free hand gesturing to the wilds surrounding us.

"Years ago, lost within this very swamp, a colony came to live amongst them," the droning purr of the propeller seemed to die out as he spoke, a newfound power radiating off his confidence enthralling Elliot and me in his story.

"They had very little to trade. The cold season had ravaged their people and had destroyed what little goods they had," His tone kept shifting now; it seemed like a solemn beginning as if each new part of the story needed a new pitch.

"for some time, they lived in harmony, two people sharing the water and land," The pitch in his tone changed again. It was honestly the most annoying part of this seemingly dull story.

"Then some idiot had to get the native's daughter pregnant and spawn a half-blood child," I held back a disgusted smile at the rather intense mention of half-blood like the kid was a mixture between a demon and man. Looking at Elliot, I could see a slight smile hidden behind his obvious mask of pain.

"Before we continue, how bleak does this get," my tone was rather dull uncaring, and, most of all, bored. Jack instantly lost his bravado, looked me in the eyes, and sighed in disappointment until he looked at me, looking from him to Elliot, and nodded in sad understanding.

"Basically, the mother of the demon child died soon after birth, and a few years later, her father died from a strange uncurable illness," I stared at Jack, my mind slightly surprised by the rather bleak turn the story had led down.

"So what, the swamps cursed, or the child is cursed kinda deal ?" Elliot moaned out the words, each sounding like a quick jab in the gut. The boat didn't give him many options. The water is now bashing against the haul, making every attempted word come out as an annoying and sad attempt to communicate.

"No, the child was a child, but like you, both the tribe and the people saw her as a monster, an omen of malnourishment and sins to come," The boat lurched to the left. The tall grass seemed to retreat behind us completely. A vast expanse of open water now laid bare in front of us; the distant sparkles of a city rested beyond a bright yellow and gold display, revealing the only evidence of land.

"The child was cast out, abandoned, lost to this very swamp, forgotten by both people, left to rot in this shit hole," The boat turned again and sped alongside the tall grass I assumed to be behind us. Now the swamp was to the left and the lake to the right. It was odd but pleasing that our Airboat acted as a hot knife slicing between the marsh and the lake.

"A Witch found the girl," jacks words silenced whatever pleasant thoughts I had regarding the swamp night's scenery. His words carried little charm or spectacle. The words didn't sound like Jack, like some more civilized tour guide replaced him, detailing a very practiced and enforced rule.

"The Natives didn't speak its name, and the colony wasn't aware of the Witch's presence," Jack continued with his tale, his tone becoming more severe after the passing of every word. I looked over at Elliot to see if he was as invested as I was in Jack's tale, and the pale expression plastered across his face was more than enough proof to confirm my sad theory.

"She took that little girl, corned her hopeless, desperate soul, offering a fool's deal to a starving child," Jack almost yelled the words into the mike, his southern accent breaking through the layer of seriousness he had made.

"She promised her salvation, the tiniest hope that she could survive this terrible fate, move past the people that had forsaken her, and gift her the strength to live amongst this land's most vile creatures," The boat began to cruise closer towards the tall grass just as Jack started to lean down towards us his eyes portraying a rather unkempt ravenous look within them.

"She gave herself to the Witch, but her heart, her broken and tiny heart, was so filled with hatred." Jack took a breath, and even with our faces pressed against the river's humid wind, I could see the sweat beading down his face as if the story had taken some amount of unseen strength to tell.

"Using her hatred, the Witch twisted the girl's desires and morphed her reality into that of a beast summoning a monster with her ravenous intentions to consume those unworthy of the swamp," Jack was yelling again, screaming into the air his free hand triumphantly gesturing to the tall grass beside us.

"This beast was born from the child's hatred and consumed her existence; from that day on, the people of this swamp have known and feared the thing that lurks within its depths," Jack leaned back, exhausted from his own story, his sweaty back colliding with his seat sending a subtle vibration throughout the boat.

"The River Queen! A demon lost to time, a beast that roams these water preying on all who take advantage of her territory, a creature set on harming all of those with malicious intentions that dare to set forth into her unholy bog," Jack leaned down to us; his dramatic display had returned, his voice booming through the headset and into the air, around us unhindered by the once mighty propeller.

"The Queen devoured the people and forced the survivors out of her home," Jack then sped up the boat, lurching back to life, speeding towards a large patch of trees between the swamp and lake.

"And what remained of the little girl, this demon child, was lost to the swamp, and legend has it that her spirit still roams the bog, her soul caught in an endless struggle between torment and strife!" Jack screamed the words yelling into the dark void of the watery world surrounding us—as brave as I wanted to seem, the combination between the boat's speed and the enveloping darkness made for a terrifying mixture. I looked at Elliot, but he didn't seem to care. The color had left his face, and his eyes were glued to the floor of the Airboat, his body slowly shaking. He looked two minutes away from shitting himself or throwing up whatever remained from our previous dinner.

"But that's just a swamp story, haha," Jack slowed the boat down and turned towards a small patch of land seemingly appearing out of nowhere—a series or patch of medium-sized dark grey trees protruding between the lake and the swamp. As we approached, the trees revealed themselves to be a small group of ferns and cute little cypress scattered amongst the outskirts of a small muddy patch of land. Jack led the boat towards a clear area to beach our Airboat next to a rather odd-looking beach boat. The real attention grabber was the big ass ferry partly beached and hidden beyond the small layer of trees.

"Dude, what is this," I could almost feel my eyes popping out of my head as I gawked at the beautiful, rusted relic before me. It looked like an old ferry, like the one you'd see in a party movie about some old forgotten jazz musician. Remnants of ivory-white paint were scattered among the boat's dark orangish-brown rust. Over half the windows were broken, and a small makeshift trial existed between the muddy beach and the ship. We were too far for a proper introduction, but the sheer size of the relic alone was enough to sell whatever final bravado Jack had planned for the night.

"That boy's is Mary and me's secret stash, our home away from home if you will, a paradise bey-" the boat roughly slid onto the muddy shore of the island, lurching the boat forward and thankfully interrupting whatever long boastful drawl Jack had prepared.

The propeller's raging twirl began to dim, allowing the bustling world of the swamp to fill our ears again. A series of frogs, birds, and insects filled the air; their chirps, croaks, and rhythmic humming soothed me from what would otherwise be an empty and dark void that added to the beauty and unknown horror of this untamed territory.

"That's odd," Jack's words collided with the swamps ambiance and were soon followed by a small splash to signify his departure from the Airboat. He strode through the shallow water and walked purposely up to the island's surface.

I slowly began to take in more and more of our surroundings picking apart the tiny trail of stamped grass set apart from the longer strands beside them. The ferns and Cypress trees around us provided a shelter or shield from the surrounding waters. The land's interior had a fern or small cypress scattered within, isolated by an army of tall grass and small bushes.

"What seems to be the problem," Elliot seemed to have reclaimed his cool and had already joined Jack on shore, the two staring at the Fairry waiting for us beyond the tall grass.

"Marry's boat is here; her party tracks are here, but the lights on the boat are off," Jack began to stride past Elliot slowly, his gaze trailing the earth beneath him. Elliot looked back at me momentarily in confusion before stepping towards Jack again. I meanwhile began to leave the boat, gathering myself before I allowed my tender body to be served by the army of insects that eagerly awaited my arrival. All this dir-

"Don't take another step!" Jack didn't yell the words or scream at us, but his tone lacked any of the familiar Southern charms we were getting back into. Instead, his voice was dead serious, staring directly at Elliot, who had frozen mid-step between the bundles of grass twigs and mud beneath him.

Jack got low, his body mere inches from the dirty surface beneath him. He moved from our boat to Marrys, his gaze following some unseen trail between them until he snapped his head to the valley of tall grass between us and the beached ferry. The tall grass in question was parted by a worn-out path that seemed to stem from our direction heading directly towards the ferry.

"Boys stay here a while and keep by the boats," Jack moved back towards the Airboat, leaving his crouched position in a rather abrupt change of pace. Jack strode past the two of us and leaped gracefully onto the boat. I watched, stunned, as Jack tip-toed across our seats until he opened the compartment beneath his seat and rummaged through a series of loud and unseen boggles.

"heads up," as if he was a professional football player Jack tossed a radio over his shoulder to me. I watched the black radio swirl in the air before I reached out to snag it desperately, nabbing at the device mid-air. I clutched the device to my chest as Elliot caught his own, looked back at Jack in confusion, and was just in time to see what he had acquired.

Jack quickly put it away, but an old rustic-looking revolver spun between his left hand. I watched him turn the revolver expertly between his fingers until he strapped the frame to the back of his belt just above his cheap shorts. I stared at Jack, a shocked expression plastered across my face; he stared back, his eyes seeming to say "What?" to my confusion.

"you ok, boys," Jack sounded like he was trying to keep up some long-gone confidence that had been extinguished when he pulled out the gun. I stared at our tour guide, the grip on the radio he had tossed me growing tighter and tighter. Then, finally, the world around me began to dim, the buzzing and chirping of the swamp fading into nothingness; my mind and body focussed on whatever Jack was worried about.

"What's with the gun?" Elliot's words broke the silence. Jack tipped his head and glanced around my form to stare at him, a severely cold expression on his face.

"Something ain't right," Jack jumped off the boat and back onto the muddy ground, bits of his return landing on my jeans. I would have cared if it wasn't for now, cold tone that lurked between us all.

"There are tracks that go from Marry's boat to the trail, but there are four sets, and one of them is coming from the trail and heading directly towards the boat," Jack motioned for a single trail of muddy and scrambled footsteps that lead through the grass to the edge of the water.

"Now, I'm not one to be a worry wort, but this and the lack of lights on the boat means there may be trouble," I stared at Jack as he circled the patch of grass around us before he stopped a few feet from the tall grass trail staring aimlessly towards the ferry beyond.

"of course, I might be spitballing boys, and the power might have just gone out, and the trail back is just one of the girls forgetting something on the riverboat," no one spoke after Jack's words because almost instantly, he had raised a radio of his own to the air. A short series of static filled the air around us, the annoying noise sending a clear but chilling conclusion.

"But too much seems to be going wrong for there to be anything right," it was the most chilling Southern thing I've ever heard in my life. I looked at Elliot he looked, and without much of a take, I could see he was just as scared as I was.

"I'm going to check on the ferry. You boys stay by the boats, and if anything was to happen," Jack tossed Elliot a pair of keys in a flash. Jack pointed at the Marrys motor boat and nodded.

"take the motorboat and head towards the city," Jack pointed at the tiny sparkling lights reflecting off the water's surface. Then, without another word, the charming Southerner disappeared into the tall grass. For a moment that felt like an hour of silence, we stood there stupidly staring at the void where Jack once stood. Everything seemed to happen so fast that it was hard to register that this night which was supposed to be fun, was turning out to be a rather grim experience.

"Dude, what is happening?" Elliot stared blankly at me, demanding an explanation. I looked back at him, a confused and rightfully pissed notion plastered on my growing red face.

"I don't fucking know, man," I wasted no time getting comfortable and landed uncaring onto the soft but sticky chairs of the motorboat. Somehow even amidst the air of the swamp, I could still smell the faint but alluring scent of the women. I cringed at how creepy I sounded at this moment, my eyes searching the water behind us.

"What do we do?" I watched Elliot pace the mud-filled beach until he stopped just before the motorboat I rested on. I mentally noted his worry and personally disregarded my own.

"We wait, and we relax; I mean, let's be reasonable; Jack knows the ins and outs of this swamp. Their nothing and no one that can get to us threw him," I leaned further back into the chair, my gaze now shifting towards the ferry beyond, admiring the massive haul of the forgotten ship.

"Dude can you come with me to the bathroom," Elliot's words stopped my admirable gaze, and I stared blankly at him. I could tell he already knew the answer I would give him, so before I could even get my sarcastic ass remark, he turned and walked towards a patch of trees to the left.

"Why don't you just piss in the lake," he returned the same deadpanned stair I had given him and continued into the bush until I finally couldn't see the light of his flashlight.

Why do we act like that hell? Why did I let him go alone? How much of an arrogant, selfish piece of shit was I that I would just let my only company, my friend, disappear into the woods. The night began to consume me, and I sat in a small tiny boat alone in the dark, surrounded by creatures that would have no issue devouring me whole. Snakes or gators, the reptile didn't matter, and whatever creepy-crawly lurked within the bushes beyond had no place in my mind.

I took a small but paced breath in and out, recycling my mind and trying to reason that all of this fear was irrationally placed within me. I resumed gawking at the ferry beyond and pondered how big she was. Such a boat was eno-

"Jack," Everything seemed to stop. The chirping of the bugs and frogs around me seemed to fade, and the world stopped. Every part of my body seemed to freeze. The hairs on my back, arms, and legs sprang to life. Everything inside screamed to run. But I didn't. I just sat there in silence, almost acting in a desperate attempt to rationalize the soft-spoken woman's voice from behind me.

Ok, Sean, your easily imagine things. It's just your fear of the swamp getting to you. There is nothing out there. There's no one calling out desperately-

"Help Me!" the voice was just above a whisper from the water beyond. The same feminine voice echoed over the water. Nope, fuck this. In one swift motion, I lunged off the boat and trambled in the direction Elliot had gone, not even daring to look back at the source of said voice or attempt to run into the tall grass. Elliot was the closest, and I was going insane. Why didn't I fucking listen to him? Why didn't I join him in peeing in the woods?

I ran through the weeds, ferns, and leaves of the small patch of trees in the area. I felt my feet dig into puddles of thick muddy water and internally sighed as a pool filled my shoes and seeped into the cotton material of my socks. Now with heavy steps, I rushed further into the bush until I hit something hard and fast, running directly toward me. I opened my mouth to yell but found my face pressed into the soft disgusting dirt of the earth below. In a flurry, I glared at the thing that had collided with me, only to find Elliot's face and flashlight staring blankly at me.

"Dude, what the hell, man!" I stared at Elliot, who looked as scared as I was; his clothes were covered in dirt and leaves, and his face was red with even more sweat.

"What the fuck are you talking about? You're the one running through the forest," Elliot whispered and yelled the words out of him, glaring at me while offering a helping hand up from the soggy ground, a hand I gratefully accepted. I pondered whether or not I should tell him what I heard; the options were hed laugh at my fear or call me an idiot and label my concerns as crazy delusions. I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, a series of bright Christmas lights filled the void around the island; the ferry was covered in these lights, and the glow of some hidden energy within the vessel filled the gap between us.

"Well, would you look at that," As if the swamp heard my sense of relief, a single gunshot crack filled the air around us? The swamp suddenly stirred to life. A series of bird calls, squawks, and cries filled the dark sky around us, and soon distinct flutter of wings retreating from this island mocked us bellow. Other smaller creatures, probably rats, lizards, and frogs, could be heard splashing into the water behind us and breaking the twigs from the few branches above us. It seemed like so much had happened in so little time, and it was due to a single shot. The island had gone from a bustling ramble of creatures in less than a minute to the silent stretch of dirt, grass, and trees scattered amongst the damp, murky swamp.

Neither of us said a word, our gazes fixed on the now-illuminated ferry, then just as I saw Elliot's mouth slowly open as if to break our shared silence, three back-to-back shots filled the air. What followed was a loud wail or scream of a man replacing the natural retreat of the swamp's inhabitants. Elliot stared a time, and without speaking to each other, the two of us bolted towards the boats. Neither of us seemed to care as a loud static filled the radios Jack had given us, nor did I care when I dropped mine from surprise, the small black box falling to the swamp below.

Time seemed to slow as the swamps of dark silhouetted trees and ferns blurred around me. I could feel my body's anticipation and the muscles in my legs shift; my body was turning now the scattered rationality hiding in the back of my mind was replaced by the overwhelming need to run. It was to my horror, however, when as my body began to turn, I felt the snag of something pining my foot to the ground, some force pushing against my escape. As my eyes slowly drifted below, I saw the thick outline of a root wrapped around my foot, and at that moment, time seemed to speed up. Before I could register what was happening, the air seemed to leave my body, and my left arm braced the upper half of my body for impact. I expected pain; I anticipated the cruel surface of the earth pushing against my body, rocks, and dirt scrapping into my clothes and skin.

Instead, I felt a soft layer of wet grass cover the front of my body, and soon after impact, I felt the mud slowly seep in. It was a warm, soggy feeling like the first pellets of water in a warm shower, but I took it in all the wrong ways, the mud and grass sticking to the parts of my face unprotected by my left hand while the rest of my body and clothes absorbed the bogs mucky embrace.

Just before the liquid could seep into my hair, I hurriedly ignored whatever pain or annoyance my fall had caused; I could tell I was hurt, and every part of my body felt wet, my clothes acting as a damp sponge for the swamp water. I looked behind me, expecting to see some severe but humorous face plastered across his skin, but I was instead greeted with the tiny outline of his retreating form. I could see his shorts beaming through the night; in a flash of stupidity, one word echoed out of my mouth.

"Dude!" He stopped dead in his tracks and stared back at me, his eyes glaring daggers into me through the night. I waved my muddy arms and gestured to the beams cast over us. In return, he pointed to the swamp lands that rested behind him.

" Get up and fucking run," he slowly walked towards me, now his voice yelling at me in some weird angered whisper. I slowly made my way over to him, a slight pain tickling my once-entrapped right foot.

"You're going to run into the swamp, are you dumb man!" I yelled at him in the quietest tone possible, my voice still coming across as loud. He stammered back at me, gesturing to the fucking tall grass just a few feet away from us.

" I'm not going to risk my life running back to the boat when god knows what is out there," Elliot pointed to the tall grass, his finger aimed directly at the lit-up ferry. We were now only a few feet away from each other, tones shifting to a wholly angered whisper.

"You'd rather swim through miles of swamp water filled to the brim with hundreds to potentially thousands of Aligators and snakes than risk leaving in the fucking boat!" he looked at me for a minute, and I could tell as his eyes widened, and glanced towards the swamp beyond that he understood my point of view.

" Jack?" a voice called out from beyond our spot, the same voice I heard beside the boats, the same soft-spoken, feminine voice that drove me into the forest. I could tell now that it wasn't the swamp that had gotten to me as I registered the fear plastered across Eliot's face, his eyes staring coldly into mine. Then, from the tall grass, we heard the sickening laughter of a woman, her voice screaming throughout the small island. I heard Eliot move before my body rushed to join him, my legs sprinting through the pain and thrashing through the thickets of the swamp.

"I say if the boat isn't an option, we say screw it and swim through the lake fuck the animals and just take the risk," I heard him hum in agreement beside me. Just as a loud crack echoed through the bush behind us, another reason to get the fuck out of here.

Less than two minutes from the boats, I felt Elliot's hand snatch the back of my shirt, pulling me away from my sprint. I glared back at him and noticed he had a terrified expression plastered across his face; his eyes locked onto mine, but his head was shifted towards the tall grass just outside the small thicket of trees. Then, before I could register what he was doing, I felt his hand snatch the light from my head, shutting it off just as he did with his own; that was when I began to hear it.

"Bing bang goes your bones. The nurses are out to find you; saw and scrape, we'll cut your face. The doctor needs to see you," the voice of a young woman delightfully singing between the tall grass beside us. Her words sent a chill down my spine, and I felt my last breath get sucked into my body.

"Clip and cut. We'll steal your wings. The nurses need to see you," the sick lullaby continued. The girl's words now were paired with the swing or thrashing ray of light that jerked its way up and down the tall grass.

We regrettably followed the woman's trail toward the boats. The girl's voice seemed to kill any hope that whatever terrible actions or mistakes had occurred would elude us. Then, just before we broke through the forest, the girl broke through the tall grass, strode onto the beach, and walked towards the motorboat. She was a girl that was for sure; the rest of her was hard to make out, seeming like blood dripping from the top of her head. Her entire body was covered head to toe in blood. As if it was a leisure strip, the woman skipped over to the Airboat and sniffed the area between Elliot and my seats. A sickening laugh followed suit. Then, from the tall grass, two others emerged. A more describable girl emerged carrying Jack's limp and bleeding body beneath her. I watched in horror as she raised the gun to the sky and blasted three more shots.

"Come on out, boys!"

Moto Wehi prologue

Lucas Cross smiled as the cool sea breeze gently passed his face; the world behind him seemed to disappear as the beach ambiance took over. After the sleepless nights of student loans and days working to pay for textbooks, he vanished under the gentle waves crashing magnificently into the water's clear blue surface. He let his feet dig into the clear white sand beneath the shallow water and felt the brisk grains seep between his toes. For a moment, he felt the urge to let the gentle surf take him away forever, blissfully floating into the unknown depths of the sea, free of the hindrance of the real world.

A Seagull's cry erupted whatever peace the ocean had given him, and slowly, the world around him began to rise back into his self-consciousness. The bird's call was loud and obnoxious, the perfect pitch of annoyance for the sea scavenger. Slowly, Lucas opened his eyes, small puffs of crust hand formed on the bridges of his eyelids, and as the gates to his vision opened, he felt them trivially strain to stay between him and the waking world.

His ears tracked the persistent cry of the bird; cries reminded him of a baby, a flying, whining baby. The bird was somewhere to his left. His consistent squawks mixed terribly with the sea despite the bird's name. Opening his eyes, Lucas gazed in the estimated direction of this flying rat, and sure enough, flying a few feet above the shore, pale white feathers plastered rudely together into a bird.

The bird's stark yellow beak and dark black feathers had been plastered with its pale, trashy white feathers. When the bird turned towards the shore and glided effortlessly back towards his direction, Lucas could have sworn the bird had a wicked smile plastered across its emotionless face. For a moment, he considered rousing from the beach, grabbing the nearest pebble or rock, and trying vainly to strike the bird. But reason won over anger, and without another malicious thought towards the gull or trivial attempt at revenge, Lucas Cross rose from his beach slumber and turned back to the paradise behind him.

Nearly one month ago, in early May, Lucas Cross had the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance given to a select few and one he wouldn't let slip through his fingers. The twenty-one-year-old computer science major had been combing through his weekly emails a few months ago, searching effortlessly for replies about a brighter future. A future that hopefully provided a single apartment all to himself, free from noisy roommates and unflushed toilets. The young man graduated from Full Sail University in Florida; the tuition at said university was out of his pay grade. Instead, the money for his well-made education had been earned through multiple jobs and pulled from his life savings.

It was no secret that now, somewhat free from student debt burdens, Lucas had been looking for work. Of course, any job to get him on his feet to make an impact in his industry, coding or software maintenance, was his usual preference, but any small work or internship was a welcomed idea.

Lucas had been sitting in a local cafe, a Starbucks, using the free wifi and good coffee as a means to an end, searching through dozens of emails and useless ads. They consisted of his school's local bookstore sales and returning events; nothing was helpful to him. The young man had lost himself in yet another day of disappointment through sips of sugar-infested coffee and depressing emails.

Walking into the crowded, multicolored cafe, Lucas had hoped for more than good news; the cheery demeanor of the Starbucks was enough to forgive the massive line preventing him from any hope of a quick stay at the coffee shop. The line consisted of three gentlemen, including himself, and roughly thirteen young women ranging from many weights and sizes. Most girls were white, with two black girls wearing gym shorts and purple t-shirts near the front. The line at Starbucks was always this way: girls from the college getting their second to third dose of caffeinated sugar.

The chance of arriving during the witching hour was enough of a drive to encourage the annoying yet convenient visit to the commercial coffee shop. Lucas had defined the hour as a moment of solitude where all the girls and boys had to go to class or work. A moment where you walk through the glass doors framed by the red chestnut-stained frame and experience the serenity of a free Starbucks. Lucas had experienced maybe three to four truly peaceful trips to the shop, a quick stop in and out through the line and onto the short leather couches. Once at peace, he could browse his emails and uncompleted projects at ease, complimented by the quick and well-made service resulting in a warm chocolatey mocha or whatever cheap coffee he could afford that day.

However, Lucas had not been privy to one of these rare moments in time and had instead worked through outrageous lines filled with the trivial conversations of first-year students. Softmores were talking about whatever stupid TikTok or dance had made the top page in media today. Lucas had become accustomed to writing through lines of giggling girls talking gossip, laughing, and whispering to themselves in somewhat ironic conversation, giving no attention or care to anyone else besides them. It was annoying and outright rude to the public, but no man or woman dared speak up about the now-normalized fashion of conversation near the university. The fear of being seen as sexist or rude was prominent, but nothing controlled a man more than the internet threat. Being called out as a bigot was a death sentence to your social life, real or digital, and the idea of being a Karen was feared amongst young women, desperately preventing the mother within them from spreading.

Eventually, the young man received his coffee and found a space beside the public bathroom near the back of the cafe. Here, Lucas eagerly looked through his emails, craving opportunity, and, to his dismay, the many interviews and messages he had posted fishing for something big had all been ignored. Another day, another let down reluctantly, Lucas Cross moved into his spam folder to file through all the useless ads and pop-ups preying upon his search history when he encountered something peculiar.

A TDP email caught Luca's attention; this small abbreviation stood out among the spam ads and scams that usually plagued his inbox, desperately pawning for his meager bank account. No, the letters assembled here were professional code; his luck seemed to have changed, but he kept his cool. It wasn't mature to get excited over an email from the title. Reading further into the subject, Lucas found the company domain or the portrait of the company domain. The company's title was Ishtar Collective Industry; hesitantly, Lucas clicked the domain and prayed for the email to send him to the proper location.

Instantly, his laptop rushed him to a company website, where he was greeted with a beautiful display of media management. The site's menu was decorated in lined columns separating information sections and links to other forums. The background was a beautiful Latina woman hugging a red panda bear while it slowly chewed on a piece of vegetation. Above the attractive woman, he decided not to linger too much on the company name plastered above a summary. In short, the brief Pandora-style text read off the company's connection and essential funding.

The text detailed the company's reality, a mass organization of subsidiary companies spread throughout the globe. From genetic labs to exotic commercial tours, the Ishtar was the center of dozens of attractions and foundations driving entertainment and conservation. The bold summary emphasized their work alongside the WWF or the World Wildlife Fund. The company worked alongside the WWF to commercialize endangered species and environmental preservation.

A newfound curiosity already tested Lucas's interest; he wondered how a company in this business could own many subsidiaries. Indeed, they weren't in a profitable business; most foundations based on conservation weren't the most beneficial. More importantly, he wondered what a company founded in biological research and conservation would want with a graduate based entirely from the opposite position. What work would a company based on the natural world have for a Computer Science major?

The Company email wasn't directed or based on the Ishtar corporation; instead, Lucas found it was an up-and-coming subsidiary company founded by Ishtar's founder. The TDP email stood for Technology Development Program, and an offer of ten thousand lifetimes out of his league followed. The proposal was three months on a disclosed server, maintaining the services and accessibility of technology on a resort.

The offer proposed three months of computer maintenance and coding to prepare the individual for a full-time position. The first week was to be viewed as an introduction, and the rate of income was established as two grand per month. The email clarified that the employee's time over the summer would be a tightly watched prohibition period based entirely on testing the waters for the company's future staff. Without much thought or question, a number starting with six had consumed his attention, followed consecutively by four consecutive zeros.

The offer was too much to ignore; a desperate Lucas read more into the resort. Finally, he found an alternative thousands of miles away from his home. To his surprise, he found the resort amidst the Pacific Ocean. An island located within the Tasman Sea, a tropical paradise sticking out between the dark blue expanse consuming most of the earth. An island in the middle of the Tasman Sea, a tropical tear drop-shaped paradise filling out to be about six miles long.

What followed for Lucas was a very intense call between board executives asking for security details and openings. The aspired man had told his folks the good news and left his crowded rooming situation. Cut to a week later, and Lucas Cross was flown out to the island of Tasmania. In less than three hours, a bewildered and somewhat nervous Lucas was shipped to a remote island amidst the Tasman Sea. He was given no time to explore the country and even less time to register exactly where he was.

Lucas had never left the country before and had especially never been so far from home. He knew very little of Australia and its small island state of Tasmania and less about where he would work. Nevertheless, the small cabin cruiser expertly managed to hit every wave and surf through the Tasman Sea, making extensive, unpredictable jolts that rocked his stomach. The sea was a combination of untamed waves and foamy clouds shrouding the ship in a veil prohibiting everything twenty feet from the boat.

It was a moment of veneration when the boat finally crashed through the mist and began its smooth berthing toward the island. The island itself was something Lucas had never thought to be privileged to a paradise straight from Eden. It seemed like a cheap name for the masterpiece he had been somehow fortunate enough to look at. The island was extensive, roughly five to six miles long, shaped like a teardrop falling south through the Pacific Ocean. The curve of the island was a vast expanse of bright white sand speckled lightly by tiny rocks or broken trees. The white expanse was only interrupted by a lone river cutting deep through the island, marking a natural barrier between the north and south halves of the tropical paradise.

Beyond the beaches was a vast expanse of trees and vegetation Lucas could not identify outside the common palm tree. Small hills and breaks in the thick tree line gave the island a strange feeling, a paradise of unknown creatures and scenery formulated over years of human absence. Then, in the north, a large mountain, the slopes and crests covered by layers of thick jungle. The base leading away from the hill was home to a large cyan-blue and white building sitting beautifully amongst the jungle island, the only explicit notification of human interference scattered amongst the natural world.

"Lucas, get your head out of the fucking sand and help me," A light Southern feminine accent broke him from whatever trance the sea had locked him into. Looking to his right, Lucas saw the beautiful image of his new girlfriend, Sydney Stephan, blissfully skipping through the clear blue water. There was, of course, no balance or grace in how she cut along the shore, her feet picking up scoops of wet sand. As she approached her ridiculous-looking skip, she suddenly turned into a desperate run along the beach. Her face displayed a sense of determination. A confidence Lucas rarely saw in the young woman, even though he knew she was more capable than people gave her credit for.

Lucas had adapted quickly to the requirements the resort had given him or the parameters the company established for him to succeed. The programming and maintenance of the computer system was a job of coding and reading through more coding, searching for bugs and problems hidden beneath pages of code. The resort's maintenance revolved around the website, interface, and the island's system and settings. This included various devices he didn't care much about, including motion sensors, floodlights, and other cameras displaying unknown or hidden areas of the island.

The island was still under heavy construction, and the maintenance of said rather expensive technology was routed through one central location. So the tech shack was formed, a sweaty, unkept hut about two kilometers from the main building and lodging area, cramming around ten sweaty techies into the same room. Lucas quickly learned that under immense heat and pressure from your superior, you know much about your peers faster than you usually would.

For instance, the liaison between global communications and Kath was a very emotional woman who seemed to take the most side-hand comments to heart. She sat roughly two seats across from Luca's cramped work environment between at most three people but somehow always managed to get her loud, annoying voice across the room. In addition, the room was filled with a continuous streamlined period of business calls and promotional ads for the resort. It was every engineer's worst nightmare, but with limited time and his work under constant surveillance and testing, Lucas found ways to push through the hell hole he dragged himself into.

Through his time in the literal hell of the tech hut, Lucas had met the one person who gave him the spirit to push forward. He found that person on one of his few breaks, hidden behind a tree not too far from the tech hut, smoking a cigarette, absently staring into the thick, impenetrable jungle before her. Lucas could recall the moment as if it had happened yesterday in reality. However, the actual meetup occurred a month and a half ago, an unliking duo finding each other amidst the jungle and mist of the island.

Lucas worked day and night on a system to support and maintain an autonomous motion system. When he arrived, he was given a list of bugs and codes to ensure the best interest of the resort and its technology. The motion sensors were specifically built to provide a clear idea of where everyone and everything was on the island. These tiny black boxes tracked the movements of everything in their general vicinity. From what Lucas could tell, hundreds scattered randomly throughout the island, each picking up rats and other animals scurrying about. This wasn't their primary intention, so Lucas was tasked with providing a clear-based system for the trackers to pick up on specific motions based on the size and assumed weight of the individual.

Lucas spent his early days shuffling through a list of descriptions and numbers associated with different classified or unofficial titles in the code. Each represented another label or identification for the motion sensors. Over five hundred had to be built into the system one after the other. The work was beginning to drive him insane, and the constant blabbering of his peers cramped into a tiny box in the middle of the hot jungle wasn't helping. Finally, in a brief moment of control, the young man had managed to push himself through one last line of code before roughly signing out of his workspace and taking the rest of the day off.

He reasoned that he was halfway through the period, and Lucas had already completed more than half of the assigned work. He was already working on a final report for his superiors, discussing the work he accomplished over his three-month trial and summarizing all the shit he's done for this island. Of course, it would help if some of the code and database defining the technical mechanics of the island weren't shrouded in mystery. Lucas had worked on every list with at least two or more lines of code with a brief summary of the subject, their specifics, and classified or TBD systems. Stepping outside the Tech Hut, Lucas began the beautiful but hot walk back toward the main resort and lodges.

The track was marked by a thin layer of gravel following a creek leading to his desired destination. Lucas had become accustomed to the modern jungle life of the island with a variety of different birds and bugs, waking him early in the morning with a diverse set of cries and shrieks welcoming each new day. Being a Florida man, he had been accustomed to the heat but still hated each sweaty moment it provided. However, he wasn't prepared for the variety of trees the island had provided and the darkness they could cast. The local guide had told us that the forest was composed of many different forms of vegetation, and the majority of trees found closest to the resort were a triad of trees known as totara, silver beech, and Rimu.

The guide had gone on about how these trees were the basis of life in the surrounding ecosystem. Providing a home for many organisms occupying the island, and that the less we intervene, the better. Along this path, Lucas had often found himself intimidated by the sheer size of the Rimu trees. These towering giants had strong, thick trunks that spread far into the hidden canopy above, covering the smaller trees around them in a shroud of consistent darkness. As a result, very little light seeped through the cracks in the giant's branches, and even then, the mass alone was enough to back the power of the island itself. It was funny to Lucas that such a large tree could support such a small island, yet the guide had said these trees made essential homes to over half the forest ecology.

He didn't care much about ecology. But, to his knowledge, this island was one of many filled with a variety of small birds, reptiles, and bats, followed by a vast number of giant insects that forced him to shower four times a day. The guide had said the behavior and population of this island, mainly, was crucial in understanding the future for islands across the Pacific regarding some small population of red deer sustained amongst the ferns and vines of this paradise.

Overall, it didn't matter. Ultimately, the forest could become the constant shroud plaguing Lucas's worst fears. He tried to reason that no one or thing on this island had malicious intent and that the notorious crocodiles were only a part of northern Australia. No documented predator could perform deadly or fatal damage to a human. This was discussed during the original introduction for those outside Australia's borders. For those anxious about our time in Eden, they ensured our safety and security were one of the company's top priorities.

At the same time, the company asked they work with us to ensure the preservation and beauty of the island's biomes. As a result, a series of reasonable but still annoying rules were made to protect the resort's main tourist trap. The pleasures of smoking, drinking, and other wasteful activities became much harder to participate in; for instance, anyone smoking outside a smoking zone was to be reported to their supervisor for further punishment. Leaving trash scattered throughout our day was strictly monitored, and anyone responsible was to be sued for the estimated damage at risk.

With this in mind, you can imagine Lucas's surprise when his nose picked up on the distinctive whiff of a cigarette; the toxic smell was seemingly born from a tree a few feet off the employee's path. To his surprise, a woman was hunched under a lone palm tree, a poorly chosen outfit given her away amongst the foliage. She wore a simple black top; its dark fabric paired well with a navy blue sleeveless leather jacket. The dark colors were a stark giveaway of her presence amongst the green foliage of the forest around them. Lucas couldn't imagine wearing anything other than shorts, a T-shirt, or maybe no shirt altogether. The young man was bewildered by her choice of clothing, and as he looked her over, he was shocked to find the biker had a long pair of ripped jeans.

In her hands, he saw the dimly lit butt of a cigarette, its tiny ember burning bright within the shrouded jungle. Even in the shade of the canopy above, Lucas could make out the woman before him, a rather strange find from his point of view. She had dark brownish-red hair just above her shoulder length; the medium cut included a cute set of bangs blissfully covering her forehead. She had large, dark, surpassingly well-kept eyelashes that he had pressed used to be impossible to maintain in this weather. The girl had small brown glasses that highlighted her dark blue eyes.

At that moment, Lucas thought he could stare and inspect the beautiful but strange woman before him. At that moment, he stepped on a twig, and a loud snap echoed through the forest around them. In an instant, the girl lept to her feet, her glasses almost flying off her face. Lucas smiled as he watched her desperately hide the cigarette butt beneath her brown Dr. Martens. Further intriguing Lucas, the girl before him was now revealed to be no more than five foot three, her little form dwarfed further by the towering trees around her. Looking at him, she saw a mixture of fear, curiosity, and anxiety, all bundled up into one little white girl.

When Sydney first laid her eyes on Lucas, she immediately associated the young man with a giant. The man before her quickly rose above six foot four, standing amidst the towering giants beside them. He was a skinny man with a cute but rather long face, with one of Edie's sets of bangs she had ever been blessed with. He wore bright pink Jacky shorts and Adele's, revealing the lower half of his legs and surprisingly well-kept toes. A bland grey Hawaiian shirt covered his torso with a dark green dolphin symbol covering his left pec. His eyes were sharp, and when he smiled at her with an unexpected goofy grin, she couldn't help but smile back.

What followed was a series of questions and awkward greetings between the two. Each question was paired with a quick smoke, their secret sin hidden within the dense jungle surrounding them. Lucas learned over time that Sydney was a public communications assistant at the resort, transferring calls and reservations at the resort's main lodging area. Essentially, she handled all the essential deals and clientele that mattered for the early business and investors for the resort. However, Lucas later THought this job to be too much for her, and the young woman was an anxious and sensitive soul not built for public relations.

The girl often took the most minor, trivial, and minuscule part of any conversation that sounded somewhat deflating and either lost her shit or brooded about it for hours at a time. Lucas couldn't understand why, despite her size, Sydney was a beautiful young woman, neither fat nor skinny, despite her constant worrying about her weight. So Lucas found himself under the same tree chatting away their lackluster afternoons, smoking and talking gossip that she somehow always found a way to ask or clarify herself through all the useless talks they made up.

Eventually, Lucas stopped saying you look fine, and don't worry about it, telling her not to be her own worst enemy. Lucas had become increasingly upset at her for being so self-conscious that he started being honest with her. Brutally telling her how, in his eyes, she was a beautiful young woman and, looking her dead in the eyes and telling her that, in her way, she was a woman of beauty, creativity, and humor he had never met before.

When he said that, they stared at each other for a long moment, their bodies alarmingly close to one another, and both of their forms shined with sweat slowly within the jungle. Lucas was trapped, locked with an innocent blue gaze that stared up at him, and slowly, he felt himself drawing closer, and before he knew it, his body was locked together with hers. So the way things evolved, the daily shared smoke break became something new, and as they explored each other from a new perspective, Lucas found a happier part of himself on this island.

He wanted to make every moment they shared in this tropical paradise worth the admission, and if she had a bad day, it was Lucas's job to make it better. So when Sydney had asked the love-struck man on an evening not unlike today if he wanted to share a hotel in Tasmania, how could he refuse? A skeleton crew monitors the period between the summer and fall seasons for an easy and uncomplicated transition. Two weeks off the isolated rock in the middle of the ocean with the girl of his dreams didn't seem to have any mal effects.

Sydney had wanted special treatment, and as the rest of the staff and island personnel were packed and shipped to the mainland, Lucas made special reservations in advance. After months of coding the security and motion sensors, Lucas noticed a lack of cameras covering the south beach and bungalow. The resort had various retreats and lodging areas under construction across the island, excluding the jungle's interior parts, which, strangely to him, were the majority of cameras and motion sensors. Later, he found that these areas were designated lounge and retreat suites for those richer than just the one percent a getaway from the getaway with different areas of the island providing different themes and attractions. The South Beach was the easiest and quickest route past the cameras for a night of pleasure, followed by a relaxing morning rushing to the Southern dock for a pick-up to the mainland.

In short, Lucas had thought of everything, and as he watched Sydney blissfully cut through the shoreline, he thought of how lucky he was to be here. Meeting her was an experience he would have never obtained hidden away in this tropical tourist trap as he watched the short, well-stocked girl bound towards him. Her body was revealed by a blue one-piece display frame with an orange stripe slicing across her chest. Two well-shaped legs leading up to a rear drove him insane. The suit she chose hid no part of her body, and Lucas had presumed the island's found isolation had brought her devilish side into the light. She wasn't a fat or skinny girl, even though Sydney had the issue of constantly asking Lucas if she looked fat or thin whenever they went to lunch or community work events.

Lucas thought Sydney looked perfect, and a short girl who didn't work out to his knowledge could sustain such an attractive form. However, when Lucas asked her about her family and life in the States, Sydney disclosed a small amount of information. A series of unfortunate events had prevented the young woman from her full pot entail. A long list of years coexisting in a family plagued by an abusive drunken man had taken a massive toll on her social life. Lucas was shocked when she revealed the reality of their first meeting, supposedly a moment of acceptance and regret. Sydney had, in short, retreated from the pressures of public relations for a smoke break, and when she turned to find a lengthy task man stalking her in the middle of the woods, she had accepted the worst possible situation.

She lived a life of fear Lucas couldn't imagine, brought forth by years of torment and regret from a drunken father. Seeing her now unaffected by years of suffering and social anxiety was astonishing. Her body seemed to be a part of the beach, blending perfectly with the ocean beside them, a constant source of beauty and, in her young mind, Lucas, an example of perfection. The man in him took notice of the well-shaved legs, kept sheen and attractive allure; as his eyes roamed up her torso, he found another welcoming set sponsored by the female body, becoming him to her call.

As the young Lucas Cross stared aimlessly at the beautiful young woman, he failed to comprehend the speed at which she was tuning at him. Her form seemed to float effortlessly towards the young man, a woman of untapped beauty and potential. The idea of a day spent with this angel sent him into another string of memories and thoughts that drifted away from reality. Then, in one brief moment of panic, Sydney's body collided with Lucas, wrapping her arms around his torso and lifting her whole body weight off the beach, determined to drag them both into the shallow water.

The cold water instantly brought Lucas out of his dream-like state. The fond memories are now shifting to pure, unkempt joy as Sydney's legs somehow wrapped around his waist and her arms locked around his well-toned chest. Slowly, he felt himself further and further submerged into the shallow water, her light body gently pushing him further toward the white sand below. As his head slowly descended into the crystal-like water, he heard Sydney's sputter fits of laughter, watching him desperately flail to cushion his Imminent fall.

He couldn't help himself; her laugh carried such a child-like naive sense of joy and a chuckle of stupidity that he laughed along with her. But, his body betraying him, salty water soon flooded the space of his mouth, a bitter taste too foul for even the most desperate of men to swallow. Then, as his ears followed his mouth, he heard the unreadable gibberish of his laughter masked by the sea encompassing him.

There was peace in the water even as Sydney's body pressed him effortlessly below the fragile waves. Its delicate waves gently hold any individual in its welcoming grasp, asking them for shelter and protection amidst the abyss. Slowly, Lucas opened his eyes, his entire body completely submerged in the cool liquid. Reluctantly, his eyelids obeyed his commands and instantly greeted with the expected sting of salt water colliding immediately with his unprotected hazel eyes. Nevertheless, Lucas pushed through the minor pain and looked through the turquoise water around him, past the not-so-distant shore and into the precise trivial fraction of the ocean beyond.

With Sydney's body slowly dipping further into the ocean with him beyond, Lucas saw a line of clear sand dotted with dark blue and black rocks. A sea of colors swirled between the underwater islands as fish of all shapes and sizes swam between their hidden world, paying no attention to the primates absently floating a short distance from their home. Lucas felt his bare chest touch the soft layers of pure white sand below, and as if it were snow, he began to spread his legs and arms across the smooth surface. Then, in slow, ungracious movements, he crudely made the worst snow angel in the sand below, barely scratching the thick sand supporting him.

Suddenly, he felt the tingle of Sydney's touch slowly loosening around his chest. Lucas could feel her delicate fingers slowly creeping towards his hair, her sharp, well-trimmed nails sending tingles throughout his freezing body as they crossed his neck. The tingles continued as Sydney's fragile touch seeped into his hair, curling their way around and exploring the wet mop that used to be his hair.

Then, suddenly, she pulled at his hair, almost jerking his head out of the water. The sharp pain, however, faded from Lucas's troubles as a loud, indistinguishable bang roused him immediately from below the surface. Upon breaching the water, Lucas heard the cries of birds a great distance away, followed by the crack of a gunshot.

Syndey was off of him, now scrambling towards the dry beach we had left, marching to a large tout bag full of our clothes and snacks for the night ahead. Beyond his girlfriend, Lucas could see a wave of birds flying north from some point further inland, clearly disturbed by whatever transaction had occurred within the jungle. Lucas's eyes, however, couldn't help but roam in the direction of Sydney's retreating rear. Her position in front of him almost kicked him from a state of severity if it wasn't for the faint crackle of his radio belted to his cargo shorts lying in the sand.

With a sigh, Lucas got up entirely out of the ocean and slowly approached the radio. The gargling had continued, and he could've sworn he heard two distinct voices through the comms.

"Little bas** Bit m* *n *** **s," the first voice carried a thick Latin accent, and Lucas didn't need confirmation to identify her. It was indisputably Sofia and is the only known Latina working on the island, at least from Lucas's perspective, already piqued his interest.

Sofia was to be one of the park's many tour guides and trail experts, helping clients traverse the terrain and informing them of whatever stupid question was on their minds. To his knowledge, Sofia was hired by some park in Costa Rica and was using the money made here to provide funding for conservation.

"Are *** ** Dang***," the words barely formed into a sentence, but Lucas recognized the voice as Andy. Andy, the resort's head of security, was one of Lucas's only friends; their initial meeting was not ideal. Simply put, Andy had caught Lucas one day sneaking off with a pack of cigarettes. However, instead of apprehending him due to his activity, the two shared the rest of the day, smoking blissfully under the hot sun.

"You owe me big time, Amante," Sofia's voice cut clearly through the radio, and Lucas was just two steps away. But, to his surprise, Sydney had a calm, almost relieved expression. The conversation between the two outdoorsy must have settled whatever fears the supposed gunshots had created. Reaching for the radio, Lucas heard the distinctive click of static before he could make peace.

"I owe you nothing. I didn't think you were easy to scare," said Andy, one of the most masculine-driven men he had ever met. He was an all-bred white American passionate about guns, girls, and the outdoors. He would often disclose arrogantly to Lucas about his daily run or how much he lifted before starting the day, but his tone and body language supported every word spit out of his toxic well of a mouth.

" You think i need some little chico like you to protect me you must be one son of a perra chupando las palabras de sus papás si crees que te necesito polla de lápiz!" Sofia spat right back at him. Even though Lucas couldn't understand her words, they were like poison. The exotic language carries a sense of power into the area around them, silencing any hope of interjecting into the conversation.

"Softy, you know I don't speak that language. Please use English and tell me exactly how far you are from the tree lounge," with a moment of pure stupid realization, Lucas put the puzzle pieces together and sighed internally at his coworker's actions. They had the same plan as the couple stranded on the beach, listening to the annoying couple blabbering insults at each other, building up massive tension, and eagerly waiting for it to burst.

Lucas couldn't believe it; he had known this about the couple for some time but still couldn't believe it. But, of course, they weren't trying to hide it; Lucas had found the two intertwined one night, grasping each other within the hot mist and bubbles of the public hot tub just a few yards away from the lodging area. The strange part was that even when explicitly driving towards the same goals, they didn't seem to care or even register the other in question.

The stranger part was that even though they seemed to hate one another in every interaction, they shared that they appeared to be the most likely pair on this island to happen. Andy was a confident six-foot-two man also in his early twenties. He had a well-tanned muscular frame that came with the addition of making any girl he seemed to flirt with a giggle at whatever dumb comment he made. Sofia was an exotic American dream from a Victoria's Secret catalog, her dark bronzed skin meshing perfectly with her well-toned hourglass figure. The girl had a similar effect on the boys when she addressed them in her fluent English, often spilling into aggressive Spanish when she caught them catcalling or attempting snide comments.

They could have anyone they wanted on this island, and through his many conversations with Sydney, it wasn't just his opinion. The two had the most polar ideals and antagonistic relationship he had ever seen in a duo. But together, they created the perfect anomaly of a couple neither displaying the right or wrong attributes but rather living with each other. Whether through rigorous competition or performing the old devil's tango to relieve whatever crazy problem they had accumulated.

Lucas heard a loud static hiss emanate from the radio, followed by Sofia's raspy growl. She rolled her tongue as if intimidating a predator, surveying its options and waiting patiently to strike. Lucas was ashamed to admit it but found her aggressive and somewhat competitive nature attractive.

"I'll be there in twenty, don't be late, juegete," before she could click her radio off. However, Lucas jumped into the conversation, the hiss of static silencing the competitive couple, not expecting an intruder or audience to their private chat.

"What are you two up to?" The radio momentarily remained silent, his words seemingly stunning the two golden models. Then the radio hissed almost comically to life, a loud static erupting from the slight black box hinting at least one of the couple's interests. The static hissed for two minutes before Sydney sighed and rolled her eyes, clearly exhausted and bored from the lack of conversation and cooperation between the two hidden parties.

"Lucas, what on earth are you doing here," the hiss ended, and Andy's confident tone struck through the air around them. His words carried no comedy and conveyed only a matter-of-fact, severe tone.

"Just enjoying the privacy the resort offers," Lucas winked at Sydney, who rolled her eyes while picking up the bag of food and extra clothes. She hid a slight shade of red behind her pride, and Lucas watched her amble towards their destination, the motion of her hips beckoning him to follow.

"Where are you two headed?" Instantly, Andy's words broke Lucas out of whatever perverted daydream he was beginning. A puzzled look was now displayed on his long face, somewhat confused by Andy's question. He knew somehow that he wasn't alone even though, to Lucas's credit, he had covered his tracks rather well, ensuring Syndey they would avoid the peripheral cameras and motion sensors.

"what do you mean two?" Lucas slumped his navy blue t-shirt across his chest as he began to walk amply behind Syndey. Carefully, Lucas began to retrace the footprints she left behind, sticking out as dark pudges in the dry sand. His long legs easily gaped at her small steps, poorly trying to hide their tracks or evidence of the duo with unhinged lines and puddles of dark sand, not that it mattered.

"Lucas, I don't need to be a genius to know who you're coiling around the island with," his voice carried such a smug, matter-of-fact tone that Lucas immediately rebutted his confidence, surprising each end on the radio.

Lucas didn't know how to respond for a moment, and his trail behind Sydney had halted. The young man stared at his girlfriend, walking blissfully ahead of him, and slowly felt his cheeks grow warm from embarrassment. Andy and Lucas were two faces of the same coin, each desperately taking advantage of the secluded and temporarily desolate resort. Lucas found it even more amusing that the head of security took advantage of his post journeying more deeply into the jungle, risking exposure to enjoy some pure, uninterrupted pleasure.

"Lucas, I know you know that I know what you and I are doing," Andy's words were fast and transparent, coming through the radio and expressing the unspoken truth between them. But, for a moment, Lucas was worried Sofia would have responded in a quicker, more aggressive, and more terrifying combination of words and destruction. But before either Andy or Lucas could answer, thunder roared its distant crack of power, only slightly shunned by the dense jungle valley between them.

"I'm guessing you heard that, and I'm making a calculated guess that Sofia is getting the same weather hitting me now," his voice was clear, but it meshed with the light-dripping sound. A slow, inconsistent drip immediately notified Lucas that it had begun to rain. Immediately, his gaze shifted to the sky, and for a split second, he was bewildered at the lack of dark grey clouds looming above him. Just an enormous blue expanse mirroring the sea beside him, the lack of clouds was a strange feeling, knowing the weather waiting for them just a short walk inland.

Then Lucas felt a gust of warm air brush past him, the thick blast of air quickly cutting through the dense bush beside him. He recognized it as rain air, a warm wind that blissfully alerted the world of their forboding superiors. The counter-productive pieces of evidence before him only continued to puzzle him briefly until realization hit him square in the jaw. But, of course, there were no clouds above; the storm hadn't reached this side of the island. The weather down here was that of a tiny rainforest, small bursts of clouds pouring light to heavy rain across fractions of the island.

The storm hadn't reached the island, but the island itself, in some strange way, was preparing for the coming storm. Taking a minute to look away from Sydney, Lucas stared deep into the living world of bark leaves and vines beyond the white beach. The light fog that usually formed amidst the continuously fluctuating climate was much heavier than usual, and the sudden realization kicked him to attention. His pace immediately quickened. The last thing Lucas needed right now was to be out on the beach during a storm; caught in the rain is one thing, but being caught in the open near lightning motivated him to get to shelter.

"Lucas, listen, the storm's moving in fast. It's not hard yet, but when the sun is down, it's going to get bad, heading straight through us, making a B-line for Melbourne," the severity of his condition was suddenly dawning on Lucas. He had expected the storm planned for the coming shower. It was to be the ambiance of their retreat, blissfully enjoying themselves amidst the natural rage of the earth as it slowly passes through. The storm slowly crept toward their location, and Lucas had only one option.

"I can't imagine why you're not responding but know I'm joining Sofia in radio silence. Let me know if anything happens, and when I say that, I mean it must be direst of situations," Lucas didn't bother to reach for the radio to respond. Not because he had no devious last comment or was bored with his radio companion. No, he was too busy kicking his body into overdrive, sprinting across the white sand toward the now-distant form of a Syndey.

Lucas had wasted too much time on the radio with Andy and had underestimated Sydney. When Lucas looked back at her, she was now at the beach's edge. Her form crouched among the sand, seeming to toy and poke at something on the sand. Lucas wasted no time and pushed his body further toward his destination, recalling the plan and praying for whatever god could shed some mercy on his desperate soul.

The exotic getaway from the getaway was just about a yard once we reached the southern beach end. They would be forced to take shelter amidst the jungle if they failed to get it before the storm. That option would immediately ruin the vibe Lucas was going for, and it was hard to play sexy amidst the mud and bugs of a wet dirt floor.

The wind blew hard to Lucas's right; even now, the warm breeze became a cold reminder of his ineptitude. Forcing the man's already terrible-looking sprint across the beach to hasten, kicking up mounds of innocent white sand in his wake. Despite his sloppy form, he was making ground only a few more yards away from Syndey, who was still hunched over, playing with something on the beach's surface. To his surprise, the thing she was playing with appeared to be moving, its dark-colored form doing circles around the motionless Sydney, darting between the left and right sides of her peaceful form.

As Lucas gained more ground, he picked up on more evident details of his girlfriend's situation, and immediately, his demeanor began to relax. She looked fine. Her rapid hand and arm movements exactly replicated the actions of a child trivially attempting to grasp a leaping frog. Now, only a few feet from her, Lucas had a decent view of the creature darting around his girlfriend and could bask in its adorable nature.

She was playing with a lizard roughly the size of a cardboard shoe box. It had a long, rounded face and short bowed legs. From his approaching distance, Lucas could see a stark brown layer of skin patterned with light green spots and a stark white underbelly. The most exciting thing about it to Lucas was how fast it was moving at such an alarmingly consistent speed, darting between Syndey's resting legs in less than a second and playfully attempting to jump onto her lap. Each time, it tried. However, it failed with a sad but cute harmless tumble onto its back. Each time, he spun in the sand, rapidly kicking up small particles of white dust, and to Luca's amusement, tried again. This time, however, in an impressive display of determination, the little lizard leaped onto her lap, joyfully bobbing its delightful little head upon its sudden success.

Lucas couldn't help himself; just about seven feet away from the adorable duo, he let out a small chuckle at the little thing's achievement. The victory was too cute for him to acknowledge in silence. As soon as he let his joy slip, however, the lizard stopped bobbing and turned almost immediately to Lucas, a set of dark orange eyes staring into his soul. Now Lucas was only four feet away, and he could see the little thing in much greater detail and found its reptilian form oddly strange, almost alien-like. Sure, it looked like a lizard and displayed no other qualities to defer Lucas from that conclusion, but the little creature had features Lucas couldn't quite place.

For instance, its round head appeared to be the basis or start of a large snout connected to a smooth, flat head. In addition, the brown and green skin had had bright black little drops plastered randomly across its body, outlining patches in its pebbled skin. Looking closer, Lucas saw that the tiny, stubby, bowed legs had much more muscle than he had initially observed. The strength was much more defined and resembled a sense of control over its movements, a trait he hadn't expected from such a tiny little thing. It had no claws, just four rather large feet with no nails or means of climbing trees; the lizard must be like a gecko rather than stick itself to surfaces rather than climb them.

The creature stared at Lucas before suddenly turning back to Syndey. Its adorable little head is now looking directly into her confused soul. Then, in the forgotten jungle just a few feet away, a loud snap of a twig could be heard echoing across the now quiet sandy beach. The breach in the uncommon silence around him brought Lucas's attention away from the tiny lizard and onto the situation as yet another unsettling realization dawned on him. From some point between Andy's call and his ugly sprint to Syndey, the forest around them had gone entirely silent, absent of the constant cry of birds or the buzz of insects.

The sudden silence was paired with the foreboding gusts of wind absently against their chests. Sydney noticed the silence; Lucas could see her joyful expression change as her attention shifted from the tiny reptile in her lap to the direction of the loud snap. The island wasn't a place of silence, but here and now, the entire island felt like it was watching them, waiting for something unexpected to happen. Lucas starred in the jungle, his eyes darting from tree to tree, searching the forest line for any sign of life or danger.

The lizard was the one that made the first move, its tiny body jumping elegantly off of Sydney's lap onto the white sand. It landed perfectly, its four legs efficiently supporting it just a few inches off the ground as it strode towards the forest, its adorable tail swishing behind it, creating tiny waves in the sand. Before Syndey or Lucas could do or say anything in response, however, the small reptile clocked its little head towards them and chirped. Then, in an instant, the little thing sprang into the foilage, disappearing amongst the vine and ferns of the jungle. Its tiny footsteps did little to help the silence surrounding the couple, who, for a moment, just stared aimlessly at the spot in the sand the lizard had chirped.

"BOO," the radio sprang to life in a fury of static as Sofia's loud accent broke the looming silence around them. Lucas jumped at the sudden noise, and Syndey, who had been about a foot away, scrambled to her feet in a panic, a loud gasp escaping her throat.

"Haha, sorry, Amantes, just trying to scare Andy. I saw him crossing the field in a rush, trying to outrun the rain," Lucas couldn't believe her immaturity. What kind of adult would risk such noise in such a situation? Then it dawned on him that Sofia had no idea what they had just experienced and that, in her mind, she had just scared the crap out of Andy. It was something he would do, so all in all, how mad could he be? Plus, surprisingly, the jungle ambiance had returned. The buzz of cicadas filled the air, and Lucas took a moment to relax, realizing the sun was still slowly dimming across the horizon.

"Unbelievable," Syndey, on the other hand, looked furious, her entire body speckled with sand dug up from Sofia's sudden jump scare. Then, in a rather appealing manner, she slumped back onto the beach in defeat, releasing a long sigh of air from the harmless experience.

"Come on; we're so close. Just round this corner, then it's a short walk away from Heaven," Lucas heaved her small form off the beach, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her across his shoulder. Then, her stomach resting comfortably on his shoulder, Lucas began to spin and shake Sydney to lighten her spirits while removing whatever pesky sand had invaded the beautiful woman he was sharing the beach with.

"Ok, ok, I get it. We're close. Let me down, you big hunk," Sydney giggled as her arms pounded harmlessly against Lucas's back. Her helpless state entirely at his male nature, whatever primal nature he had left, seemed to take over. Without another thought, Lucas mustered the strength to lift Sydney above him. Her smile gave the man enough courage to attempt something so stupid that only a movie could make it work.

In a vain attempt at romance, Lucas Cross lowered the love-struck Sydney slowly towards his lips. As he dropped her, he suddenly felt his grip loosen around her waist. Before reacting appropriately, he felt her forehead crash into his own. A brief flash of pain followed shortly after the expected bonk of their heads. Before either of them knew it, Syndey's weight overtook the remainder of Lucas's body. In a flurry of laughter and groans, she landed on Lucas as his body fell into the soft sand below.

For a moment, the two just stayed motionless, laughing into one another, before their lips met and their tongues intertwined in a way any outside party would judge them for. Lucas's arms wrapped affectionately around her waist, pulling their bodies closer together; he could feel her heart beating rapidly through her breast. The loud thumping encouraged Lucas to salvage whatever romance he had unintentionally created, moving his right hand up the slender curves of her back. Tenderly, Lucas rubbed his way up her soft neck and caressed the back of her head. His fingers delicately dug into her still-wet hair.

For a brief moment, Lucas opened his eyes to gather a quick review of his advancements. But, to his delight, from what he could tell, Syndey was enjoying whatever event they were having on the beach. Her tongue seemed to be taking authority in his mouth. In response, Lucas lowered his left hand to caress Syndey's rear. His hand was just above her right cheek before a cold hand stopped him. To his dismay, Syndey pulled away from the kiss and sat up on the disappointed young man, his intentions spoiled.

"Save it for the bed, lover bo-" Before Syndey could finish her sentence, thunder echoed around them. Both lovers were on their feet instantly, shuffling quickly towards the tree line beside them. For no particular reason, the two began to dust and rearrange their sandy meshed clothes from their beach moment. As if the storm was watching their secret sin, judging them silently from above until it dictated their deserved punishment.

The two looked at each other rather than the sky; the cloudless blue expanse above was now becoming a dark landscape spotted with uneven spots of fluffy white clouds shaded as the remainder of the sun slowly dimmed across the horizon. It was getting dark, and they only had a few minutes of sunlight left. Lucas's heart began to race as he realized he had wasted too much time staring at little lizards and attempting romance.

"the lodge is just around the corner," Lucas smiled at Syndey, hoping his fear would be hidden behind a false confidence. Instead, it worked, to his surprise, and Syndey smiled back at him, brushing sand off her swimsuit before returning to the beach, skipping ahead of him again.

"Just around the river bend," She spoke in a sing-song voice, exaggerating the words river bend. She had taken Lucas's words and immediately responded with a short verse from one of her favorite Disney songs. With a smile, Lucas pondered how only someone as beautiful and utterly confusing as Syndey could make a shitty situation hopeful just by singing a line from Pocahontas.

Lucas quickly paced himself until the two were walking side by side across the remainder of the beach. The white sand began to fade into the dark grey, and black pebbles were strewn across each other, creating a very unfamiliar surface comparable to hot gravel. But it wasn't hot, quite the opposite; however, as their feet navigated the unknown area. They found their feet exploring a smooth pattern of cold, wet rocks melded together from the tides.

Finally leaving the beach, the couple rounded the bend from the island, preventing them from witnessing whatever wonders lay beyond. Rounding a rather unkept bend in the island covered with rocks and putrid sea trees washed ashore, decaying in the once-present sun. The couple finally came upon the lodge they had journeyed so far for.

To their surprise, the lodge wasn't a lodge or condo; a bamboo-style cabana stood amidst the palm trees resting perfectly between the beach and the forest. The wood was sewn together so that you could tell the shelter was more than just a bunch of twigs strewn together to make a home. No, the wood itself was connected to a large red stone establishment. The roof was a series of orange terra cotta tiles that slowly dripped the collective drop of coming rain onto the soil just inches away from the Red stone establishment.

Lucas felt his body surge with anticipation even amidst the arrival of the coming storm. He felt a new sense of security, knowing their journey would finally come to a fruitful end. After a night of pleasure and relaxation in the morning, the two would meet with a fishing boat. Neither knew how to fish, but Lucas had paid extra for a cruise across the Tasman Sea. It was a calming end to their perfect weekend and a beautiful tour with dolphins and basking turtles floating aimlessly throughout the ocean.

As the two approached the fancy bamboo green-style door, Lucas noticed Sydney's breath hitch. He thought nothing of it momentarily and continued towards the beckoning door before him. That is until the absence of her footsteps digging bashfully into the sand ceased to exist beside him.

"Lucas, what is on me," Lucas felt the hairs on the back of his head stick up; Syndey had spoken in a relatively unfamiliar tone. A tone he had not thought her capable of, her words brimming with anxiety, her voice barely over that of a whisper. Each word followed the other, her voice initially stuttering on his name before she quickly spat out her following question.

Lucas didn't have time to turn or protect his seemingly distressed girlfriend because, before she knew it, a shrill scream escaped her lips. Before he knew it, Lucas felt her arms and legs wrap around his back. Unlike the romantic and well-choreographed routine the two had swung into, Syndey had managed to dig her legs into his sides, clinging desperately to him.

"Oh my god, Lucas, it touched me. I felt it touch me!" Her arms constricted around his throat, preventing the young man from breathing, much less speaking. As he attempted to readjust her and increase his chance at the air, she seemingly found her way around him, her arms gaining an unnatural amount of strength, preventing his escape.

"It's a spider, oh Lucas, no, it's a fucking spid-" She stopped, and her grip immediately loosened around Luca's throat, allowing the young man a chance for air. Before Lucas could reprimand her actions, however, a small click announced itself from the sand below them.

The little lizard was back; its tiny, scaly form was curled in a ball, shivering against the white sand. A single orange eye stared into him, darting between the aroused couple and the brewing sky above them. In an instant, he felt his heart melt. The little thing was scared, probably alone and terrified of the coming storm.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, baby," Lucas felt Sydney slide off his back and watched her rush over to the lizard. She slowly stroked the back of the lizard's head, tracing her fingers gently across its pebbled back. The tiny thing instantly uncurled itself and scurried into Syndey's touch, rubbing and clicking into her hand.

The behavior was odd for a reptile; Andy had told fishing stories of northern Australian crocodiles. He had described them as survivors from a bygone era, monsters so cold and relatively emotionless they carried their young in their gaping jaws. Maneaters that hunted and preyed upon us without a second thought or worry about our power. He told hunting stories of monitor lizard scavengers that would pick apart a dead or dying animal and prey upon the buzzards that followed. Fights between the lizards often broke out. Andy was adamant that they felt no fear nor emotion in times of distress; even losing entire limbs was a minor inconvenience to these monstrous creatures.

However, this lizard behaved like a puppy, chirping joyfully between Syndey's strokes. Sydney seems to have befriended the little reptile, curled her finger beneath its chin, and scratched the underskin of its jaw and neck. Then, in typical dog fashion, the baby flipped itself effortlessly on its side, a dark blue forked tongue dangled aimlessly out of its tiny jaws. Lucas expected small dagger-like teeth found common within reptiles but was met with its mouth's gummy pink interior. However, while the little guy may have lacked any aggressive or predatory features, the little one began to drool a pure white substance onto Syndey's exposed hand, and a bitter-sweet odor, almost like rotten fruit, entered the picture.

Syndey visually gagged at the substance, her hand slightly jerking at the lizard's disgusting slobber. Lucas chuckled as his girlfriend desperately tried to shake the essence off her fingers. The white goo seemed adamant about staying in its new home. Lucas watched amusement as Syndey waved and flailed her hand like some blind cheerleader. Lucas didn't know how to react when the tiny lizard began to chirp at Sydney, its head bobbing up and down as she flaked across the beach.

The thing was laughing at her, or it at least appeared to be; Lucas felt the constant chirps or launching from the pigmy lizard had broken Sydney's efforts. The young woman dug her hand from the sand, staring daggers at the estranged duo watching her. Sydney's fingers were still coated in a thick white substance, and her efforts to cleanse herself with sand resulted in a sandy slime coat. Sydney's hand's preoccupied state reminded Lucas of a childish arts and crafts project covered in glue and brown cardboard patches. In a cute final display of anger, Sydney displayed her full pouty potential to Lucas before she turned and marched toward the ocean.

Lucas watched as Sydney did her best to display some form of the professional strut dozens of goddesses tier women had set the standard for. Her condition, however, carried very little grace or dignity resembling a soldier's march, her legs straightening between piles of sand, her hands planted securely to her sides. It was funny watching her attempt at seduction foiled by her own body, her hips and shoulders trying desperately to push past her rigid figure, disturbing the balance of her lovely walk. He felt his smile grow more prominent as he watched her feet get caught on random clumps of sand or her brief, painful reaction to an unexpected rock as her "Strut" continued towards the now churning water. As his eyes lingered on her swaying form, his mind began to pick apart every refined detail of her exposed body until he turned his gaze away from his lover in a cheeky flash of red-hot, self-inflicted embarrassment.

For a moment, Lucas stared into the jungle beyond the Cabana, listening to the whistling between the many vines and leaves, making them dance blissfully in anticipation of the coming storm. Finally, finally, he was ready; they were prepared. The young man didn't understand why he was so nervous; they had done this for him for a hundred cycles. Maybe it was the idea of what came after the future they could create working side by side outside this hidden Eden. No more distractions, no more stops, no more little surprises. The couple had come here for one thing, and no barrage of cute lizards would stop them. Lucas brushed the minor mixture of dirt and sand off his body and straightened his back, flexing his muscles and cracking his bones, prepping for the magic yet to come.

"Well, little guy, you're welcome. You come inside, but I'd instead take my chances in this storm if I were you because it's about to ge-," As Lucas turned to address the lizard, he was shocked to find the little thing had once again vanished. Its form was absent from its position in the sand beside him; the only remnant of its presence was the small wiggly line in the sand curling towards the forest beyond.

Lucas was stunned that the little thing could slip by him without much trace or hint of his presence left over. Before the young man could ponder on the reptile any longer, a large wet droplet of water slammed against his head, dousing the base of his hairline in a small explosion of water. A hail of unrelenting rain followed the initial drop, and the roar of thunder boomed overhead the storm, obnoxiously announcing its unwelcome presence.

"Sydney, it's time to go!" was not the sexiest way to say let's get this going in paradise, but the storm was coming down hard. The hail almost silenced him entirely, not to mention the initial roar of thunder had lasted just over twenty seconds. The ripple of the storm's power was seeping across the island as its full might began to rip and tear at the jungle's trees; the defensive wall of foilage churned and shook, protecting the forests that lay beyond. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the many palms and bushes scattered amidst the beach as the massive leaves whipped about erratically in the wind. Lucas watched with mild satisfaction as the storm claimed its first palm leaf. The large green umbrella was torn from its home and peeled apart from its brothers and sisters. Lucas watched as the leaf was husked into the sky and lost to the storm above, hidden amongst a now grey and black sky.

Lucas watched her scurry towards him, her body moving as intended, unwithered by whatever desire had driven her before. Her body launched into the air briefly before she locked her arms and legs around Luca's waiting body, and the couple hastily approached their shelter. The threat looming above them pushed Luca's muscles through Syndey's weight, and the man did not hesitate to kick the bamboo-style door open.

For a brief moment, the couple surveyed the room in all its glory. However, the room was shrouded in darkness. Every inch and cranny lacked the necessary light needed to enjoy their time. Before Lucas could voice his complaints, the lights illuminated as if on cue. They were not actual wax candles but small fake bulb-headed candles that shined dark orange rays into the room. The two felt a new sense of urgency as they were graced with power shelter and, most importantly, a bed.

The lovers wasted no time dashing past the living room area. Lucas glanced at the beginnings of a black leather couch sprawled across a colorful green and red rug. Then, finally, his feet reached some hard surface, the cold floor sending a chill up his body and encouraging further actions. Lucas was between Sydney's remaining clothes in a flash, tenderly caring for the woman he loved, digging his face into her neck. His hands explored the secret confines of her body, hidden through layers of social laws they had followed for some unknown reason, isolated within the island's southern coast.

Thoughts began to turn into actions as Luca's lips ravenously met hers, and he felt her tongue intertwine with hers. Things were heating more rapidly now; the overwhelming presence and beat of rain against the roof of the Cabana seemed to vanish amid their love. A series of subtle grunts and moans inched closer and closer toward the breaking point—a point beyond any rational thought or clarity, a moment of complete uninterrupted harmony between them. Luca's fingers traced the outline of her stomach, reaching farther south by the second, slowly teasing Syndey, allowing a taste of the blissful pleasure yet to come.

At this moment, Lucas felt a sense of pride and accomplishment; feeling Syndey shiver and squirm anxiously from his touch alone had made the entire trip worth it. The storm was a passing thought, a worry long forgotten scattered below the rather expensive-looking sheets they were about to drench.

A loud boom of thunder shook their tropical getaway, the storm reaching its full potential, the rain battering against the roof above, eager To torment the eager couple. Lucas felt his pants seemingly vanish, taken from the cunning mistress beneath him, and as they gazed at one another, basking in the dim artificial light of fake Candles, he realized the absolute love he felt for her, this woman. This kind, beautiful, quirky woman god, how is this natural right-

She stopped her tongue retreating from Lucas's mouth, her entire body going frigid. Outside, the tropical storm raged on, and for a moment, Lucas cursed himself for his arrogance; of course, she didn't feel comfortable in this weather. Anything unlikely to happen was probably soiling her mood. Lucas opened his mouth to speak, his eyes meeting hers. Still, before he could say anything, Syndey's fingers pressed hard against his lips, silencing him. he didn't dare disobey her eyes were deadly serious, her face lacking any teasing or humorous expression.

"Listen," Lucas watched as a single bead of sweat trailed down her forehead. Her eyes were locked past the main living area and towards the door from which they entered. Lucas did as she asked, curious how she heard anything in particular over the storm cries until he heard it too. Then, almost on cue, Sydney tightened her grip around his arms, locking her against his.

"do you hear it?" She whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the hailstorm. Nonetheless, her voice trembled, her hands shook, and her composure faltered. Lucas could feel his heartbeat mixing with hers, rapidly pounding against the other's rhythm. She had every right to be scared. Lucas felt his fear growing, and his eyes suddenly began searching for the radio scattered beneath his clothes. Lucas didn't know what else to do besides calling Andy. Maybe he just wanted to know what to do.

For some reason, he felt like he was running out of time if a set action parameter needed to be made, almost akin to life and death. Lucas was confused. He didn't know what to do but-

The noise was there again, mixed naturally. Amidst the cyclone, raging ambiance passed the hail and occasional roar of thunder. The couple could make out the distant but all too natural sound of a woman, the shrill but feminine pitch cutting through the downpour. A scream emanating from the jungle beyond a ragged remote call for help was only recognizable from the sheer agony presented in her volume, an unrelated cry for help hidden within the dense foliage.

Lucas found the radio under his boxers; the small black box was damp but still functional. Lucas wasted no time as if he knew the severity and potency of whoever was in trouble. Lucas's fingers trembled, stumbling with the move and buttons, setting the frequency to Andys, hoping the storm wouldn't tarnish their communications. The radio sprang to life with an initial burst of static, settling into a consistent hail of the outside shower. Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. Andy could help if he were where he said they were going. They were the closest they could be, and together, the two of them could find-

"I got you, I Arghhhhhhh! #@d#.........$#," Andys voice echoed over the comms. He was yelling and screaming, unaware of the radio or too occupied to care. He was crying; his voice carried a sense of urgency, and things seemed to become more complicated. Why was Andie's radio on? Had he been trying to contact him? Why was he outside, and who the hell was he yelling at?

Lucas looked up to Syndey. His clothes were almost wholly back onto his body. Whatever happened ruined any romantic setting they had worked so hard to create. Nevertheless, he needed to help ensure his coworkers' and his lover's safety. It was almost a moment of judgment, a test of his loyalty to protect Sydney from whatever danger had lurked on the island shrouded within the confines of the jungle.

"Andy, what's your location?" Lucas tried to keep his voice steady, desperately trying to portray the slightest bit of control for Sydney. The radio produced rain; however, whatever Andy was occupied with had torn him away from the-

Luca's composure was immediately destroyed, and his train of thought was stripped away as a gunshot echoed across the island. The unquestionable bang pierced through the gale and hail of the outdoors emanating from the jungle beyond. Sydney immediately wrapped herself in the white bedsheets, her arms clothing onto a cluster of pillows beside her, hugging them like a child would a stuffed bear.

"Andy, I have a gunshot near me. Can you respond!" Lucas was angry now, his voice carrying no sense of allusion or calm to ease his panicked girlfriend. Desperately, he filed with the radio, trying aimlessly to get a better signal, only to be met with the loud hiss of static until, finally, the channel went dead. One last hiss emanated from the radio, the final chance for communication lost to whatever lurked within the island.

The girl's screams had ceased, and there was no follow-up shot. Instead, sweat mixed with leftover rain poured down Luca's head as he silently stood motionless as if his actions had any effect on whatever nonsense was occurring within the wild. He looked at Sydney, and she looked right back at him, and in her eyes, he saw fear, fear of whatever monster had plagued their friends.

Luca's mind raced a million different excuses being made, all intent on keeping him beside her, comforting her as they waited for the storm to pass or the simple reply from Andy, ensuring a couple of his and Sofia's safety. All lies she would see through all actions, he would be judged for all stupid, cowardly excuses to protect himself.

"I'm going out there," Lcias gathered what little courage he had and spoke clearly and true to her, seemingly shocking his maiden from the bed covers, her primarily naked body displayed to him.

"don't we have no idea what's even happening? So don't be an idiot. Just stay and sit here until the storm passes and," she trailed off, listing off great philosophical points that won't matter when whatever is happening out there reaches the doorstep of our secluded getaway. Then, Lucas rushed over to her in a flash, taking her hand into his own. His eyes never left hers, and he was sure his actions had displayed the severity at hand.

" I'm leaving nothing to chance. I promise not to go farther than the fork, and I'll be back before you know it," Before Sydney could even respond, Lucas was already out the door and rushing into the jungle beyond, following the residence path into the wilderness.

Wet hail pounded against his face and mixed with the cold gale, and It was almost as if the storm was welcoming him back. Behind him, he could hear Sydney's shouts and cries of protest, but he knew she would not follow. There was no logic behind it. Instead, she would rush to change and hope for any sign of his trail. It wasn't wise to roam the jungle without a radio. Syndey knew that better than anyone. She had gotten lost once upon a time, scattered only a few yards beyond the main trail, stoned from an evening's break of work. Lucas had found her, thank god, covered in mud, her hair blown up from the island's tropical humidity.

Lucas smiled momentarily, but the thunder's roar broke him from his memory. It was impossible to see where he was going, but after days of carefully studying the island's layout and nature trails, he had a pretty clear idea of where he was headed. Lucas needed to get to the clearing. He needed to get some vantage point and knowledge of what was happening. Unfortunately, the valley was not above the forest's canopy. Still, the field was a point of the sanctuary, a sheltered area, a break for nature enthusiasts pampering the rich bastards from the outside world they chose to walk through.

Luca's feet tore into the muddy earth below his body, absently kicking up heaps of leaves and runoff. Black jungle surrounded him on all sides, but his confidence had soiled any other sense of reality. As he pushed further into the wilderness, he felt the rain begin to soften the hail and hollowing wind, fading from a cold hindrance to a minor inconvenience. For a moment, Lucas paused, allowing himself to take in the surroundings he had rushed himself into.

As if the forest was waiting for a cue, the natural chorus of frogs and bugs filled the void left by the retreating cyclone. Lucas cared little for them. His ears searched for anything, particularly anything human or resembling any form of panic or fear. All he could hear, however, was the jungle's peaceful ambiance. The croaks and chirps of the frogs seemed to be toying with him, laughing at his trivial attempt at being a hero.

Begrudgingly, Lucas continued looking to his left and right, surveying his surroundings, hoping to find some form of familiarity. Instead, the trees beside him were covered in thick vines and moss, their trunks towering into the sky. Their extensive branches impede the light of the already-shrouded moon. He had been walking for some time and had not seen or felt any sign of humanity scattered amongst the trail he had made.

Lucas paused his body, beginning to realize what had happened, his mind still denying the reality he was in. He was lost, and Lucas rushed back towards what he thought was the beach in a moment of pure panic. The leftover raindrops splattered against his head, but besides the rain, the only noise that presented itself was his own. His body crashed against the dense foliage, a mess of broken branches and kicked-up leaves left in his wake.

That's when he heard it. Lucas froze, his body shaking cold and wet, representing his soiled night. But off to his right, Lucas listened to the sound of gurgling water sound between the raindrops slapping against the jungle leaves. He needed anything to hint at his location, so taking a deep breath of air and calming himself, he set off to his right, his body cutting through the dense underbrush.

The noise was louder now, and the gurgling sound was more adamant, encouraging him to continue. He hoped for the beach, but anything would be better than the jungle. Now more than ever, he wished to be with Syndey; their bodies pushed together amidst the storm, keeping each other warm until morning. Suddenly, Lucas burst from the foilage, and his feet made contact with the soft earth beneath him and was privy to the dark currents of the River.

The River was the best, most efficient trail he could have hoped for. Yes, the beach would have been preferred, but Luca's ration side knew he was nowhere near the beach. The RiverRiver, however, was a solution. After days of studying the island's many trails and natural checkpoints, the River was the most consistent beacon. The churning rapids stemmed across the island, but each led to the south beach. So all he had to do was follow the River. Sure, Sydney would be alone longer than he had anticipated, but she was safe as long as she remained in the Cabana.

"Thank god," he said aloud. Lucas heard a soft clicking sound emanating from the jungle behind him as if in reply. Lucas didn't pay it too much attention, shrugging it off as an insect scattered amidst the mud and leaves.

Luca's mind was conflicted with caring for such noises, asking a million unknown questions at a time and doubting the unfamiliar situation's threat. The plain fact was that he had been an idiot, a fool-acting hero, to protect his girlfriend from unseen dangers. Lucas would have to apologize for his rash and unintelligent actions. Syndey was probably worried sick. The poor thing is left alone in paradise. Whoever or whatever they heard was gone, and Lucas began to wonder if the gunshot they had supposedly heard was just the crack of thunder.

Lucas felt stupid. He was embarrassed, stomping around the jungle like a fool plastered in paint, some hero he turned out to be. All that mattered now was-

A new noise rose above the gurgling of the River beside him and Lucas for listening to the growing whooping noise emanating deeper within the jungle. Then, without warning, a helicopter burst from the tree line, a bright spotlight piercing through the darkness around him. The machine's noise was deafening, silencing the natural world around him. Lucas watched in wonder as the machine hurled itself over the jungle canopy, its powerful cycles kicking up whatever leaves the storm had left over, spraying them among the ground he lay upon.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the helicopter vanished to his right, its form hidden from the thick jungle, impeding Luca's vision. Lucas listened to the rhythmic whooping of the helicopter fades its unseen form, retreating into the night. What the hell was happening first? The screams, then the supposed gunshot, and now this helicopter?

Lucas was sick of it; he had no idea what was happening and didn't care anymore. So begrudgingly, Lucas continued along the River, hopefully only a few yards away from the beach. The River curved, but he was sure enough now that if he continued straight, he would reach his overall goal. Lucas just had to keep near the River; Lucas thought he just needed a reminder insurance for his safety.

Drenched and Miserable, Lucas cut back into the dense jungle, his feet seeping into the muddy surface below his body, thrashing against the thick leaves of the underbrush. Then he heard the soft clicking again, the noise much louder now much more difficult for him to ignore. Lucas paused. That didn't sound like a bug, and it seemed to be close by, somewhere scattered within the jungle, off to his right. Lucas waited and heard it again. This time, the clicking was much louder; it reminded Lucas of a dolphin, but the pitch was all off was much slower, each click ending in a low hiss.

The hiss that followed the clicks sent a chill up Luca's spine, and before he knew it, another noise from his left, the same clicking followed by the uncanny hiss, emanated from the darkness. Then he heard it again from his right, much closer now. Whatever the thing was crashing against, the underbrush raced closer toward him.

Lucas began to run. He made a lot of noise as he ran, but still, he heard the creature behind him. His brain toyed with him, plaguing him with monsters of a bygone era hunting him throughout the forest, demons who wished to whisk him away from paradise and devour him all. Lucas could hear the growing gurgle of the River; he could think of no other option but to jump into the River and risk hypothermia. The current would whisk him away from his unbeknownst hunters and, if lucky, carry him to the beach.

He heard branches break behind him, his pursuers demolishing the world behind him. Hisses and growls prevented him from turning his head in curiosity. No rational man alive would dare face the devil in his territory, and Lucas had no intention of stopping.

Suddenly, Luca's feet trod upon the soft earth of the River's edge. He used it to his advantage, hope now surging through his veins. Lucas pushed his wet body into overdrive, his legs carrying him across the jungle floor, tearing through the underbrush, and just as he reached the RiverRiver and jumped, a large leather mass collided with his leg, pulling him back into the jungle.

Lucas wasted no time, his body reacting immediately, his free leg kicking into the large mass, hindering his escape. Lucas felt sharp teeth begin to dig into his bare skin. A series of snorts and grunts escaped his hunter, and Lucas felt his warm blood stream down onto the dirt beneath him. The flight was no longer an option. It was either fight or die now, and Lucas was determined not to die. With one final kick, Lucas plunged his foot into the source of his pain. A resounding hiss followed in response, his attacker's teeth releasing their hold on his leg. Lucas heard the creature retreat into the jungle beyond, hissing and clicking in ravenous rants and clicks, eclipsing the jungle's once beautiful ambiance.

Lucas wasted no time, and in a flurry of mud and blood, he stumbled to his feet and, in one final desperate action for survival, jumped into the River, waiting solemnly beside him. For a brief moment, all he felt was the damp air, and he feared he had missed the most straightforward jump in the world, but his fears were satiated as his body was instantly succumbed by cold water. Lucas felt the current carry him, and as his body rose to the surface, Lucas glanced back at his former attackers. Surprisingly, he only saw the river edge and the jungle that waited beyond. The clicks and hisses had stopped, and the jungle around him shifted into its usual pattern of chirps and croaks of trivial bugs and frogs. Lucas felt his eyes closing, and before he knew what was happening, the young man succumbed to a needed slumber, his body shutting down from a mixture of activity and frigid temperature.

Lucas awoke to a shrill scream erupting from the forest behind him in a flurry of mud and sand; the young man rose from his passed-out state slumped against the River's edge. Luca's body was covered in a thick layer of soil, drenched by the River. The brown dirt that covered him acted as a crust between his skin and the fresh breeze of the ocean. Lucas suddenly realized that he was beside the sea and, just turning his head to the left, could get a whiff of the fresh salty air and view the dark expanse of churning waves.

A smile crept upon his face, soon erupting into laughter. So he lived. Lucas repeated this thought to himself repeatedly that he had faced the horrors of the jungle and had come out on top. He was a survivor, a man who cheated death he had lived he ha-

A scream erupted through the beach, a distinctly familiar cry of a woman, a woman he had seemingly abandoned. Lucas rose from the sand in a rage fit before falling back down. Wet sand speckled the dirt covering him, and bits of the dust had sprayed into his already drenched hair. Lucas looked down at his legs quizzically, inspecting the source of his inability.

To his horror, his left leg was ravaged and ripped open, remnant blood dripping into the sand beneath him. Lucas reached down to touch the mangled and bloody remains of his leg, flesh dripping from the torn ligaments of his muscle. When his finger caressed the open wound, a new feeling of unrest erupted from the back of his mind. He felt nothing, pain, agony, or even the slightest discomfort. In denial, Lucas picked away at the loose strands of flesh, trying desperately to gauge some form of reaction. Still, nothing followed. Suddenly, Lucas realized that His arms didn't seem practical, failing to rip or adjust his leg to his liking. Then he realized that his entire body felt numb as a weak excuse for the stallion he perceived as heroically escaping the jaws of death.

Lucas realized, to his horror, that he couldn't feel anything, and the more he tried to move his limbs or lift himself off the sandy shore, the more difficult it became. Almost as if something was pushing him against his motor functions, leaving him helpless against the cool sand. The boy opened his mouth to scream for help, but instead, the trivial whisper escaped the confines of his mouth. It was clear now what was happening and what he was reduced-

A low clicking sound suddenly cut through the jungle, silencing the many frogs and bugs that peacefully filled the silence. Lucas's head slowly turned to face the all to a familiar sound, and to his horror, a pair of bright yellow eyes pierced through the night, staring directly at him through the underbrush. He froze what little movement he had left in his body; his form pressed against the sand and spiraled across the white surface as if he were making a snow angel.

His body told him to run, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move, his muscles spasming and flexing in hopeless attempts to function. That's when he heard the second clicking hiss erupting from the River he had just crawled from. Lucas tried to raise his neck and glance toward the new forboding volume source. Still, before he could even reflect away from the yellow eyes illuminated within the dark jungle, a new odd sensation spread across his stomach.

Lucas was suddenly aware of the sweet, putrid smell of flesh; the thick mass suddenly protruding from his waist followed the scent. With what control he had in his arms, Lucas reached for his stomach and felt a thick but slippery mass. The mass felt wet, but he couldn't be too sure, and as he toyed and fumbled with whatever had covered his stomach, a slow realization began to dawn upon him.

With all his strength, Lucas raised his head just enough over his chest to view the mass that had eluded him. What he found sent him a wave of nausea and dizziness followed by a fit of terror as the young man attempted to scream amidst the night, only allowing a small whimper to escape his lips.

Lucas had been holding his intestines, his body unable to recognize his own body or register the pain he should be feeling. Lucas started at his open wound, a mix of blood and pink-colored organs staining the pure sand beneath him. Internally, his mind was dimly aware of a series of snorts and clicks surrounding him, but all he wanted to do was scream. Instead, Lucas's head collapsed onto the sand, his eyes darting between the space above him, the only function his body could do. Then, something seemed to lift his head, clasping both sides and lifting what remained of his body. From above, he watched in horror as his guts spilled onto the sand. A large mass of blood and organs now littered the area. He knew the creature had his head clenched between his jaws. The horror of that realization was followed by the final wish that it would all be ended soon.

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