Noticing how good Amy felt against him made Cyrus feel rather ashamed of himself. She had a slamming body, and had been one of, if not the most, attractive of all of the girls back at Weston High School. Her breasts were large, shapely, and buoyant. Her butt had just enough curve to it to catch the eye without unbalancing her, and she had the kind of trim, effortlessly thin waist that made other girls catty and jealous.
“I… I’m okay.” Amy pulled back, pushing him away from her. Cyrus saw her expression drawing back into something neutral, almost cold. “I’m okay.”
He nodded. What everyone, Cyrus included, who got to know Amy White came to understand was that her personality was nearly the opposite of her comely good looks. She wasn’t a mean or cruel person, at least not intentionally, but had a habit of pushing people away, usually the boys at their school that insisted on trying to court her favor.
She had a way of looking at people that warned them away from her. Cyrus knew her just well enough to understand that it was more of an automatic defense mechanism than anything she truly meant from her core, but that didn’t make locking gazes with her deep blue eyes any less intimidating, even for him.
“Here, there’s no point in us just standing around,” he said. “Let’s go see who else we can find. We can pretend like we’re in Fiji, and just uh, on a secluded beach.”
He scratched his head and looked away as Amy shot him a look.
The beaches in Fiji aren’t covered in corpses.
She walked beside him as they continued along the beach. The sun was high in the sky, suggesting that the time was around noon or maybe just after. Their plane had departed from the states at five fifteen that morning, meaning that they’d been in in the air for around six hours at the time of the incident.
Cyrus remembered his question from before and briefly considered bringing it up with Amy again. The expression on her face told him that she was doing all she could to hold it together, and going over the details of the crash probably wouldn’t help her with their current reality.
“There’s another body,” muttered Amy. She didn’t point at this one, instead shifting her gaze toward the jungle and trees.
“That’s…” Cyrus blinked, recognizing the grey Nike Olympics t-shirt and black jean shorts. “My god… That’s Peter!”
CHAPTER 4
He sprinted the distance over to his best friend, sliding to a stop at his side. Peter was covered in sand and mud and looked even worse than the old man’s corpse had. Cyrus gritted his teeth and forced himself to flip him over onto his back.
“Pete… Please, no Pete. Don’t be dead.”
Peter coughed.
“Fuck you,” he replied.
Cyrus flipped the door to his locker open, pushing his 12th grade math textbook into the top shelf and pulling out his knapsack. It was 3:15 on a Friday, and the hall was crowded with students and an overall sense of relief at the arrival of the weekend.
He heard Peter heading his way long before he saw him, a round of congratulatory applause and cheers accompanying him in appreciation for his latest first place finish at one of the spring track meets. Weston High School took sports very seriously, a fact that Cyrus had learned himself after failing to make the cut for varsity soccer.
“Cyrus.”
“Pete.”
Peter flipped him off.
“Would you stop calling me that, already?” he said, smiling. “Peter. Just one more syllable, with that dangerously hard R at the end.”
“Hey Peter,” said Stacy, one of the varsity cheerleaders as she slipped by them in the hall.
“Stacy.” Peter smiled at her, holding eye contact for long enough for Cyrus to guess that she was probably up next in his friend’s long line of sexual conquests.
“You’re so full of shit,” said Cyrus. “That’s why I call you that, to keep you grounded.”
He gave Peter a hug handshake in greeting and nodded to him. They’d known each other for longer than Cyrus could remember, always best friends, always close.
“I have to talk to you about something,” said Peter.
“Is this about Amy again?” Cyrus shrugged. “Look, I told you, she’s my next door neighbor. We’re friends, but I don’t have any deep insight into the ways of her heart, or anything.”
Peter folded his arms and looked at him seriously, exhaling out through his nostrils.
“Dale told me something interesting in math class,” he said. “About the weed he bought last weekend. More specifically, about who he bought it from.”
Cyrus looked over both shoulders and frowned.
“Can we go somewhere else to have this discussion?”
“You need to stop,” said Peter. “You’re going to end up in prison if you don’t.”
Cyrus shrugged.
“Being poor, being on the verge of homelessness… is its own kind of prison in Weston,” he said. “My mom is… well, she’s sick. I’m the one who’s responsible for making sure we pay rent on time each month.”
Peter shook his head.
“You should tell somebody, then,” he said. “There are people, organizations that can help.”
“I’m 18,” said Cyrus. “There’s nothing. You know I’m not like you, Peter. No scholarship, No college in the fall. No rich extended family to fall back on, no offense.”
“As long as I’m your friend, you’ll never be homeless,” said Peter. “Fuck, even if we stop being friends, the offer still stands. I have your back.”
Cyrus knew that he meant it, and tried to express how much the offer meant to him with a simple nod and a slight smile.
“Thanks,” he said. “Peter.”
Peter shook his head and punched him in the shoulder.
“Just don’t go soft on me, okay,” he said. “And maybe put in a good word for me with Amy.”
“Deep breaths,” said Cyrus. “You’re alive. You’re on the beach. Just working on your tan.”
“My fucking head is killing me.” Peter groaned and sat up, rubbing his temples. His eyes lit up when he saw Amy. “Hey! How’s it going? Looking good, Amy!”
Amy frowned at him and turned to look out toward the ocean. Peter shrugged and wiped sand and mud from his face.
“You okay?” asked Cyrus. “Any major injuries?”
Peter shook his head.
“Nah,” he said. “You know me. Spry as a spring chicken.”
He spat mud and what looked like a bit of blood onto the sand next to him, rubbing the underside of a split lip.
“I thought I’d be the one looking for you,” said Peter. “Man, I had just enough time to think about how fucked you were on the way down, with those sleeping pills and shit in your system.”
“They are pretty effective,” said Cyrus. “But apparently, cold water beats them in a fair fight. Speaking of the crash…”
He looked over at Amy, wondering if she’d recovered her composure enough to join in the discussion. She didn’t seem interested.
This is too much for her, he thought. Probably too much for all of us.
“Yeah, it was weird,” said Peter. “The plane went through this like, black cloud. Smoke, maybe. Then there was this noise and the plane jerked to the side and it was like… the whole passenger compartment just split open.”
“Wait, you’re saying we all just fell loose into the water?”
Peter nodded.
“Was anybody else with you, or nearby?” asked Cyrus.
“No fucking idea,” said Peter. “It was all I could do to keep myself afloat. Started swimming into shore, but something from the plane fell and hit me…”
He brought a hand up to the back of his head. Cyrus could see the curve of a lump there, but no broken skin, and given that Peter seemed cogent, it probably wasn’t a serious concussion.
“It’s a miracle that anyone survived,” said Cyrus. “Jesus Christ…”
“Well, we’re alive,” said Peter. “That probably means everyone else is, too.”
“Pete…” Cyrus frowned, looking over at Amy. “We already found someone who… didn’t make it.”
“How the fuck would you know? Are you an EMT?”
“Uh, no…” Cyrus scratched his head, feeling uncomfortable.
“Then you don’t know,” said Peter. “The helicopters will be here soon enough, and will let the rescue crews sort that kind of thing out.”
“Sure,” said Cyrus. “In the meantime, we should probably keep looking for other survivors.”
“Let’s just think of this as a preview of Fiji,” said Peter. “We’ll be back on our vacation soon enough.”
Maybe, thought Cyrus. But maybe not.
CHAPTER 5
“We should stay on the beach for now,” said Peter. “So we can wave down the helicopters or the rescue planes, or whatever they’ve sent to come find us.”
Cyrus shrugged, feeling a little bit less confident than his friend in their near term rescue prospects.
“Okay…” he said. “Any other survivors are likely also going to still be on the beach. It’s probably a better bet for us to find people, anyway.”
Amy had been silent for several minutes. Cyrus looked over at her, meeting her gaze and raising an eyebrow.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m just worried about my friends.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I still haven’t seen Darius or Maggie, either. It’s probably best if we try to keep moving and find whoever we can, as soon as we can. Are you good to walk, Pete?”
“I’m fine.” Peter stood, not so subtly flexing his muscles as he shook out his arms and legs. “Let’s go.”
The three of them walked along the beach at a slow pace. It was a beautiful day, hot and perfect for swimming, but excellent weather could only do so much to change the vibe of the situation. Cyrus worried that they’d see another body around the next bend, and as they came around it, his fears were validated by several.
“Ew…” whispered Amy. “They’re already starting to smell…”
“I don’t think they’re dead,” said Peter. “They’re probably just unconscious, like I was.”
“Peter…” Cyrus trailed off, not wanting to burst his friend’s bubble if it was part of his coping strategy. “…Sure, who knows. Let’s keep moving.”
None of them said anything as they continued along the beach. Cyrus kept scanning the tree line of the jungle, half expecting to see a house or maybe a road poking through from in between the trees. There was nothing except dense vegetation and coconut trees, some of which, he noted, were ripe with fruit.
They heard shouting after another minute of walking, just beyond the beach’s curve. Cyrus glanced at Peter and Amy before breaking into a jog, his heart racing as he hurried off to assess the situation.
“Darius!” Maggie, Darius’s girlfriend, stood knee deep in the shallows, her gaze locking onto Cyrus with hopeful intensity.
“It’s just me,” he said. “Cyrus. Cyrus the Great.”
Maggie’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. She was wearing a pink and white sundress, still wet with seawater and tight against the curves of her body. She took a deep breath, seeming marginally composed in comparison to how his other friends had been when he’d found them.
“Cyrus,” said Maggie. “Well… I’m glad you’re okay, at least.”
Cyrus flipped to the next page of the novel he’d been assigned for homework, mentally creating a list of plot points for his 6th grade reading comprehension essay. He was trying, with mixed success, to keep his mind focused on academics instead of video games, his computer, and the fact that it was a Friday evening. He tapped the tip of his finger on his leg, frowning as he scanned down to the next paragraph.
The front door opened, and Cyrus heard Darius’s voice, pitched low and quiet, along with another voice he didn’t recognize. He waited where he sat at the kitchen table until his older brother rounded the table, holding hands with one of the most attractive girls Cyrus had ever seen.
“Hey buddy,” said Darius. “I want you to meet my friend, Maggie. Maggie, this is my little brother, Cyrus.”
Maggie seemed tall to him, but that may have been the result of Cyrus still being only 12, and not yet grown into his full height. She had chestnut brown hair that spilled across her shoulders, full and vibrant.
Her eyes were emerald green and dazzling to look at, the cheeks of her pale face underneath faintly freckled. Her lips were red and perfectly kissable, and her breasts were a little above average in size, but not huge. Cyrus stared at her stupidly for a moment before standing up from his chair and walking over.
“Um…” He scratched his head, feeling unusually self-conscious. “Hi.”
“Do you have a nickname, Cyrus?” asked Maggie. “Anything special you want me to call you?”
Her voice was sweet and soft, gentle without being patronizing. Cyrus was used to some of Darrius’s other friends talking down to him, acting as though the fact that they were high school seniors and he was still in grade school meant that they needed to hold back in conversation.
“No,” he said. “Uh, just Cyrus is fine…”
“Not ‘just Cyrus’.” Maggie smiled conspiratorially at him. “The Cyrus. Cyrus the Great.”
Cyrus grinned at her, feeling foolish and flattered.
“Cyrus the Great,” he repeated. “I’m totally using that.”
Maggie laughed, and in that moment, Cyrus wanted nothing more than to sit and talk with her for hours and hours. She was beautiful, inside and out.
“Hey buddy, we’re going to be studying in the room for a bit,” said Darius. “Probably the next hour or so. Can you give us some space?”
“Yeah, no problem.” Cyrus nodded, appreciative of an excuse to put his reading homework away for a bit. Their house was tiny enough to be uncomfortable at times, and the room that he and Darrius shared was embarrassingly small.
“Just, uh, be sure to knock first, if you need anything,” said Darius.
“I’ll… go for a walk, for a bit,” he said.
Maggie smiled and nodded to him as he started for the door.
“It was nice meeting you, Cyrus,” she said. “I hope we get a chance to talk sometime.”
“Me too.” He smiled back at her, his heart fluttering at the suggestion.
“He’s not with you, is he?”
If it wasn’t for her eyes, Maggie would have seemed to any observer to be completely calm and in acceptance of the situation. Those eyes, those emerald green eyes, were filled with pain and despair of such a depth that Cyrus found that he couldn’t meet them for longer than a second.
“It’s Darius,” he said. “My brother is practically invincible. I’m sure he’s out looking for us right now, probably just down the beach from here.”
Maggie nodded, though the gesture lacked anything resembling confidence. She walked out of the shallows and onto the beach, shaking some of the water out of her dress as she wringed out her hair.
“I promise you that he’ll be okay,” said Cyrus. “I know Darius. It’ll take more than a plane crash to do him in.”
He’s like me, except better.
Maggie flashed him a weak, halfhearted smile and put a hand on his shoulder. Her touch made Cyrus instantly and guiltily aware of how beautiful she was, the disheveled elements of her appearance only adding to her enchanting aura.
Amy caught up to them a couple of seconds later, followed by Peter, who seemed to be trailing behind her intentionally. Maggie looked genuinely relieved to see them, though she didn’t know either of them all that well, having left high school before they entered the ninth grade.
“Amy,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”
“Likewise,” said Amy, smiling back.
“I’m here, too,” said Peter. “Miraculously alive and uninjured.”
“Yes…” said Maggie. “Good to see you, Peter.”
“Wow, you look amazing in that dress!” Peter whistled. “Maybe it’s just the water, but-”
Cyrus cuffed him hard on the shoulder before he could say another word, seeing the annoyed expression on Maggie’s face. He knew his friend well enough to know that he was just trying to lighten the air a bit, but it couldn’t have been more inappropriate, given their current situation.
“We’re still in the process of finding other survivors,” he said, turning back to face Maggie. “I should tell you… there have been a couple of people that we’ve found who, uh, didn’t make it.”
Maggie nodded, closing her eyes for a contemplative moment.
“Of course,” she said. “We were in a plane crash. It’s to be expected, really.”
“We should keep moving down the beach,” said Amy. “I still haven’t seen Aiden or Candace.”
Aiden and Candace were Amy’s two best friends, both of whom had been invited along shortly after Cyrus had told her it was to be a celebratory, group trip.
“Right,” said Maggie. “And I brought Kyoko with me… gosh, I feel so terrible about it now. I hope she’s okay.”
“We’re okay, at least,” said Cyrus. “Let’s not make any assumptions until we’ve done a bit more searching.”
He nodded to Peter, who still looked a bit annoyed at being cut off before, and started walking along the beach again.
“We should probably start making a rock signal,” said Peter. “You know, in case the planes have trouble spotting us from the air.”
Cyrus frowned and looked up at the sun. It was slowly starting to sink down toward the horizon. He had no idea how long it would be until nightfall, and exactly what that would mean for them, stranded on the island.
“Let’s talk about all that once we’ve finished our search,” he said.
CHAPTER 6
“You know what this place reminds me of, Cyrus?”
Peter walked next to him, with Maggie and Amy following just behind, within earshot. Cyrus shrugged at his friend.
“What?”
“That old swimming hole we used to go to, back before Lake Mantis got all nasty and polluted,” said Peter.
Survival Island: Last Man Standing Page 2
