Survival Island: Last Man Standing

by Anya Merchant

  “Ah. Right.”

  “Hey Cyrus, you got any weed on you?” asked Peter.

  Cyrus stared at him blankly.

  “Are you being fucking serious right now?” he asked.

  “I just figured, if any of us would, it’d be you,” said Peter. “It would certainly make things more fun until rescue gets here.”

  “No, Peter,” said Cyrus. “I don’t. And I think that’s one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard.

  They passed a section of beach tangled in seaweed and a couple of rotten fish. Oddly enough, even though the smell was borderline rancid, it reminded Cyrus of something. He was hungry, and more than a little thirsty.

  We’ve been on the island for hours now, he thought. And we were on the plane all morning before that.

  “You know what?” said Peter. “I bet we could take a sick group selfie in front of some of these coconut trees.”

  Cyrus immediately perked up at that, wondering why any of them hadn’t thought of it sooner.

  “Phones!” he said. “Of course!”

  Maggie and Amy were already checking their pockets as he turned back to them. Cyrus pulled out his own phone, frowning as he thought about whether or not it was waterproof.

  “Mine won’t turn on,” he said, trying and failing to coax life into it through the power button.

  “Same here,” said Amy.

  “…It’s working.” Maggie flipped her screen to face Cyrus and the rest of the group, showcasing a simple background of her and Darius at their high school graduation.

  “Service?” Cyrus said, barely able to keep his excitement contained. Maggie frowned at him.

  “Nothing,” she said. “And the battery is about to die.”

  The sudden emotional crash that Cyrus felt inside his gut was hard for him to just brush off. It was as though in that moment, the unavoidable realities of the situation were thrown directly in his face, without any cushioning or restraint. They were on a small island in the middle of the Pacific, with no way of contacting the outside world.

  “Just… turn it off, for now,” said Cyrus. “Maybe… they’ll be some hope later.”

  The words felt halfhearted, and from the way Maggie looked at him, he could see that she and the others were also picking up on his vibe. She blinked her beautiful, emerald eyes and looked away from him, smiling sadly as she held her phone’s power button until the screen went white, and then black.

  “You didn’t even take a selfie,” said Peter. “No fun.”

  The four of them approached the next curve in the beach. Cyrus figured that they were at least halfway around the island. Their pace had been slow, the sand making for an annoying surface to walk across, and fear and confusion keeping them from being able to move confidently.

  More bodies awaited them, and Cyrus felt suddenly concerned about what having so many of them nearby would do to the island’s smell. He moved to go around the first one, but Maggie took him by the arm, her soft hand squeezing just above his wrist.

  “We have to check,” she said. “To see if any of them are… people we know.”

  Cyrus read her meaning clearly and shook his head.

  “We’ll check, but Darius wouldn’t die like this,” he said. “Face down on the beach… it’s not really his style.”

  Maggie smiled at that, but it faded almost immediately as the four of them split up to begin checking the identities of the dozen or so corpses on the nearby beach. Peter seemed reluctant to do his part and sort of hovered back, near the tree line.

  Cyrus found a man about a decade older than himself with blond hair and nice muscles, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose button down shirt. He moved onto an attractive woman in a stewardess’s uniform, frowning as he realized to what extent the crash had cut the passengers down by.

  He stopped by another body that was facing away from him, a man with curly black hair and a bright blue t-shirt. He turned the man over, surprised for a moment by how much the corpse looked like his brother. Cyrus blinked, and then fell to his knees.

  “Da…. Darius.” His stomach lurched, and he dry heaved onto the sand next to his brother’s body.

  “No, no, no, no!” Maggie sprinted over, sliding on her knees through the sand as she covered Darius’s fallen form with her own. “Darius!”

  They both checked and double checked for a pulse, finding nothing. Cyrus was muttering incoherently, unable to comprehend how it could have happened. He turned to look at Maggie.

  All of her face was empty of emotion, except for her eyes. Cyrus saw true sadness in those eyes, along with tears quivering in the corners, breaking loose and falling freely down her face.

  “You promised me, Cyrus,” whispered Maggie.

  “I… I don’t understand.” Cyrus squeezed Darius’s hand, feeling that a bit of rigor mortis had already set in.

  “How could you?” Maggie took a slow, shaky breath. “What good is your word? You promised me he’d still be…”

  She broke off, her words turning to silence as she fought to hold back sobs. Cyrus stared down at Darius’s face and wished that he could switch places with him.

  Cyrus worked the rake over the lawn, collecting the leaves into a single, stately pile. He’d already been over the grass once before, the previous week, but the tree on the border between his house and the empty property next door seemed to be dead set on undoing his efforts.

  He saw Darius’s car rolling in from down the street, pulling into the family’s empty driveway and sitting still for a moment before his brother climbed out. Darius had on a new pair of sunglasses, along with a nice pair of jeans. He grinned as he walked over to Cyrus, pulling him into a tight hug.

  “Little bro,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

  Cyrus smiled and shrugged.

  “Hanging in there,” he said. “I guess.”

  Darius nodded.

  “Well, at least you’ll officially have the room to yourself starting tomorrow.”

  Cyrus shifted his head to the side slightly. They’d shared that room for just about his entire life up until that point. It was crowded with the two of them in it, but it was home.

  “So you and Maggie finally got your new place, after all?” Cyrus, even though it made him feel a little sad to see his brother go. “Congrats.”

  Darius took the rake out of Cyrus’s hands and tossed it to the ground. He set both of his hands on his brother’s shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes.

  “I’ll still be around,” he said. “We won’t be living in Weston, but I’ll be dropping into town at least weekly.”

  “Sure,” said Cyrus. “You’ll be missed. It’s going to be a little weird, with just me and mom here.”

  “That’s what I need to talk to you about.” Darius’s hands tightened their grip. “She’s going to need your help, Cyrus. You have to promise me that you’ll help her stay out of trouble, and keep her on a healthy path.”

  “I promise,” said Cyrus.

  “And promise that you will, too,” said Darius. “I know some of the people you’ve been hanging out with are a little sketchy. Don’t get into anything illegal, don’t even dip your toes into it.”

  “Of course.” Cyrus smiled at his brother.

  “You’re the man of the house now, Cyrus.” Pride shone in Darius’s eyes as he looked at him. “Stand up and do what needs to be done.”

  They walked down the beach for a while, far enough to leave the sight and smell of the bodies behind them. Nobody said a thing, and Cyrus collapsed to a seat next to Maggie, staring at his bare feet and feeling more ashamed than he ever had been before in his life.

  Darius… he thought. This can’t be happening.

  “Maggie.” Amy took up a position on Maggie’s opposite side. “I am so sorry.”

  Maggie shook her head and forced a bit of composure back into her voice.

  “It’s okay…” she said, softly. “I mean, there’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

&n
bsp; “Darius was a good man,” said Peter. “One of the best men I ever knew. This is all just… so fucked.”

  Cyrus shook his head and said nothing. He wanted to reach out to Maggie, to pull her in close and give her a tight, comforting hug. It’s what Darius would have done, he knew. Thinking about that made him feel even more guilty, and even more ashamed.

  “We have to… keep going,” he finally said. “We still have to think about our own situation.”

  Amy seemed to be the only one listening. She nodded and walked over to stand in front of him, pacing awkwardly back and forth.

  “I mean, what can we really do?” asked Peter. “It won’t make a difference at this point. We just have to sit and wait for rescue to come.”

  It was late afternoon, and even on a long, tropical summer day, the sun had to set eventually. Cyrus took a deep breath and resolved to mourn Darius later, when it wouldn’t get in the way of him helping his friends.

  “Rescue isn’t here yet,” said Cyrus. “We need to keep looking for other survivors. And we need to think about what happens if they don’t get here before tonight.”

  “Right,” said Maggie. “Of course.”

  Cyrus stood up and offered her a hand. She took it without looking at him, straightening her dress out after rising to her feet.

  “I sincerely doubt that we’ll have to worry about being here overnight,” said Peter. “But you are right about finding other survivors. Come on Amy, let’s give these two a minute and head down the beach to see who we can find.”

  Amy hesitated.

  “I think… I should probably stay,” she said.

  Peter’s expression flashed into a scowl for an instant, and then he shifted back into an easy, practiced smile.

  “Whatever,” he said. “You guys just stay here, so I can find you easily.”

  “This is a good spot for us to setup, anyway,” said Cyrus. “It’s clear of, well, anything that we might not want to have to look at during the night.”

  No corpses in sight, in other words.

  Peter jogged off in the direction of beach that had yet explored, pumping his legs like the elite track star he was. Cyrus ran a hand through his hair, feeling tired and drained, but knowing that he couldn’t just check out of the situation.

  “Well then,” he said. “We’re probably going to need a fire for tonight.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The three of them collected firewood in dead silence, sticking to the border between the beach and the jungle. Amy offered sympathetic looks and the occasional comforting touch on the shoulder as Cyrus passed by her. Maggie’s demeanor was stoic, guarded, almost cold, if not for the wounded look in her eyes.

  Most of the stray firewood came from long since washed up pieces of driftwood. There weren’t many trees with easily accessible branches directly nearby, but they managed to find enough scraps to make do. Cyrus found a couple of old, fallen coconuts, probably not suitable for eating, but with dry husks that would serve as excellent tinder.

  Peter came back earlier than any of them had been expecting with another group of survivors in tow. Cyrus immediately recognized Amy’s friends, Aiden and Candace, along with Maggie’s friend Kyoko and another woman that he didn’t recognize.

  “They were on the other side of the island, looking for us,” explained Peter. “Very similar situation.”

  Cyrus nodded.

  “It’s good that all of you made it,” he said. “We’ve seen a lot of bodies scattered about on the beach.”

  He tried to keep emotion out of his voice, knowing that if he lingered for too long on Darius, on what it truly meant for his older brother, the rock in his life, to be gone, his composure would crumble.

  “Amy!”

  “You two are okay!” said Amy. “I’m so glad…”

  Candace was a plump college freshman with red hair and freckles, and she ran toward her friend with her arms outstretched. Aiden, a petite brunette girl who’d been in several of Cyrus’s classes, followed close behind, joining Amy and Candace in a tight group hug.

  Nearby, Maggie and Kyoko, a slim woman in her late twenties with a very reserved personality, were having a similar reunion, though with a much more somber tone. Maggie was whispering something to the other woman that clearly unsettled her, likely news of Darius’s death.

  I’ll have to be the one to tell mom, when we get back, thought Cyrus. If I can even track her down, this time.

  Kyoko wore a blue, sleeveless blouse along with a pair of tan capris. Her hair was jet black and shoulder length, and her eyes were almond in both color and shape. She always seemed to have a small smile on her face, even now, as though constantly drawing from an inner sense of contentment.

  Peter stood next to the last woman, who was dark skinned and looked to be in her mid to late twenties. She was of medium height and had large breasts and a very athletic build. Her hair was artificially straightened and pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she wore a black pair of yoga pants and a workout top.

  Peter seemed to be talking to her almost incessantly, gesturing out to the ocean and sky, as if going through the same motions of explaining how they would soon be rescued that he had with the others. Cyrus sat alone for a minute, waiting while a bit of the tension melted out of the group. They didn’t feel quite so alone anymore, even if their situation was still dire.

  “Everyone, bring it in.” Peter strode into the center of the group, gesturing for them to pull in closer. “We need to make things as easy on our rescuers as we can, starting by making a signal fire to draw the attention of the planes as they fly over.”

  “We’ve already started collecting wood,” said Cyrus. “But I’m not sure if it’s wise for us to use all of it in one go.”

  “It needs to be as big as we can possibly make it,” said Peter. “No point in not taking advantage of the resources we have on hand.”

  “There’s already smoke going up from, well, whatever that is.”

  Cyrus pointed to the large rock mound in the center of the island that he’d mostly ignored since first noticing it upon washing up. Sure enough, a small trickle of smoke was still emanating from somewhere within it, snaking up into the sky like a chimney trail.

  “It’s a volcano.” The new woman, whose name Cyrus still hadn’t gotten, spoke up. Most of the eyes of the group turned to face her, Amy and Maggie’s expressions a reflection of Cyrus’s curiosity. The woman took notice and nodded to the three of them “Sargent Tamyra Douglas of the US Army.”

  “Cyrus,” he said. “This is Maggie, and that’s Amy over there.”

  Tamyra nodded politely to them as they further extended their introductions, saying little.

  “Anyway,” said Peter. “The fire is non-negotiable, Cyrus. They might find the island, but they’ll need help finding our exact location.”

  “I don’t think it’s a bad idea, but let’s also save some of the firewood we’ve collected,” he said. “You know, in case…”

  He trailed off, seeing an odd expression on Peter’s face. The sun was setting over the western horizon, turning the sky a mixture of purple, red, and orange. It cast a long reflection across the ocean, and half of Peter’s cheek caught it at just the right angle to make one of his eyes look blood red.

  “In case what, Cyrus?” he asked. “In case we have to go all Gilligan’s Island?”

  He laughed, but it sounded forced, and nobody else joined in.

  “We’ll use around half of what we have to start, how about that?” Cyrus set a hand on his friend’s shoulder as the two of them walked over to where the wood scraps were gathered. “And then, if we hear a plane or helicopter overhead, we can throw on more.”

  “Fine,” said Peter, his tone of voice contradicting the word a little.

  A new problem emerged as the two of them started toying with the dry branches and tinder. They didn’t have anything to start a fire with. TV and movies always made it seem like something that anyone could do, with enough persistence and a coup
le of dry sticks.

  Peter even made an attempt at striking two rocks together to create sparks, but all he managed to do in the end was nick one of his fingers. Cyrus tried to spin a stick into a tinder bundle, over and over again, his hands starting to blister as the last rays of the sun died out.

  “What happens if we don’t have a fire tonight?” asked Amy.

  “We’ll get it lit,” said Cyrus. “Don’t worry. It’s just taking a minute.”

  “This is so fucking irritating,” muttered Peter. “The seems like one of those things that we should be able to just do naturally.”

  “Seems like it,” said Cyrus. He looked over at Maggie, who was sitting quietly next to Kyoko. She avoided his gaze, though she seemed to have recovered somewhat from the impact of finding Darius’s body.

  Darius would probably have a fire started in under a minute, he thought.

  Cyrus considered it for a moment more and then slapped a hand against his forehead. Though he’d often tried to hide it from the people closest to him in his life, Darius was a smoker, a cigarette smoker. Cigarettes, which were totally fine for him to bring on a plane, along with a Bic lighter to go with them.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Keep trying, Peter.”

  Peter grunted, and Cyrus started off in the direction of Darius’s body. Surprisingly, Maggie jogged after him, catching up to him and taking him by the hand.

  “You’re going back,” she said softly. “To his body?”

  Cyrus nodded.

  “You should stay,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to see him like that again.”

  “I know.” Maggie swallowed and leaned in against Cyrus, whispering into his ear. “Please… Can you push him out into the water? So that he’s not just… like the other bodies? Just lying there, as though they don’t matter…”

  “I will,” said Cyrus. “I think he’d like that.”

  For an instant, Maggie leaned her forehead against his, warm and soft, her hair tickling at Cyrus’s face. Then she pulled back and took a deep breath before turning around and walking away from him.