It took Cyrus about ten minutes to reach the spot on the beach where Darius’s body lay in the sand, just as he’d left it. Drawing close to it made him feel weak and vulnerable, and it almost felt like being a little kid again.
“Darius,” he whispered. “Big bro. Damn it, Darius…”
He set next to his brother’s body for a minute, letting one of his hands rest on Darius’s back. He knew exactly what he’d say, if he were still alive.
I need to focus on the things I can control. I need to get that fire started, and be the rock that this group needs.
Cyrus patted Darius down, finding a pack of soggy cigarettes next to a Bic lighter in his pocket. He tried to light one of the cigs, but they were too wet, and part of him knew that it would piss Darius off to see him take up smoking. He smiled at the thought and then started dragging his brother’s body into the ocean.
It took him longer than he’d expected, and he was almost in over his head by the time he found a current that seemed to be heading out from the island, rather than in. He pushed Darius’s limp form into it, waiting for a minute to ensure that the body wouldn’t come back. It was pretty dark by the time he finally started back to the other survivors.
Cyrus spooked Maggie and Kyoko on his way back into the camp, raising up his hands in a gesture of harmlessness when he saw the expression on their faces.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m back.”
“Any luck?” asked Maggie. Cyrus nodded.
“He’s… at peace now.”
Is he, though? With us still here, still totally fucked?
“And I have the lighter,” he said, forcing his thoughts forward.
He walked over to where Peter sat next to the fire bundle. To his credit, Peter was still striking his rocks together, trying to make a spark catch the tinder. Cyrus bent down next to him, struck the igniter on the lighter a couple of times until it flicked to life, and then lit the tinder in several places.
In under a minute, they had a real fire, the glow and warmth of it changing the vibe of the night to something a little less desperate than what it had been. Amy and Maggie came to sit on either side of Cyrus, and the rest of the survivors all took up places around the circle.
“We’re alive,” said Cyrus, smiling at all of them. “We should be thankful.”
Maybe for tonight, he thought. But it won’t last.
CHAPTER 8
“I’m sorry about what I said before,” said Maggie.
Most of the survivors had broken off into groups of two and three to chat with each other once things had settled down. The conversations around the fire sounded almost like they would have at any campsite or bonfire party, except for the way a few of them grumbled about being hungry or thirsty.
“It’s okay,” said Cyrus. “We’re still struggling with it. I understand.”
“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” Maggie reached out and took his hand, looking him directly in the eye. “You’re his brother, Cyrus. I’ve known you for almost as long as I’ve known him. We’ve… been through a lot together.”
Cyrus squeezed her hand back, smiling at her and trying not to zone out and think about how pretty she was. They had been through a lot together, even before coming to the island. They shared a comfortable intimacy with each other that went beyond the typical bounds of a casual relationship.
He’d considered a couple of times before how things would have been different if he’d met Maggie first, under different circumstances. She was five years older than him, sure, and it was really little more than a fantasy. But he had considered it, and something in the way Maggie was looking at him right then, the flickering firelight playing across his features, made him half suspect that she’d thought about it, too.
“Cyrus.” Amy walked over to where Cyrus and Maggie sat, crossing her arms a little awkwardly. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Of course,” he said. Cyrus smiled at Maggie, who politely stood up and took a step back.
“I’ll let the two of you have a minute,” she said. Her tone had a subtly possessive quality to it, almost like a mother, or a teacher. Maggie walked over to where Kyoko sat, and Amy dropped down to her butt next to Cyrus.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I never got a chance to thank you,” she said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She was leaning toward him, her head and legs angled slightly in his direction. Cyrus tried not to glance at the way her white blouse billowed open, her swimsuit underneath acting a bit like a skimpy bra.
“You don’t have to,” said Cyrus. “Having you alive and well is thanks enough.”
“I don’t mean for what you did on the beach,” said Amy. “I mean… for what happened before. For the other thing.”
“Oh.” Cyrus frowned slightly and resisted the urge to chew his lip. “You probably shouldn’t talk too loudly about that.”
“What does it matter, at this point?” asked Amy. “We’re a thousand miles away from the authorities and anyone who is going to care.”
“Amy…” Cyrus held a finger up to his lips. “Sorry, I just… I don’t feel like you should be thanking me for that.”
I never told her about all of it. She doesn’t know what really happened. Nobody does.
Amy scanned his expression. Her face was so pretty and perfect, but still so young. She looked like a teenage actress or supermodel, gorgeous and growing even more beautiful with every year.
“You’re right,” she said. “But still. I appreciate it.”
Cyrus nodded curtly. Amy stayed sitting where she was, clasping her hands together and looking into the fire.
“Do you remember anything about the crash?” asked Cyrus.
She nodded slowly.
“The plane flew through some kind of black cloud,” she said. “I know how that sounds, but it’s the truth. It was like… suddenly all the windows were dark, and everything smelled like smoke. I thought it was from the engines, but after seeing that smoke plume coming from the center of the island, I don’t really know…”
“All of the smoke might have affected the plane somehow,” said Cyrus. “But still… that doesn’t seem like enough to make it crash.”
“There was this enormous, booming noise,” said Amy. “And then the plane just… disintegrated. It was like something shattered it, like smashing a plate.”
Cyrus thought about it for a second, unable to get a clear picture of events in his mind.
“We really are lucky to be alive,” he said. “I’ve heard of people dying from plane crashes that happened way less dramatically than that.”
“We are,” said Amy. “And we’re lucky to have you here with us.”
She smiled at him, and Cyrus felt oddly self-conscious.
“Hey, I haven’t done anything,” he said. “Just what anyone would have done.”
“You know, my sister was talking about you last week.”
Cyrus sat up a little straighter. Amy’s older sister, Lana, had been a teacher back at Weston High, one of the only young, female teachers at the school.
“Uh… she was?” he said, dreading where the conversation was going.
“Yeah,” said Amy. “Asking a lot of questions about how you were doing. She was your homeroom teacher, right?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate more than that, and he could tell that Amy could sense something was up.
“What?” She poked him in the shoulder. “You have to tell me! What is it?”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “She was… a good teacher.”
Cyrus moved down a row of desks, frowning as he looked over at the one he’d been sitting on that morning. It was after school, and he hadn’t realized that he’d forgotten his jacket in homeroom until the end of lunch. His fourth and fifth period teachers had not been kind enough to let him head down to Ms. White’s room, so here was, attempting grab it at the last minute.
“Looking for something, Cyrus?”
Ms. White stepped out of her back o
ffice, frowning slightly as she watched him. She’d been Cyrus’s neighbor for a while after she and her family, Amy included, had moved into Weston, but she’d found her own place shortly before accepting a permanent teaching job at the beginning of the year.
She was a pretty woman, but not quite outright attractive. Her hair was dark brown and while her face was quite cute, her body lacked the breasts and butt that even some of the younger high school girls were already developing.
“Uh, yeah,” said Cyrus. “Sorry, Ms. White. I forgot my jacket here in homeroom this morning.”
Ms. White’s eyes were probably her most intense feature, two greyish blue pools that were more expressive than most people in their entirety. They looked somewhat amused, and a sinking feeling came over Cyrus as Ms. White turned and walked over to the door of the classroom, closing it and locking it.
“Is it your jacket that you’re worried about, or what I found in the pocket of it?” asked Ms. White.
Cyrus’s heart sank. The weed in his jacket wasn’t bought and payed for. It was the property of his dealer, Jackson, an older twenty something who had no qualms about taking physical retribution when his product came up missing.
“Ms. White, I don’t know what-”
“Don’t bullshit me, Cyrus,” she said. “I could smell it before you’d even left homeroom.”
She was wearing a white blouse, the top button undone just enough to reveal a slice of her cleavage. The black skirt that went with it was tight around her hips. It was the most flattering outfit Cyrus had ever seen her in, and it reminded him that it was still pretty common for the older boys at his high school to talk about the things they’d like to do to her, if they got the chance.
“It’s… not mine,” said Cyrus. It was the truth, in a manner of speaking, but it was clear enough from Ms. White’s expression that she wasn’t buying it.
“Cyrus, this isn’t like you,” she said, walking toward him. “I read one of your English reflection essays, remember? The one about what it means to be a man, responsibility, taking positive action?”
Cyrus remembered. He’d written it shortly after the first time his mom had disappeared and left him to fend for himself in the house for a week. He remembered it almost to the word.
“I don’t want to see you go down a bad path, Cyrus.” Ms. White was standing right in front of him now, and she let one of her hands settle on his shoulder. “Is there any reason why I shouldn’t call the main office right now and let them know about this?”
Cyrus had a plan, albeit a very flimsy one. Throughout the year, Ms. White had been borderline flirtatious with all of the male seniors, or at least all of the ones that were old enough to be over 18.
He’d always just taken it as a quirk of her personality, the way her hand would linger on his when passing him something, the winks, the suggestive phrasing. But it was the only thing that he had now, other than begging and pleading, that he could leverage to his advantage.
“Ms. White,” he said, gathering his courage. “I think there’s a very good reason why the two of us should keep this as our little secret.”
He took a small step forward, putting himself inches away from being pressed directly against her. Ms. White’s expression flashed with surprise, and then something else.
“What are you doing, Cyrus?” she said, her voice unconcerned.
“You locked me in your classroom with you,” he said. “What’s that going to look like to the eyes of the principal, or the superintendent?”
Ms. White scowled at him.
“I-”
Cyrus leaned in and kissed her, pulling her body tight against his and feeling an unexpected flash of hot desire as their lips met. He was no Casanova. Technically, he was still a virgin, having only made out and fooled around on the lower bases with the girls he’d dated throughout his high school career.
But Cyrus had no intention of giving up and letting his life fall apart because of the well-meaning intentions of a teacher who’d never known a day of real adversity in her life. He risked it all on a gamble, knowing that the flirty narrative around Ms. White was just as primed for a scandal as his own reputation as the guy who knew where to find certain things.
He pulled back from the kiss, half expecting Ms. White to slap him immediately. She was blushing slightly, and it took her a moment to recover her composure enough to speak.
“This… is insane.” She shook her head.
“The door is already locked.” Cyrus leaned his lips into her neck, kissing her and noticing that he was also already hard. Ms. White’s body was receptive, even as her eyes continued to cycle through a range of complicated emotions.
“You… I can’t believe you,” she whispered.
“We could always just talk more about things,” said Cyrus. “In your back office.”
Every homeroom teacher had a back office, a small, private room that they used to keep their papers and personal things. Ms. White’s was only a few steps away, right behind the teacher’s desk. Cyrus took a step toward it and felt Ms. White relent, walking just in front of him, holding one of his hands and leading him forward.
“I…” She was blushing, and looked as though she couldn’t decide whether to smile or to glare at him. “Just… come on.”
They stepped inside her office. Cyrus closed the door and locked it, immediately turning back to face Ms. White. She took a seat on top of her desk, crossing her legs in that suggestive, seductive way that only a minority of women ever truly perfect.
It was like erotic magnetism was pulling him toward her. He kissed her, feeling himself doubting whether or not the decision to seduce had really been his in the first place. Ms. White cupped his cheek and pushed her tongue into his mouth, taking his hand and leading it to her breasts.
Cyrus had never been so turned on before in his life, but at the same time, he felt suddenly intimidated and overwhelmed by the situation. Ms. White seemed to sense his hesitation, pushing him back slightly and making a show of unbuttoning her blouse.
“Mr. Smith,” she said. “Are you a virgin?”
Cyrus didn’t answer her, but apparently, that was answer enough. Ms. White stopped fiddling with her blouse, smiling coyly as she slipped off the desk and pressed herself against him.
“Maybe I read you wrong?” said Ms. White. “You seemed so assertive before. I thought you were the type of guy who knew what it meant to be a-“
He cut her off in midsentence with a kiss, suddenly motivated by his volatile teenage hormones and knowledge of the fragility of the situation. Ms. White responded eagerly, and even more so as he pushed her back against the desk, turning her around and pulling her butt against his hard bulge.
“Oh, Cyrus…” She let out a small moan as he ran his hands across her breasts and then slipped them under her skirt. “You’re… a very fast learner.”
“And you’re a very slutty teacher,” Cyrus whispered, letting his fingers glide across her already wet panties. Ms. White practically fluttered against him, entranced by the heat of the encounter. He pulled her panties down and quickly unzipped his jeans, freeing his cock from the confines of his boxers and sliding up her skirt.
“Oh, whoa…” Ms. White ground herself against him, but her voice was suddenly hesitant. “You should get a… a condom.”
“Really, Ms. White?” Cyrus felt a sudden, sadistic thrill as he pushed the head of his cock against her hot, wet cunt.
“It will only take a second,” she whispered, almost pleading. “I have one in my… Oh, god!”
Cyrus thrust forward a little, feeling as though he was taking revenge for the way she’d played him with his jacket. Ms. White’s body practically pulsated in ecstasy. She arched her back and leaned her head into his shoulder, at the mercy of his cock.
“Ms. White,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you and fill you up at the end, like the dirty slut you are. How does that make you feel?”
“Oh god!”
Cyrus couldn’t stop himself fr
om grinning as he pushed a little deeper into her. Was it really this easy? The encounter had spiraled out of both of their control so quickly, and it seemed as though the further he pushed it, the more gasoline he threw on the fire, the more he had her wrapped around his finger.
He unbuttoned her blouse further and pulled her bra down, pleasantly surprised by the size of her breasts as he exposed them to the open air. Cyrus tweaked one of her nipples, eliciting another shocked and borderline offended gasp, and then began to slide himself in and out of her.
Ms. White made tiny, whimpering noises, clearly working hard to keep from screaming in pleasure. Cyrus, as well, found that he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning and losing himself in the moment. It was his first time, and he felt like he was nailing it as much as he was nailing her. It felt good, empowering, and so very, very dirty.
“Ms. White?” A voice came from outside both the office classroom doors, followed by heavy knocking. “We need to get into your classroom to finish cleaning for the afternoon.”
Cyrus hesitated, holding himself back from his next thrust as the janitor’s knocking continued. He kept his cock in Ms. White as his teacher tried to compose herself enough to properly respond.
“I… I’m sorry,” called Ms. White. “I’m giving a student… some extra tutoring.”
Cyrus thrust into her, kissing her neck and groping her breasts. Ms. White let out a quiet whimper and tried to slap his hands away.
“There are other places you can go,” called the janitor. “We’re already finished with the library and most of the classrooms on the first floor.”
“Nooo…” Ms. White called back. “We… need to do it here. And… right now.”
Cyrus began pumping into her a little faster, a thrill going through him at the risk he was taking. The desk shifted slightly, scraping against the tile floor.
“Are you okay in there, Ms. White?” asked the janitor. “Is something going on?”
“Nothing is… going on.” Ms. White’s voice came out in pulsating bursts, dripping with sex and pleasure. “I’m busy in here right now!”
Survival Island: Last Man Standing Page 4
