Survival Island: Last Man Standing

by Anya Merchant

  Maybe it could take down a person, he thought. But could it take down whatever we’re up against?

  With Candace gone, and Amy and Aiden sharing a sleeping mat, there was still one left over for Cyrus to take for himself. He dragged it south of the fire, on the opposite side from where Tamyra had set up, and then sat down.

  Time passed slowly. Cyrus had to work to stay awake for the first few minutes, but he soon fell into an alert, contemplative state. He thought about better times, about life back home, about all the food he’d eat when he’d get back. Strangely, he found himself thinking about internet porn, and then almost immediately felt foolish for letting his mind linger on such trivialities.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  Cyrus jerked forward, gripping his extinguished torch. Maggie had managed to sneak over to him without making any noise, her arms crossed, sundress making her look angelic in the moonlight.

  “Oh… it’s just you,” he said. “Nothing much. Stupid things.”

  Maggie sat down on the leaf mat next to him.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” She smiled at him.

  “My thoughts have been weird since we crashed on this island.”

  “So have mine.” Maggie’s eyes lingered on his. She was so pretty, so perfect in that awesome way that only an attractive older girl can pull off. She was beautiful and full of wisdom and secrets, with a capacity for empathy that seemed to span the whole world.

  “Maggie…” Cyrus whispered.

  He felt like he should bring up Darius, and say something else to comfort her, but one look in Maggie’s eyes told him that it would be the opposite of what she needed. She was looking at him, not Darius’s younger brother. He wanted to kiss her, and he wanted to die for wanting it.

  “I’m here, Cyrus,” she whispered, taking his hand. “Right here.”

  The sound of the waves was the only background noise as Cyrus slipped forward, pushing his lips against Maggie’s. She kissed him back, hesitantly at first, as though she had her own deep set hang ups, and then growing in intensity.

  The rest of the survivors were asleep, except for Tamyra, who was far enough away from them to be all but out of sight. Cyrus and Maggie descended to the sleeping mat together, their kisses blending together into a storm of illicit desire and passion.

  How long has this been building for? Since we washed up here? Before that?

  He ran his hand across Maggie’s breasts, feeling their perfect shape and size. She ground herself into him eagerly, her hands running through his hair. Cyrus kissed her again, and then felt her suddenly tense.

  “What are we doing?” she whispered. “I… What am I doing?”

  “Maggie, it’s okay,” said Cyrus. Even as he spoke the words, he began to doubt himself.

  Is it okay?

  “I’m sorry,” said Maggie. “We’re both emotional right now. We’re just… reacting to it, in strange ways.”

  “Maggie…” Cyrus leaned in to kiss her again, to pull her back into what had been so close to happening. She turned and offered him her cheek instead.

  “It doesn’t matter how we feel,” she whispered. “Right now it just… wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  Has my love life ever been appropriate?

  Krysta kissed the crotch of Cyrus’s jeans and began to unzip them with quick, eager movements. It was always like this with her. Cyrus had spent a naïve week or two thinking that she cared about him, cared for him, before realizing that the only time she texted back was directly before or during a molly binge, when she needed a warm body to play with.

  For the most part, he didn’t care so much. Krysta’s amazing tits did wonders to alleviate any concerns he might have had. She was quiet in a flirtatious way, straight to the point when she came over, and very good at sex, which was especially helpful given Cyrus’s limited pool of experience.

  “You have such a nice cock…” whispered Krysta as she freed it from the confines of his boxers. “So hard… so fun.”

  Cyrus rolled his eyes at her and gasped slightly as she began to lick and kiss the head of his erection. He leaned back on his bed and closed his eyes. Krysta had made a point of teaching him to, at least occasionally, be selfish as a lover. He wanted this to be one of those times.

  Her mouth was like nothing else. She knew how to create a tight seal with her lips. She would work her tongue and saliva into the process, creating a sticky, wet hot wash inside of her dirty, slutty cheeks.

  Cyrus ran a hand through her reddish blonde hair, savoring the sensation of her bobbing her head up and down. She never seemed to get tired, though he suspected her drug use might have something to do with that. And she seemed to love the taste of his cum, always making comments about how young and innocent and kind he was, feeding his ego like a good girl.

  He was just beginning to let out slow, regular moans when a sound came from the front door of the house. Cyrus bolted upright. Krysta didn’t stop sucking, only flashing a quick wink at him and then slipping under the sheets. He hurried to pull them over her relatively small form. There was still an odd lump jutting out on the side of his body, but he shifted a pillow and made it look as though it was just a messy bed.

  Laura Smith, the absentee matriarch of the Smith family and Cyrus’s mother, walked down the hallway and by Cyrus’s door. She’d been around a lot lately, pretty much every day, and on top of that, she’d been sober.

  Cyrus had been expecting Darius, or maybe even Peter or one of his friends, if anyone at all. He leaned his head back against the pillow and cringed internally, giving Krysta another frantic tap on the back of the head through the sheets. She didn’t stop sucking, and anything Cyrus could have done to force her off him would have only led to another awkward end result.

  “Hey honey,” called his mother. “Is there anything specific you want for dinner? I was going to go grocery shopping, since we’re out of bread.”

  “I, uh…” Cyrus took a deep breath as Krysta’s tongue swirled over the head of his cock. “Anything’s fine!”

  “Are you okay?” Laura walked into the door of his room, frowning at him. “You sound a little under the weather.”

  “Fine!” Cyrus shifted the sheets a little more, trying to hide the subtle movements as Krysta bobbed her hot mouth up and down his hard cock. “Just tired, you know.”

  “Right.” Laura smiled at him. She was an attractive woman, though she was in her mid-forties and clearly tired of dressing up for people. “I know how weird this all must be for you, Cyrus.”

  Krysta gave his shaft a long lick, leading into a kiss on the head of his cock. Cyrus was making eye contact with his mother for the duration of it, blushing and fully expecting to die of internal shame.

  Laura had brown hair with loose curls to it, along with pale skin and a petite frame. She wore a simple outfit of jeans and a white blouse, along with a set of librarian glasses over her brown doe eyes. She looked nothing like the woman who’d abandoned him, several times over, to chase her own vices and shack up with random men. But she was, and Cyrus would have tried to keep that fact in mind if not for Krysta’s soft lips rubbing and pleasuring his aching cock.

  “It’s a little weird,” mumbled Cyrus.

  Laura smiled at him and walked over to the bed. She sat down on the other side of the bed from where Krysta was hidden, which was nothing short of a small miracle, and ran a hand through his hair. Krysta’s mouth was vibrating a little as she sucked, and Cyrus realized that she was laughing.

  “If there’s anything I can do to make it easier for you,” said Laura. “Just let me know. I want us to be a family again. To be close.”

  “Of course, mom,” said Cyrus. “I… I will.”

  Krysta was using her mouth and lips to their full effect, sucking and caressing and swirling her tongue over every inch of his sensitive erection. He was getting close. The idea of blowing a load with his mom sitting on his bed, literally inches away, her hand running through his hair, was absolutely sickening. />
  “So about dinner…” said Laura, smiling at him.

  “Mom!” Cyrus bit his lip and tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “Can we talk about this after?”

  “You want to come?” she asked.

  Cyrus stared at her, mouth slightly agape.

  “To the store with me?” she finished. “We can pick something out together.”

  Krysta was sucking faster and faster, so fast that the shifting of the sheets bordered on being obvious. Her tongue was doing all the right things, all the wrong things, at that moment. Cyrus wanted to scream.

  “Nooo...” He said, his breath leaving with the last of his resolve. Krysta took his cock deep just as he began to bust, string after string of hot, sticky cum shooting against the back of her throat.

  “Alright, there’s no need to get out of your pants over it.” Laura flashed a wicked smile at him and walked to the door, taking the handle and hesitating before closing it. “One more thing, Cyrus?”

  “…Yeah.”

  “Tell Krysta I said hi,” said Laura. “She’s a friend of mine, from the bad days.”

  Cyrus clenched his eyes shut and slammed his head back on the pillow as the door closed, halfway to cringing himself into an early grave.

  CHAPTER 16

  Cyrus switched off with Peter once before the night was over, managing to get only a few hours of sleep outside of his watch. He was exhausted when he woke up next morning, and Peter looked just as bad, with bags under bloodshot eyes.

  “Morning,” muttered Cyrus. “How’d you, uh… sleep?”

  “Same as you, jackass,” said Peter.

  The rest of the survivors only looked marginally better rested, the events of the night having banished the idea of sleep out of more than a few heads. Cyrus tried to keep his mind active as he sat down around the smoldering coals of what was left of the fire, thinking about everything that needed doing that day.

  Candace’s remains need to be taken care of, he thought. And we still haven’t given any thought to the rest of the bodies from the crash.

  “Morning.” Amy plopped down next to him, wearing her jean shorts, but having abandoned her shirt in favor of just the bikini top. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine,” he managed. “A little tired. Wish I had some coffee.”

  “I wish I had a lot of things,” said Amy.

  Cyrus slowly ran his eyes over the rest of the survivors. There were so few of them. There hadn’t been that many to start, but losing Candace made it painfully clear just how small of a group they really were. They needed each other.

  “Last night…” said Amy. “Were you talking to Maggie?”

  Cyrus frowned at her, glancing over to where Maggie sat with Kyoko, the two of them engaged in quiet conversation.

  “Yeah, for a bit,” he said. “Does it matter?”

  Amy stared at him, her expression mostly unreadable.

  “Amy,” he continued. “We’re under attack. Candace died last night. Who the fuck cares who I’m talking to, or what I’m doing?”

  She flinched back, and Cyrus immediately knew that he’d let his crankiness get the best of him. The glare Amy shot him in return was more hurt than angry, and she shook her head slowly.

  “You can do whatever you want, Cyrus,” she said, in a tight voice. “But just because the situation is bad doesn’t mean I stop existing.”

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  Amy had already stood up and walked over to where Aiden sat with Tamyra on the other side of the fire. Cyrus swore under his breath, looking up at Peter, who’d made his way back over.

  “Hey buddy,” said Peter. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  Cyrus nodded, and the two walked a couple of feet down the beach.

  “I know,” said Cyrus. “We’re going to have to lead everyone forward. After last night… everybody is going to be on edge and near their limits.”

  Peter nodded.

  “So you agree, then?” he said. “About the raft?”

  Cyrus hadn’t actually given it much thought over the night. Now that they knew that they weren’t alone on the island, that they’d be surviving against both the elements and whatever creatures had killed Candace, the idea of making a desperate escape on a raft seemed slightly less crazy.

  “I still don’t know, Peter,” said Cyrus. “It’s not like the open ocean doesn’t have dangers of its own.”

  “Do you honestly think we can fight whatever killed her?” asked Peter. “I saw the look on your face last night. We all heard the noises they made. They’ll eat us, if we stay here.”

  “…Maybe.” Cyrus chewed his lip and looked toward the jungle. The island didn’t seem big enough to support large predators. He felt like he was missing something, as though there was another piece to the puzzle hidden under the box.

  “We need to put all of our effort into building the raft,” said Peter.

  “Peter, it isn’t going to be possible to get everyone off the island on it,” said Cyrus. “Not the size it is now. Probably not at any size. There’s seven of us, think about how much food and water we’d need to survive even just a week at sea.”

  “I know.” Peter looked from side to side a little conspiratorially. “That’s why I think it should just be me, you, and Amy on the raft.”

  Cyrus immediately shook her head.

  “I’m not leaving people behind,” he said. “Absolutely not.”

  “Cyrus, be reasonable. Once we reach Fiji, or wherever, we can send help back.”

  “You can send help back, Peter. I’m not leaving this island until everyone else is safe and sound.”

  Peter met Cyrus’s eyes, staring into him as though it was the first time he’d really seen his friend. After a second or two, he shrugged.

  “Whatever, man,” said Peter. “I’m trying to save everybody, you understand that, right? I’m not running away from anything.”

  “I never said you were.” Cyrus crossed his arms and frowned. “Look, see if anyone else is interested in helping out with the raft today. We still need to take care of our basic needs, but I’m sure we can spare at least one or two people on getting the thing done.”

  “That’s what I was planning on doing. We should announce it together.”

  “Alright.”

  They walked back to the beach camp together, standing side by side, but with a distance in between them. Most of the survivors had been watching them talk, and immediately perked up on their return.

  “Last night was scary,” said Peter. “I know. And Candace… it’s not fair that she isn’t with us anymore. But we have to keep surviving.”

  “From now on, nobody is allowed to go out into the jungle alone,” said Cyrus. “The buddy system will be used at all times. Try to head out in groups of two, even three if you can. Nobody even takes a bathroom break on their own.”

  “And getting the raft done is now our top priority.” Peter gestured with his finger in the direction of it as he spoke. “Anybody who wants to help, group up with me.”

  The survivors were silent. Nobody even whispered. The moment stretched out for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Maggie raised her hand.

  “The raft won’t carry all of us,” she said, echoing Cyrus’s sentiment. “Shouldn’t we do something else in the meantime, so that we have a chance of making it through the next few night?”

  “I’ll handle that,” said Cyrus. “We can make basic weapons, and more torches. It’s not impossible for us to hold our own against these animals if we fight smart.”

  He made a deliberate decision to use the word animals, trying to downplay the threat of whatever creatures had devoured Candace the night before. Letting his own fear color his plan of action would help no one.

  “I can help fight,” said Tamyra. “I can teach people, too.”

  “I’ll need you helping me with the raft,” overruled Peter.

  Cyrus shrugged, not wanting to make an issue of who spent the day doing what. Instea
d, he smiled at the rest of the girls, putting on the bravest face he had at his disposal.

  “We’re going to make it through this,” he said. “It’s going to be hard, but we are strong enough to survive. I refuse to let any more people die on my watch.”

  They spent another minute around the beach camp, mostly discussing the basics of collecting food and water for the day. Peter and Tamyra headed off to get started on the raft. Maggie took the initiative in talking to Kyoko, Aiden, and Amy, and the four of them resolved to make an attempt at building a simple fence around their campsite.

  At the very least, it will give advance warning if any of the creatures try to sneak up on us, he thought.

  Cyrus broke away from the group, violating the new rule he’d only just finished laying out for them and heading down the beach on his own. He was not thrilled about what he had to do, but knew that he had to be the one to do it.

  Candace’s scant remains were right where he’d seen them the night before, with the addition of a small cloud of buzzing black flies. Cyrus found a couple of thick leaves and used them as a guard between his hands and her bloody body as he moved her out of the jungle and into the water.

  He repeated the same process he’d used for Darius’s body, heading out until the water was deep enough to have some semblance of current, and then letting it go. He hadn’t known Candace that well and didn’t know how to feel about her death, beyond just plain sad.

  Cyrus washed his hands off in the salty water and headed back to join up with the others. The girls were already collecting wood for their construction, heading into the jungle as a group of four and dragging tree trunks and branches out onto the sand. Cyrus frowned, wondering if it was something that stood any chance of working against the beasts.

  “It’s better than not trying anything,” said Maggie, reading his expression.

  “I guess.” Cyrus smiled at her. He noticed Amy watching the two of them over Maggie’s shoulder and tried to ignore it. The last thing he needed, on top of an existential threat to their survival, was girl drama.