Survival Island: Last Man Standing

by Anya Merchant

  “I climbed the rock mound.” Cyrus shrugged. “Why does it matter to you?”

  He knew exactly why it mattered to Amy, and why everything involving her and him had snowballed into a dramatic, emotional mess. Cyrus knew that he was being a bit cruel with his dismissiveness, but Amy was already doing her own part to create friction between the survivors.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” asked Amy. “Alone?”

  Cyrus looked over at Maggie, who smiled and took a step back.

  “Oh, please, don’t mind me,” she said, sincerely. “I’ll go hang out with Kyoko.”

  She stepped across the sand toward the camp, and Cyrus turned to walk a short distance back down the beach, so he and Amy could have some privacy. She followed a pace or two behind him, giving him the feeling of being followed by a cop, or a guard.

  “You climbed the rock mound?” asked Amy. “That’s all you and her did today? Nothing else?”

  Cyrus gritted his teeth. He didn’t understand why her insinuations made him so angry, but they did.

  I don’t owe her anything.

  “What are you asking me, Amy?” he asked. “And why the hell do you think it’s any of your business?”

  Amy glared at him, the expression sharp and unfitting for her pretty face.

  “You know what I’m asking Cyrus,” she said. “Are the two of you fucking?”

  That, at least, he knew he could answer honestly.

  “No,” said Cyrus. “But would it matter if we were? Amy, you’re not my girlfriend.”

  Amy set her hands on her hips, looking flustered.

  “I… I know that!” she stammered.

  “Then why do you care? Why make any of this into your business?”

  Amy looked away from him, directing her gaze out toward the ocean. She’d always been the kind of girl that seemed to have it all together, at least on the surface. Underneath, she was more like Cyrus than anyone he’d ever known.

  Is that why nothing ever happened between us? Are we both just too broken?

  “If you lie to me Cyrus,” whispered Amy. “If you try to keep something secret…”

  “You know about secrets better than I do, Amy,” he said. There was nothing else he could have said that would have cut her deeper.

  “Cyrus! Over here!”

  Cyrus glanced up and down the road nervously before crossing and hurrying over to where Krysta stood on the sidewalk. Behind her, adorned with a neon orange sign depicting a martini with a woman in it, was Heaven’s Gallery, Weston’s only strip club.

  He hadn’t seen Krysta in almost a month, since she’d stopped returning his texts and calls out of the blue. It hadn’t been too much of a disappointment to Cyrus, and when she’d gotten back in touch with him to ask if he could score a bag of weed for her and her new boyfriend, a bouncer at the strip club, she’d said, he’d set any remaining feelings he’d had aside for the sake of earning more money toward rent.

  “Krysta,” he said. “Hey. Good to see you.”

  She smiled wickedly at him.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Cyrus,” said Krysta. “I have my car with me. We could… talk… for a bit, before heading in to get the money from Brent.”

  She looked worse for wear, as though she’d aged a year or two in the month they’d been apart. But still, seeing her brought back memories of all the dirty things she was capable of. It took most of Cyrus’s willpower to shake his head no.

  “I don’t really have the time,” he said. “Let’s just head on in.”

  Cyrus, being only 18, had never been inside the club before. Krysta seemed to be familiar with the man working the door, who waved them both through without a second glance.

  The main room looked dingy, bordering on disgusting. Several leather couches and chairs sat along the walls. A bar ran across the left side of the room, with a fat, bored looking man standing behind it, polishing glasses.

  The stage in the center of the room had a small curtain leading to the back, along with a spotlight overhead that seemed as though it could use a good cleaning. The woman onstage currently was barely average looking and marked with cellulite and stretch marks.

  “Hmmm…” said Krysta. “He doesn’t seem to be here yet. Do you mind hanging out for a minute?”

  “Uh…” Cyrus did mind, but he needed the money. He shrugged and tried not to look like any of the regulars, the men who sat along the stage with their drinks in one hand and money in the other.

  “Alright, next we have our new fan favorite,” boomed the stage’s announcer. “She’s just doing this to pay for college, really, folks.”

  A round of drunken laughter swept through the room.

  “Introducing… Busty Blue!”

  A girl walked out on stage, dressed in a tiny schoolgirl outfit, her breasts nearly bursting out of the tiny top, and the skirt so short that Cyrus suspected the men closest to the stage were already looking underneath it. She had a fake smile on her face and shifted it into a tantalizing pout as she set one hand on the pole and began slide herself against it.

  She had on a dark blue wig along with matching lipstick and eye makeup, but Cyrus still recognized her immediately. It was Amy, the girl next door, the sweet, aloof treasure of Weston High. He watched in disbelief as she undid the top button of her blouse, revealing more cleavage and shaking it for the men of the crowd, who let out a roar of approval.

  “Do you like what you see?” asked Krysta. “She’s one of the new girls. Still isn’t entirely used to the game, yet.”

  Country pop music blared out of the speakers as Amy spun around the pole, leaning forward as she came around to the other side and flashing her panties at the crowd. A dozen different men were waving bills at the edge of the stage. Amy leaned herself back against one of them, squirming a little as he groped at her breasts, but accepting the money and sliding it into her panties with a slow, deliberate movement.

  She did a roll across the floor and stood back up, whipping the hair of her wig back and crossing her arms over her chest as she undid the last few buttons of her top. Cyrus wanted to make his presence more obvious, maybe even yell for her to stop. It was absurd, for her to be up there, in front of the sleaziest men in town, selling a glimpse of her body for money.

  The last button came undone, and Amy wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. The crowd cheered as her shirt dropped to the ground and her arms parted, revealing her big, beautiful breasts in all their glory. They were all natural, and the men around the stage all began to pull out more money, waving it at her, practically begging for a chance to cop a feel. Amy obliged one of them, though Cyrus could tell from the look on her face that it was part of the performance, rather than something she wanted.

  “Baby Blue!” shouted the announcer, ending the show. “She’s available for lap dances for the first time tonight, so if you’re interested… oh boy, looks like some of you definitely are.”

  One of the men had already helped Amy down off stage and plied her with a couple of big bills. He was tall, wearing a suit and tie, and had her sitting on his lap, groping her aggressively. Amy was blushing so deeply that it looked as though she was about to die of shame, averting her eyes from the man as he pinched her nipples, and whispered things in her ear.

  “What the hell?” Cyrus turned to Krysta. “Are the bounders going to let this happen?”

  “It’s Weston,” said Krysta, with a shrug. “Stuff like this happens all the time here.”

  When Cyrus turned back to look at the man, he almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The man had unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out, which was hard and ready to go. Amy was wiggling on his lap, trying to close her thighs. The man was clearly preparing to fuck her, right there in the open.

  Cyrus stomped over and pulled Amy off him, disregarding the voice in the back of his head that screamed for him to stay out of it. Amy let out a small gasp of surprise. The man tried to cover himself and stand up. Cyrus kicked his chair over, knocking him into an
embarrassing sprawl on the ground.

  “Hey!” One of the bouncers seemed to have decided to do his job, and stomped over to where Cyrus stood protectively in front of Amy. Cyrus spotted a fire exit and pushed Amy’s shirt back into her hands.

  “Cyrus, what the fuck?” yelled Krysta. He ignored her, pulling Amy after him out into the alley that ran along the strip club’s side. She pulled her shirt on, her face bright red, eyes averted.

  Cyrus pulled her along with him, not stopping until they were sitting in the mostly abandoned park across the street, on a bench underneath a street light. He sat, looking at the grass and waiting for Amy’s reaction.

  “…Thank you,” she said, after what felt like an eternity.

  “Amy.” Cyrus shook his head and looked at her, unsure of what to say. “Uh… are you okay?”

  She’d taken the wig off, but the tiny school girl outfit still looked ridiculously hot on her, and it was hard for him not to stare.

  “You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this,” she said. “If you do, I’ll tell people that you only saw me because you were there!”

  “Relax, I’m not going to tell anyone,” said Cyrus. “I have my own secrets to deal with.”

  Amy watched him for another second, searching for his sincerity. She bit her lip and glanced away. When she looked back at him, there were tears in her eyes.

  “I… I didn’t choose to work there,” she whispered. “There was this modelling I found online. I thought it was legit, but the photographer, he… he tricked me.”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  “I do!” she countered. “The guy kept asking me to take off more and more clothes. He was so nice, and it wasn’t until I was totally naked that I realized how fucked up the situation was.”

  Cyrus put an arm around her shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  “It’s not okay!” said Amy. “He’s threatening to show the photos to my family if I don’t work in his stupid strip club! I hate the people there! I hate the way they look at me, and the… things they do.”

  Cyrus felt a stab of shame as he thought about how he’d been drooling over her during her dance on stage. He squeezed her shoulder, knowing that he couldn’t just leave her on her own, at the mercy of a blackmailer.

  “I’ll help you,” he said. “We can figure something out…”

  “What could you possibly do to help?”

  Cyrus smiled.

  “Whatever needs to be done.”

  “Fuck you, Cyrus,” said Amy. “You’re not some high and mighty saint yourself.”

  “Amy,” he said, biting back his anger. “Don’t be like this.”

  “She’s your dead brother’s girlfriend!” shouted Amy. “You’re running around with her like it’s no big deal. Have you wanted her this entire time? Since before we even-“

  “Shut up!” Cyrus felt something twist inside of him. “Don’t… don’t say another word, Amy.”

  She glared at him, but went silent. Cyrus wanted to shout at her, to give his anger focus and form, but he couldn’t do it.

  She might be right.

  He turned and started walking away from her, back toward the camp. Cyrus heard Amy say something else, but he wasn’t listening. He was tired.

  CHAPTER 20

  Peter was gathering the rest of the survivors when Cyrus arrived back at camp. He had a grin on his face, and Tamyra looked similarly pleased, standing next to him.

  “We’ve made serious progress today on Hope,” he said. “That’s the name we’ve chosen for the raft, remember? It’s within a day or two of being serviceable.”

  “Nice, Pete,” said Cyrus. “That’s… good to here.”

  He smiled, though his doubts were still salient in the back of his mind. After seeing the horizon from atop the rock mound, it was harder than ever for him to imagine a makeshift raft being able to make it the distance to inhabited land. Cyrus couldn’t even guess at which direction would be best to set out in.

  “Amy?” Peter looked over Cyrus to her, his face expectant. “What do you think? You should claim your spot now if you’re interested in being one of the first back to civilization.”

  “I don’t care about the stupid raft, Pete,” snapped Amy. “It’s not going to do anything for us, okay?”

  Peter frowned and shook his head.

  “It’s the only shot we have,” he said. “Unless you have a better plan?”

  “I do.” Amy gestured all around them. “We wait. And trust that eventually, we’ll be found.”

  Peter scowled at her, looking a little embarrassed at having her contradict him so openly. Cyrus cleared his throat and tried to change the subject.

  “We should probably get started on the fire, and dinner,” he said. “And we need to talk about what we’re going to do tonight if those… things, come back.”

  “Exactly!” snapped Peter. “And that’s why we need to get off this island! This isn’t a safe place for us?”

  “Oh, but the open ocean is?” Amy laughed. “You’re trying to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire. Don’t be stupid.”

  Her words seemed to hit Peter like a slap in the face. His cheeks turned bright crimson, and he opened his mouth as though to say something else, before closing it again and looking away.

  “Let’s just drop it for now,” said Cyrus. “Peter, I’ll take a look at the raft.”

  Peter nodded, though the expression on his face still looked sensitive and hurt. He led Cyrus in the other direction down the beach, around the bend, and to his creation.

  The raft was still barebones, with no canopy or shelter to block the elements. The only thing on it aside from the wood it was made of was a medium sized wooden barrel at the center.

  “The water barrel washed ashore earlier today,” he said. “Tamyra and I tested it out. It holds water without leaking.”

  Even with that, an essential addition for any expedition out to sea, Cyrus still felt doubtful. He looked over at Peter and shrugged, unsure of whether keeping his skepticism to himself would do his friend any favors.

  “Peter,” he said. “I don’t know, man. I got a look at the horizon from on top of the rock mound today. There’s… nothing nearby.”

  “That’s why we need the raft,” said Peter, jabbing his finger at it. “I named it Hope, Cyrus. That’s what it is to us… hope.”

  Cyrus didn’t know what to say to that. He walked back to the camp alongside Peter in silence. The sunset was obscured slightly by clouds, which turned it into a vibrant mix of red, orange, and grey.

  Maggie and Tamyra were stacking wood for their nightly fire, while Amy, Aiden, and Kyoko huddled over something to the side. Cyrus walked over slowly, his mouth turning up into a grin when he saw what they had.

  “That’s a fish,” he said. “You caught a fucking fish.”

  “Not exactly.” Kyoko flashed an embarrassed smile. “It got stuck in one of the tide pool’s on the island’s south side and we sort of just… grabbed it.”

  “Fish is fish,” said Cyrus.

  “We’re not eating it tonight,” she said. “I know how tempting it would be, but we need to use it for bait. It’s not big enough for us all to get more than a mouthful each, anyway.”

  Cyrus’s stomach growled in rebellion, but Kyoko’s logic was sound. He thought of all the foods that he missed from back home. Fish wasn’t high up on the list, but the idea of having fresh, fire cooked fish to eat was compelling enough to make his mouth water.

  He focused on getting the fire started, using his lighter on tinder and wood prepared for him by the girls. It was more of a comfort than a necessity, as for the third night in a row, they had nothing to cook over it.

  Maggie took a try at preparing the food for the night, spicing up the usual coconut and red berry combination with a green, leafy vegetable that looked almost familiar to Cyrus.

  “It’s kale,” she said, before anyone could ask. “Wild kale. There’s a t
on of it around the freshwater lake. If I had the time, I’d replant the scraps and try farming it.”

  “If you had the time,” said Aiden. “It seems to me like we have nothing but time now.”

  The portions each of them received were small, but fairly divided between all of them. Hunger hadn’t been much of a threat directly after the crash and even for the first day or two, with everyone’s emotions so pumped up and volatile.

  But now, Cyrus could feel it. He knew it would only build into something more formidable, making them physically weak, distrustful of each other, and breaking them down. It was one more thing they had to worry about, along with the creature attacks, and all of the friends they’d already lost.

  “We have to talk about what we’re going to do tonight,” he said. “If the animals show up again.”

  “They didn’t exactly show up last night,” said Peter. “They found Candace, but who knows where she was when they attacked?”

  “They know that we’re here, Peter,” said Cyrus. “They’re clearly nocturnal, and they’ll get hungry, just like we do.”

  He popped the last of the fresh coconut on his leaf plate into his mouth and nibbled on his kale.

  “We can fight,” said Tamyra. Cyrus nodded.

  “We have a few heavy pieces of wood that will work as clubs,” he said. “We each will take one side of the camp as soon as night falls. We can leave the ocean side undefended.”

  “Cyrus…” Amy had slid next to him, and pulled gently on his shirt sleeve. “Can I… talk to you?”

  He frowned. The sun was nearly set, and in a minute, they’d be relying on only the fire and the stars to see their way.

  “Can it wait?” he asked. She shook her head.

  Cyrus stood up and glanced over the survivors around the campfire. Maggie was doing her best to look uninterested, but it was clear enough from her body language that she didn’t like the idea of him and Amy going off alone. Peter wore his emotions openly, confusion with a hint of jealousy mixed in.

  “We’ll be right back,” said Cyrus. He nodded to Amy, and the two of them started walking to a spot on the beach out of earshot.