The Island Chapter 2
Dirk's POV
A lot has happened in the past hour or so. Actually, it could've only been minutes. You don't know. All you really know is that a cute guy you just met was out hunting food for you on some island. Wait; did you just call him cute? Why would you think that? You most definitely do not think he's cute.
After standing by the door recounting events for a while, as well as looking at the tropical setting before you, you decide that it wouldn't hurt to explore Jake's house a little. I mean, he did drag you there in a crate. You turn and walk inside. The first thing you notice is that there's only one floor. No stairs are in sight. Also, the house appears to be only one room. On the right of you, there is a counter, a few old drawers, and a small basin half-full of water. To the left, there is a beat-up mattress that looks like it was washed up on the shore. It probably was. In front of you is a small, wooden table and two chairs. Next to the table is the crate you came out of. That's it. No bathroom or electricity. Only the door and a few windows to let in light. You walk over to a chair and take a seat, waiting for Jake's return. Instead of him walking in with a bucket of KFC, you hear him singing outside and have to actually stand to go see him. He stops singing when he sees you.
"'Ello, Strider! Come join me!" He says enthusiastically, Australian accent coating his words like honey. You see what he's doing and almost start laughing again, but you don't. He sits cross-legged by an open fire, cooking a small jungle animal of some kind on a stick. Next to him is a woven basket full of squirrel-sized creatures, all dead. Trying not to show how uncomfortable you are with this, you pick one up and stab a stick through its limp body, than begin to roast it over the fire.
Jake's POV
After killing all those animals like the manly man you are, you're glad that Dirk wasn't nervous about cooking with you. While you were out, you began to fear that normal people didn't usually roast dead things over a fire. Still, he shows no sign at all of being ill at ease. He just sits there silently, directly across from you. The silence grows long as the day turns to night.
"So, uh, if you don't mind me asking, how did you end up in a crate in the ocean?" You try to break the silence.
"Stow-away on a ship that sank. I was hiding in a crate in the storage room. You?" You look down. Suddenly, the ground is very interesting to you.
"I… I was in a plane crash," He looks directly at you.
"Were there other survivors?" He asks bluntly. You struggle to find an answer.
"N-no. Just me," you say, thinking of the others on that plane. Your grandmother was with you- right next to you- and yet you were the only one. She was gone. You feel tears well up behind the rims of your glasses and hope Dirk doesn't notice. He does notice.
"Sorry," he says, looking down. His shoulders stiffen, like he doesn't know if he should comfort you. You're glad he doesn't. You think that if he did, you'd cry harder. Once you get over your crying, you look up at him. You notice his head faces towards you, like he'd been watching you this whole time. You don't know for sure though, because sunglasses cover his eyes.
You both eat in silence.