A/N: I would also like to thanks my beta, Minch for once again doing a great job with editing this chapter. I don't own Gilligan's Island. Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.


Chapter Four

The Hunter That Couldn't Hunt Anymore

Gilligan awoke to the sounds of the waves coming from the turquoise ocean as they crashed down upon each other and topical birds screeching and cawing loudly in the palm trees. He could smell the saltiness of the water as it floated on a breeze coming in his direction. The first mate tasted lingering remains of the fruit he had consumed earlier and something else on his tongue. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to name the unpleasant taste left over in his mouth.

The answer came like a bolt of lightning in a severe thunderstorm, resulting in his eyes snapping open. Only for the young sailor to shut them tightly several seconds later because the golden yellow ball of heat blinded him. He waited a minute, the bright light slipping through his close eyelids before slowly opening them again, giving his eyes plenty of time to adjust.

A faint look of confusion appeared in the Castaway's eyes as a grimace of pain and nasty flavor remained on his slightly parted lips. He noticed the sun has risen a little in the cloudless blue sky, but couldn't remember glancing at it earlier. The former Navy sailor felt like he had "lost time" or something. He couldn't really explain it with words, it was just too difficult.

Gilligan did know he blacked out after he discovered his stomach wound. He didn't know how long he was out, though. But before he went unconscious, he puked up his food and water beside him, if the horrid smell and memory was correct. He also recalled pretty much everything else that happened earlier, besides the time lapse, of course.

A wince crawled up his slightly battered and bruised face. As sweat dripped into his cuts and eyes, a burning sensation emerged. Unfortunately, the first mate couldn't wipe all of the moisture away since the liquid appeared every few seconds and the repeated movement would tire him out fast. Furthermore, he didn't know if he had broken, dislocated, or just bruised his ribs. And how many ribs was it? So he didn't want to move around too much and risk a rib or two puncturing a lung or something equally as important. Most of the time, all he could do was blink his eyes several times in a rapid fashion and try to ignore the sharp stinging feeling.

The obviously injured Castaway swallowed hard as his gaze landed on the edge of the cliff above him. He didn't need to glance around to know he was alone, which bothered him greatly. He knew without a doubt that even if he wasn't badly injured, escaping from the ledge was still impossible. The former Navy sailor didn't have a rope and the distances upwards and downwards were just too far apart for him. Add his numerous injuries to the mix and you have a task that was completely impossible to achieve.

The first mate's thoughts raced wildly. How do I get out of here? I'm a few miles from camp and the others can't help me until they are free from jail, however long that might be.

His heart beat rapidly with fear; the fingers on his right hand touched the puddle of blood growing beside him and the rocky surface of the ledge that held him prisoner. Gilligan felt the hot pain that ran like shock waves up and down the length of his body. The young sailor was paralyzed with fear. Fear of what could possibly happen to him before he was found. A violent shiver raced down his body, causing him to gasp in agony. The involuntary reaction had forced his injured frame to move and set off the pain. Well, not really set off since the agonizing pain appeared every few seconds, but it did feel like the pain went up another level. The lone Castaway swallowed down the rising bile that collected in his mouth while his abdomen rocked like a stormy sea with nausea.

The first mate continued to pant, still struggling to take deep breaths. He knew one or two of his injuries were the cause of his shallow breathing along with the chest pain. The lone sailor had numerous injuries and symptoms to deal with. And frankly, he was surprised to see he wasn't in Heaven like he had thought he'd be when he woke up. Instead, he found himself still stuck on the ledge, badly injured, with no help of any kind available for who knew how long. The youngest Castaway had a wristwatch on him and could check the time. Unfortunately, his watch was on his right wrist and broken, the glass smashed on impact and mingled with the red substance and puke. The parts were scattered and lost. So glancing at his watch was out of the question. Plus, he wasn't even sure he could look, what with his dislocated shoulder and all.

A substance of some sort caught the former Navy sailor's attention when it dropped from somewhere above him and landed on his shirt-covered abdomen. The substance mixed with the sticky blood that continued to seep out of him. Another droplet of whatever it was landed on him. Then another came, and another, and another. The droplets of substance were constant, always appearing thirty seconds, and from the same direction, somewhere above him.

As more droplets rained down upon the first mate, he strained his eyes to get a better look and decipher what the substance was. At the moment, Gilligan just knew it was fluid and red.

A low groan was heard close to him, but the young sailor couldn't figure out where. He knew the sound was nearby since he could hear it perfectly, like the noise was right next to him or above him.

Silence surrounded the Castaway then. Well, almost silence since he could still hear the sounds of the ocean and animals. However, the quietness was completely shattered about a minute later with a slightly louder moan filled with pain. A wave of confusion washed over the first mate after hearing the agony in the sound and observing another droplet of red fluid falling on his stomach.

This time, the sailor traced the path of the droplet with his blue eyes, beginning with his stomach before going upward. Up, up, up, his eyes went as more of the unknown droplets went past him. As the sun shone in his eyes and his head almost completely straight, the youngest Castaway found the source of the droplets.

The sight he came upon wasn't pretty, causing the nausea to rise inside him, crawling up his throat.

A branch hung twenty feet above him on the side of the rocky cliff, no leaves were on it. And appearance-wise, the branch looked to be dead, probably for a while now. Hanging over that branch was a monster. The being was a monster because he was too evil and twisted to be considered a man, a human being. This was the same monster that had hunted and tormented him for the past eighteen hours.

Kincaid.

His tormentor's body hung in front of Gilligan and only a few feet away. Because the hunter wasn't hanging directly above the first mate, he was unaware of the additional presence, especially when he stared at the brightly lit sky.

The former Navy sailor couldn't tell since he was at an angle, but from the amount of blood falling from the hunter's form and the discoloration of his skin, Gillian suspected a limb on the branch had pierced his tormentor's flesh on impact and hit something vitally important.

Instead of the hunter killing his prey in cold blood, it happened to be him that would end up dead.

It was ironic, really. Or would you call it karma?

Either way, Jonathan Lee Kincaid would never be able to hurt him, his family, or anyone else again. While Gilligan wasn't happy that the hunter was dying, (he was certain of the fact since Kincaid was losing a ton of blood) he was greatly relieved that another innocent person wouldn't have to be in his shoes, forced to be a part of this twisted and sinister little game.

The droplets of blood brought the first mate's attention back to the situation at hand. He now knew what the substance was and where it was coming from. The young sailor's eyes widened in horror and disgust at the realization of just where that blood was landing. He didn't want the filth that was Kincaid's blood mixing with his or even coming in contact with his body.

The thought barely crossed the young man's mind when he once again turned his head to the right and vomited. This time, only a small amount of bile came out since Gilligan didn't have a lot of food inside him. The unwelcome action forced his broken and injured form to shake with the tremors and the dry heaving, causing more burning pain to slice through his chest.

A creaking noise emerged, floating in the air.

But the youngest Castaway was too busy gasping breathlessly while his figure rocked with shivers and pain, heart beating at a swift pace.

A loud cracking noise hovered in the air above him, but the first mate was still distracted, once again fighting against the blurriness that appeared in his vision and the overwhelming feeling to faint.

Another loud cracking noise was heard, followed by a snapping sound. A sound of a heavy body connected with another rose in the air followed by a heartbreaking scream.

"AGH!" the former Navy sailor screamed out in pain as Kincaid fell on him, slamming into his many injuries. Blinded with agonizing pain and fright, he used his good leg and the minimum amount of body movement to shift the hunter off of him, causing his tormentor to turn and disappeared from the first mate's sight, falling once again. The gun, which was resting on the lip of the ledge, was right behind Kincaid as one of his lower body parts accidently hit it while falling for the second time.

Several seconds later, a loud thud and the sound of bones breaking was heard, informing the young sailor that his tormentor had made direct contact with the sandy ground below. The lone Castaway didn't know the exact distance he was from the ground, but knew without a doubt that the impact had most likely killed Kincaid.

At least now the hunter's filthy blood wasn't dripping on him anymore. And the monster could no longer haunt the young man with his presence either.

Gilligan laid his head back down and stared aimlessly at the sky, waiting for the other Castaways to come look for him.


Thirty minutes later

(6 hours and 15 minutes left)

"Skipper? Anyone? Help!" Gilligan called out as loudly as he could, which wasn't in the deafening category with the volume that emerged from him. It was no surprise to the first mate though. How could a person be loud enough for someone to hear him when the caller had a difficult time breathing correctly?

The lone Castaway tried to be patience for help to arrive. But as time slowly went by, that patience was quickly evaporating along with the slightly calm state he held onto. Every minute that passed is a minute closer to Death. From the amount of blood he continued to lose, the meeting with Death seems quite near.

While more time went by, the more Gilligan wanted to do something. Anything that could help him get out of this horrible situation. He couldn't just laid there silently and do nothing while he bleed to death. He had to do something. So he did. He called out to the others. The young man knew it was a waste of energy and breath, but he just couldn't take doing nothing any longer. He had to do something or else he would have gone crazy.

The sailor inhaled as deeply as he could, which wasn't much, trying to relieve the unbearable pain in his chest. Sweat beads covered his forehead and cuts, and flowed like a rushing river down into his eyes and face. The dislocated shoulder on his right arm had ignited an excruciating session of twinges that ran from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. The youngest Castaway gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

His eyes left the ledge where he was lying and went up, attempting to see the outer rim of the cliff, but the sun's position had moved again, blinding the former Navy sailor from seeing the outline of the cliff.

So much blood, the young man thought in alarm as he observed the substance on and around his figure, and halfway covering the ledge. I could bleed out by the time help arrives.

That last thought caused him to shudder in fear at the idea of dying alone from blood loss on this rocky ledge. The first mate never imagined he would die this way. Of course, Gilligan never thought of where he would be when he died. He had always assumed the place would be somewhere familiar and comfortable with family and friends close by, ready to tell him their final goodbye. Gilligan never thought about being stuck on this ledge during his final hours or about being on this uncharted and deserted island. However, he wouldn't complain if his island family was surrounding him as his time came closer and closer.

Maybe his family will find him before it was too late, which hopefully won't be much longer. Not the dying part, but the part where his family was with him. Since the young sailor couldn't check the time on his watch, he had to resort to figuring out the time by using the sun. And if he was correct as the young man observed the position of the sun in the sky, it has already been a little past an hour and a half since he had been stuck on this ledge. The former Navy sailor gulped; it would be hotter soon as the sun rose, and he already was dripping with perspiration. And he was cold…or was something else causing him to sweat and feel cold? Could the coldness be his fear that caused him to shiver?

Whatever it was, the first mate didn't want to leave his family without saying one last thing to them. Unfortunately, none of them were here with him to hear it.

"Please, God…I'm not…asking for…a lot," Gilligan spoke softly, directly upwards. "Give…me something…so I can…let my…family…know how much…they mean…to me…should they be…too late."

A miracle happened as soon as he finished his last sentence.

When the first mate's form trembled with cold, he heard something metal crashing again the rocky, hard surface before seeing a heavy and lumpy outline in his left pocket. He didn't know how the item got into his pocket, and at the moment he really didn't care. Later on when he's healthy again or in Heaven, he might stop and pondered the event. For now, he was just going to let the matter slid by.

Biting his lip as a scream begged to escape from inside, the injured sailor slowly moved his left arm and reached down towards his pocket. Apparently the level of pain from the wound went up another notch since the last time he moved his extremity. With perspiration and little black dots in his eyes, he couldn't see at first what his hand pulled out. Touching the item wasn't accomplishing anything either. The few things the lonely and scared Castaway could tell by feeling the item was its rectangular shape, the cold metal covered, and the item had a few buttons on it.

He pulled it closer to his shoulder and when his vision finally cleared up a few minutes later, the former Navy sailor turned his head to the left and looked down at his hand. There, in his palm, laid a blood-stained tape recorder that was very familiar to Gilligan. That tape recorder was the very one he, the Skipper, and the Professor found on Tongo a few weeks ago. He wasn't really an apeman, but an actor who was playing as one so he could get the part for an upcoming movie. The film would launch his career and make his very famous and rich were he to get it. How the first mate had it now instead of where it was at camp, he couldn't understand. But he was very thankful for it, especially now that he could record his final heartfelt words to his love ones.

With nothing else to do but wait (either for help or to die), the sailor pressed the record button on the machine and closed his eyes. As long as he held onto life as tightly as he could and kept surviving till his last breath, he was sure he would be alright. The youngest Castaway didn't want to die but knew he couldn't stop it. However, he would rather leave this rocky ledge, topical island, and beautiful Earth knowing he hadn't freaked out (even though he was frightened like a chicken inside) than show his fear to whoever was watching him from above.

His breaths were short and shallow since he couldn't inhale deeply.

Professor, Skipper, Mr. and Mrs. Howell, Ginger, Mary Ann, please hurry, the former Navy sailor thought, silently pleading for their presences. I need you here with me.

Gilligan opened his mouth and whispered these words with parched lips while torturous pain surged through his frame. "This is…William…Alan…Gilligan…and…in case…I don't make…it, these are my…final words…to you, my…island…family."


A/N: You know what to do. Send me a review and tell me what you thought about this chapter.

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