Author's Note:

Hello everyone! I have to say, I am VERY excited to be sharing this story with you. I started work on it a little over a year ago and am so happy it's finally complete! I love Death in Paradise and have wanted to add another story to the fandom for a long time. Thanks for checking it out!

The idea for this story came from a dream I had. I was running through a jungle and I knew I was being chased by something trying to eat me. Then out of nowhere, Richard Poole appeared, dressed like Indiana Jones and with a full beard. He grabbed me and told me where I needed to run and that he would "hold them off!" I woke up and was like, "What the heck was that? And since when did Richard Poole become such a badass?" So my mind got to work with creating the type of story that would have to exist around a scene like that, and the AU you are about to read is a result of that. I really hope you enjoy it.

A big thanks, as always, to my amazing and diligent beta, Kaheels. You know you're the best thing that ever happened to my writing (and I'm honored to call you "friend").

Now, on to the story! I hope you enjoy it! Deep breath in...deep breath out...here we go!

Chapter One: Survival

Technically, they weren't extraterrestrials; that much was very clear, at least to Richard Poole. The word "extra-terrestrial" obviously means "other worldly," or originating from some place other than earth. But this species appeared to very much originate from earth. Directly from it, as a matter of fact. It was some kind of underground creature that for some reason decided to surface. Richard attributed their sudden appearance surface-side to the recent earth quakes (uncharacteristic to the region) that Saint Marie and her surrounding islands had been experiencing. Or perhaps that ought to be swapped around. Perhaps the earth quakes should be attributed to these bizarre creatures. In either case, the early news reports that began the hysterical, public commentary of an "ET attack" were technically inaccurate. They weren't extra-terrestrial, but rather, Richard took to calling them crypto-terrestrials: of the earth, but not understood.

What was understood about them was that they were very hostile, they attacked in groups of five or six, and they appeared to be drawn towards hot-blooded creatures. That last one puzzled Richard, because it begged the question: If these creatures fed on warm-blooded prey, what had they been living off of through all of their centuries (or millennia) below ground? Another known fact had unfortunately not been discovered until a couple of weeks after the attacks began, and that was that the creatures could dig through most types of terrain with ease, except for the harder, igneous rock that formed the base of Mount Esmée, the island's sole volcanic mountain. It was here that Richard and 35 other inhabitants of the island took shelter and set up camp, inside a large cave with a deceptively small mouth not far up the base of the mountain.

Between them, they had managed to salvage forty blankets, ten water containers, four handguns and one rifle, nine flashlights, upwards of twenty cooking and eating vessels of varying sizes, one box of hand tools, one machete, and about half a ton of food. Also three dogs. Richard wasn't sure why they were harboring pets when it was hard enough to insure the survival of the group's human members, but apparently the animals provided some sort of calming presence, especially for the young ones in the group, so Richard allowed it. Obviously, food and water were the two resources that were depleted the quickest, so they had to be replenished by special resource expeditions every few days.

There was a property farther up the mountain that housed a coffee plantation. Coffee beans were understandably not much use without any means of roasting and pressing them, but the plantation had other uses. Only three people lived up there now and they generously allowed the group of survivors to access their water lines as long as they were still active. But much of the house and other structures that had once stood on the plantation had been severely damaged in the earthquakes, so Richard did not deem it a safe shelter for his group of survivors. Additionally, there were several members of his party left back at the cave who were either too old, too young, or too injured to safely make the trek up to the plantation on foot.

Because of these reasons, Richard left the base camp down in the cave and only brought small water teams up to the plantation to replenish their containers. He had tried, on every visit, to convince the small family remaining at the plantation to come back down the mountain and join the other survivors. But they always refused. Their family had a long history at that plantation, and they wouldn't leave it now; something between pride and fear kept them from it. So the family always remained, and Richard would bring them some supplies to trade whenever he was able.

Richard was one of three men who had been unceremoniously elected as the ultimate authorities of the group. The other men were Dr. Booker Holden and Ronnie Cartwright. The former was a physician who had lived and worked on the island for ten years, and the latter was a hardware store owner and father of four who had no other qualifications except for innate leadership skills and the general respect of the group. Richard wasn't entirely sure how the three of them all came to hold these positions of authority, but in this matter of crisis, Dr. Holden, Ronnie, and himself were the ones all others seemed to turn to. They accepted this, and Richard was ultimately pleased with the arrangement.

Before the crypto-terrestrials emerged and flung reality into a state of disaster, Richard had had little reason to socialize with the general public of St. Marie. Largely, his only real relationships on the island were with his colleagues on the police force or with their family members. He had met Dr. Holden maybe once before, and he had bought a few things at Ronnie's shop to conduct his makeshift forensic experiments for a few cases, but he hadn't really gotten to know either one of them before this…experience. It wasn't long before Richard found himself respecting and even liking both of them. It was clear to him why the others in the group deferred so easily to their guidance. Ronnie was a man of great character, practical skills, and bold leadership. Dr. Holden too had a great moral compass, but also a pragmatic attitude and a sharp intellect. Richard wasn't quite as clear what made the people place their faith so easily in himself, except that it was the responsibility of the police force to provide safety and order to the community. It was only natural then that the members of the public would look to him for continued safety in circumstances like these. Their little ring of leadership were collectively referred to as just The Three, and they could often be found removing themselves off to a quiet corner and deliberating under their breath for several minutes before returning to the group to relay the plan.

After The Three, there was a second group of able-bodied volunteers that made up the main work force of the group. This group was comprised of men and women who had athletic skill, weapons and/or combat training, camping or hunting skills, or who were otherwise capable and willing to lend a hand. These were the people who made the recurring resource expeditions. Dwayne Myers and Fidel Best, two of Richard's fellow police officers, were both a part of this group. Others who were not skilled in the ways previously described, or who had physical limitations would serve as lookout, would be in charge of meal and water distribution, or would handle the other daily chores around the camp.

Mainly, the goal was simple survival. Until the cryptos could be eradicated, Saint Marie would not be inhabitable, so the main task at hand was to survive until an evacuation of the island's remaining human population could be mounted. But that time would prove difficult to predict. Before the island's power grid and sole cell tower collapsed, news of the outside world was largely filled with similar panic. The cryptos had surfaced not only on Saint Marie, but on other islands across the Caribbean and also stretching into South America. Venezuela, Columbia, and even the northern part of Brazil were all affected. Eventually, help would come, but only after the crypto problem could be dealt with in the south. Island countries were always the last to receive aid. Richard and the other survivors would just have to hold out until their rescue could come.

That survival was made increasingly difficult as time went on. The cryptos continued to burrow under the townships of Saint Marie, destabilizing the cities' foundations and slowly causing the island's infrastructure to fail. When the island's lone cell tower collapsed, Richard's group lost all means of communicating with anyone else on the island. That is, assuming that there was in fact "anyone else." He hoped there were other survivors elsewhere on the island. Surely his merry band of 36 people and three dogs were not the only survivors on an island that used to be home to ten thousand. But no one could really be sure until a means of communication could be established.

It was Ronnie who finally came up with a way of potentially contacting the other survivors. "There is a clearing," the tall man said, looking down at the cave floor to watch his step as he and the doctor and inspector quietly moved to the side of the cave. "Halfway up the mountain. Our water teams pass it headed up to the plantation."

"Yes, I know the one," Richard replied, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You can see it from anywhere in Honoré," Ronnie went on in his thick Caribbean accent.

"He's right," Dr. Holden confirmed. "Before the buggers surfaced, I remember being able to see it from my office window."

Richard looked over at the doctor and nodded thoughtfully, then turned back to Ronnie. "What are you thinking? Some kind of signal?"

Ronnie nodded. "I think, if we gather together the brightest fabrics we can find, lots of whites and anything else that will stand out against the green of the trees, and we fasten them together, corner to corner, we can make something like a long banner. If we can make two, even better. We can hang them like a giant X over the clearing. Something so big would surely be noticeable from the town. Any survivors who are still down there would be able to see it if they looked up, and they would know it must be manmade. It would be enough to show them that there is life up here. Relative safety."

"It'd have to be bloody big," Dr. Holden mused, and the other men could finish the rest of that thought in their minds: Where would we get that much material?

Holden and Ronnie looked over at Richard expectantly. He looked between them and sighed heavily. He knew the point they were trying to make, and he hated it. Richard was always the most reluctant to sanction expeditions off of the mountain. As soon as they set foot on soft ground, their lives were in danger. They had already had to make four trips back to the outskirts of Honoré, and on the last excursion, they had lost a man and one other woman had been injured. Richard had basically relegated trips off the mountain to being strictly a last resort after that (and the group had been eating mostly naturally-occurring foods ever since). For this project, they could see if the Beaumont family up at the plantation had any fabrics they wanted to donate. But even with that, Richard knew they wouldn't have close to enough. Besides, the few blankets their group already had couldn't be spared. Though Richard had often cursed the god-forsaken heat of this tropical island, the nights could get decently cool, doubly so when sleeping in a damp cave. No, the only way Ronnie's idea could possibly work is if they could send a team (maybe a few teams) off mountain to gather the resources required.

Richard could tell, based off of their silence and expectant looks, that the other two had already made up their minds, which meant he was the last hold-out. He inhaled and turned to look at the shabby little remnant of humanity they had holed up in this dank little sanctuary. Several of the pairs of eyes quickly averted away from him when he turned their direction. He knew what they were wondering. They were hoping that The Three were coming up with a way to save them, to somehow get them off of this cursed rock. They thought this small colloquy was discussing their salvation, not realizing that they were actually discussing a plan which might only result in more of their lives being lost.

He looked at their faces, but in his imagination, he saw different faces. Hypothetical ones. Ones he hadn't seen in months, but which he had once seen around the island every single day. He wondered if those people were still alive, if they were out there somewhere, if they could make it all the way here if they only knew which way to go. Specifically, his mind's eye settled on one face in particular, with soft skin and even softer eyes. Richard gulped and blinked away the image. The other two men waited for his answer, not recognizing the painful pang of hope that flashed through his eyes in that moment before he gulped. "Do it," he said, his voice catching in his throat and causing him to cough.

Dr. Holden reached out a hand and rested it on Richard's shoulder. "Have you had your water yet today, Inspector?" he asked when the other man had gotten his coughing under control.

Richard shook his head in answer, not trusting his voice yet.

"You should go get that," Ronnie chimed in. "Holden and I will go interview the men to get some volunteers."

"No more than five, including whichever of us is going," Richard stipulated. He wanted to arm as many of them as possible, but they only had a total of six weapons, counting the machete, so they had to be conservative.

"I think that ought to be me, considering the fact that it was my hare-brained idea in the first place," Ronnie said with a rueful smile.

"Hare-brained or brilliant, only time will tell," Dr. Holden joked, and all three men smiled and laughed a little as they broke out of their meeting. It wasn't something they ever established explicitly, but they all tried to have positive attitudes and expressions on their faces when they broke from their meetings, knowing that the rest of the group would have their eyes fixed on them. It was always encouraging to see your leaders relaxed and in pleasant moods. The situation was usually somber enough without frowns added to the mix.

Richard wandered over to the "pantry" where the water and food was kept, and Mrs. Beecher immediately grabbed a steel cup and filled it with water from one of the jugs. The old woman held it out to him with a smile, and Richard answered the smile with a crooked one of his own as he took the cup.

"I thought you might be skipping your glass again today," Mrs. Beecher said.

"Shh," Richard replied sharply, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the good doctor hadn't heard her. "That's supposed to be between you and me, Mrs. Beecher, remember?"

"Oh-no," the woman answered with a wagging shake of the head. "I don't care if you're the boss; I'm not above tattling. Got to keep you boys healthy, even if I have to wrestle you down first."

Richard smirked at her fondly as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a drink. The lukewarm liquid sliding down his dry throat felt like an avalanche of life-force. He licked his lips when he was through. "And that's how you got this job: because you're ruthless," he said in answer, leaning forward to return the little cup to her.

The old woman burst into a booming laugh that echoed through the cave, and Richard felt lucky. It wasn't often that any one of them heard laughter these days. He was thankful their group had someone the likes of Mrs. Beecher, who always seemed just a nudge away from a guffaw at any moment. He looked around the group and noticed several other people looking over at the two of them and laughing quietly. The woman thought she was responsible only for the water, not even realizing that she portioned out an even more precious commodity.

Richard noticed, in that moment, another lady approaching him: Lily Shaw. She too was an individual with whom he had only crossed paths once or twice before the cryptos surfaced. Now, she had become a vital contributing member to their little group. She also had a little smile on her face as she approached him with a damp cloth, handing it to him. Richard happily accepted the cloth and dragged it over his face and around the back of his neck.

"What were you three chatting about over there?" Lily asked, crossing her arms.

Richard gathered up the tails of his shirt and reached the cloth up to wipe over his chest and under his arms. Proper baths happened only rarely, so this was the common alternative. "A plan to try to contact the others on the island," he answered.

"Do you need volunteers?" Lily asked, causing the inspector to look over at her with a subtle smile. Lily was just a civilian, but her bravery did her a great credit. Richard couldn't help but think she would have made a fine police officer with the proper training.

"What's the plan?" someone interjected from a mat on the floor, having overheard Richard.

Richard looked over at the woman who had asked the question. He couldn't quite remember her name. Started with an S, he thought. But when he glanced around his immediate vicinity, he noticed several people watching him, waiting for his answer.

"Ahhem, yes. Excuse me!" Richard said, clearing his throat and lifting his voice for the whole cave to hear. That little cup of water was revealed to be inadequate in totally smoothing his vocal cords and Richard had to cough and clear his throat again before continuing. "Can everybody hear me?" He looked to the back of the "room" to see the nods of confirmation before continuing. "Yes, alright. Well, we've come up with an idea to try to contact the other survivors on the island." As soon as he said so, he heard a murmur of excitement rumble throughout the group. "It involves creating a signal, a beacon of sorts that we will install in the clearing halfway up the mountain. That clearing is visible from fifty percent of the island and we are hoping that, if we put something big enough there, our friends and loved ones will be able to see it and know that there is safety to be found on this mountain. To do this, we will need to collect…" Richard turned down his mouth into a frown and shrugged pointedly towards Ronnie on the other side of the cave, beckoning his input.

"Any white shirts, towels, or blankets you might have. As well as sewing and tying supplies," Ronnie responded from where he stood, causing the whole congregation to turn and look at him. "We want to string these items together to make two large banners. We're hoping that with enough of them, we can create an X, big enough to make out from anywhere on this side of the mountain."

Richard took over the announcement again after that. "Obviously, don't part with anything unless you are completely able. We will send two groups out to collect more material: One group that will go up to the plantation and collect some from there, and another that will go down into Honoré to see what can be found."

A different kind of murmur rippled through the room at that news. Richard looked over at Dr. Holden anxiously at the reaction, and the good doctor spoke up. "Obviously, for that last group, you'll be armed so we will need a few volunteers who we know can handle a gun. But this is strictly on a volunteer basis."

"I'll be leading the Honoré group," Ronnie said.

"And I'll be taking the group up to the plantation," Richard quickly added, before Holden had the chance. "In either case, our excursions won't happen until tomorrow morning. So at some point tonight, if you'd like to volunteer for either group, please talk to either me or Ronnie and we'll get the teams sorted. Thank you for listening and if you have any questions, talk to Ronnie."

When he was finished with his speech, the room roared to life as all of the little family groups turned and started talking amongst themselves about the news. Richard noticed Fidel turn and say something to his wife and then get up. Quickly, Richard closed the distance between them and caught Fidel by the arm just as the police sergeant was about to head in Ronnie's direction.

"Ah, Fidel," Richard said, nonchalantly. "I could use your help tomorrow on the plantation group."

"But sir, I was just about to go volunteer for the other group."

"Of course you were, but no. I'll really be needing you in mine."

"But why?"

"Sorry?"

"Why will you be needing me? You will just be carrying blankets down the mountain. But I have firearm experience and combat training that will really be useful in the other group," Fidel argued.

Richard was caught. His sergeant made several good points, and Richard could not reasonably justify the request he was making. But he looked down at Fidel's wife, and the little daughter she held in her lap. He had a feeling his motivations were perfectly transparent, but he held fast anyway. "This isn't a debate, Fidel. You can go on the next one, but tomorrow, you'll be coming with me. That's an order." Without leaving room for rebuttal, he turned and walked away, perfectly aware of the look of adolescent persecution on Fidel's face behind him.

Richard needed air. Even if it was hot, it would at least be fresh. He tried to maintain his aplomb, but the truth of the matter was: he hated the idea of sending another team off the mountain. The anxiety started to climb in his chest from the moment the idea was suggested, and that tension wouldn't drop again until every member of the team was returned safely to the camp, unscathed. And if that didn't happen, then the anxiety would only be replaced with a tremendous guilt, a feeling with a much longer shelf-life.

Richard walked up to the mouth of the cave, where Dwayne sat as lookout, the loaded rifle resting in his lap. "Let me guess," the police officer said, "you just recruited Fidel for the safe team."

"Plantation team," Richard corrected, perching one foot up on a rock and gazing out at the wooded view before him.

Dwayne shook his head and also turned to look out at the expanse of greenery. "You won't be able to protect him forever."

"I won't be able to protect any of you forever. That's rather the point," Richard admitted solemnly. He could see Dwayne look over at him in his periphery. Dwayne was one of the few people who still got to see Richard's occasional admissions of weakness. He mostly tried to put on a brave face in front of everyone else, but the shrewd police officer was too close to Richard to be so easily fooled at this point.

Richard squinted against the afternoon sky, adding, "Fidel has a family, and it's best that his sense of duty not cloud his ability to remember that."

Dwayne let the point rest for a moment, and then added, "And it's probably best that you remember that Fidel also has many useful skills that could save lives out there. With him a part of it, the group has a better chance of coming back all in one piece. You know that."

Richard sighed and looked down at the ground. "I'll think about it," he said at last, glumly. After that, a silence stretched out between them, Dwayne knowing that that was as much of a victory on this topic as he was likely to get. Richard looked out at the jungle, imagining the city that rested at the edge of it, far from view.

"This X of yours," Dwayne began after some time. "Do you think she'll see it?"

Again, a pang pinched Richard deep within his chest as he stared out the mouth of the cave. He wouldn't say so out loud, but he was feeling rather desperate at this point. It had been over two months, and he didn't even know if Camille was still alive.

"I supposed we'll find out," was all he said.

Author's Note: That's it for chapter one! Thank you so much for reading! You can expect regular updates on this as the story is completely written. Please leave a review to let me know what you thought of this chapter, and the next one will be up soon!