Chapter 7: Like Lambs to the Slaughter

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While walking through the darkening jungle towards the bay, all Melissa was able to think was this is a really bad idea.

She was following Jackson's determined form, sidestepping vegetation that was too wild and thick for them to cut through, hopping over protruding roots and brushing leaves that were trying to cling to her hair and clothes. She couldn't tell where they were, if they were even going to the right direction. Jackson's step hadn't faltered though; he was walking with long strides, without pausing to rest or to look if Melissa was still following. He clearly had a mission.

She had stood behind that mission; still was standing behind it. Despite all her misgivings, Melissa knew Jackson's plan was their best chance of actually doing something to help the others, to help themselves, maybe even get off this island. It had too many risks, she could think only too many things that could go horribly wrong, but she had agreed it was something they had to try. Besides, he would have just gone without her, and that she could not allow. He might need her yet.

Any other night, and the long shadows entwining around the trees, the unfamiliar rustle deep in the bushes, the odd noises all around them, would have scared her, made her skin crawl. This night; she knew there were worse things out there than snakes and wild boars, or unknown dark shapes.

Something grabbed her leg, and she stumbled, her knees meeting the wet ground.

"You all right?" Jackson had turned and was coming back towards her.

"Yeah." Her knees sting, but otherwise the root hadn't caused any damage. Melissa rose from the ground, and took advantage of the fact she was actually facing Jackson and not his back. "Where are we?"

"Close to the bunker."

She hadn't recognized their surroundings, and quickly tried to find the form of the concrete structure from the surrounding vegetation, her heart beating faster.

"It's all right - we are going round it."

Her heart didn't slow down as much as she would have wanted. The simple knowledge that they were nearing their destination, walking to danger, made her hands tingle. Every step from now on would take them closer to the men and their guns. Anything could happen. Melissa felt awfully unprepared for any of it.

"You're sure you're all right?" Jackson was looking at her intensively, his eyes casting an almost uncomfortable weight over her, looking for any sign of hesitation and doubt.

We don't have to do this. It's still not too late to turn around.

But all she said was a curt "Yes", and then she was walking onwards, forcing herself towards the bay, before her courage would utterly fail her, and she could not move another step.

Jackson walked beside her, and silently took the lead once more.

A strange kind of quiet settled over her, a heavy resignation bearing the unmistakable mark of finality. This was it; there was no turning back now.

Step after step, she followed him, hoping, praying that they wouldn't be just running straight into the criminals, into their own way too premature deaths.

And then suddenly, they were standing at the edge of the jungle, looking over the dark swaying mass that formed the waters of the bay, waves that were rocking a big dark shadow. The boat.

Melissa didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved; Jackson had been right. About a hundred meters from the shore, a small fishing boat formed an imposing shape against the dusky sky. It rolled from side to side, straining at its anchor.

They peered cautiously over the small patch of beach, eyes searching for any sign of the men. The luck was on their side though; the shore was empty, the only noises were created by the restless wind, and there was no light in sight.

Jackson left the cover of the trees and stepped into the beach. Melissa held her breath involuntary, waiting for an angry shout or a shot. Nothing happened.

"They must be all back in the camp." His voice shattered the tense atmosphere, and managed to break her paralysis. She felt her shoes sank to the sand as she walked to him. He was looking thoughtfully around him, eyes discerning the shapes at the line between the forest and the bay.

"I wonder…" Jackson let the sentence fade away, his attention wholly on something in the distance.

"What?" Melissa could hear the alarm in her voice, and hated her own timidity. She quickly followed Jackson, who strode towards the left side of the bay, opposite from where they had came from.

As they neared the edge of the jungle, she could distinguish a shape that strangely reminded her of a half moon. Only when they came to stand over it, Melissa recognized that it was a rowboat, tied to a palm trunk.

"Just as I thought - they didn't swam to the shore." He was grinning as he examined the wooden boat.

"Well, this is great. Now you don't have to swim." One of her biggest concerns about the whole plan had been the fact that Jackson would have to swim to the boat - in the dark, rough sea.

"No, using the rowboat will only hinder. Besides, it can be seen too easily." He lifted one of the wooden oars, testing its weight.

"But - you could just row to the ship and back."

"Which is just as hard as swimming, if not more so." He didn't pause from his inspection, but looked closely at the few assorted items that had been left at the bottom of the boat. "And if they come back, they'll immediately see that it's missing."

Melissa acknowledged grudgingly that Jackson's reasoning made sense, but that didn't mean she was ready to just give up her point.

"You'll have to swim at least a hundred meters in a heavy swell, and then back again."

"I'm a good swimmer." He wasn't looking at her; he seemed only partly concentrate on what she was saying, his mind already made. It irritated her.

"How are you going to get on to the deck? You can't climb-"

"They must have left some kind of ladder or rope hanging on the side. How else are they going to climb there?"

Melissa looked despairingly over the small coil of rope and two plastic buckets, full of rain water. Trust the criminals to disregard boating safety; there were no life jackets or anything else that might have been of any use to them.

As if reading her mind, Jackson concluded his examination of the rowboat and its items saying, "Nothing we can use." He started walking back to where they had come, exasperated Melissa fast on his heels.

"Jackson!"

Her voice stopped him abruptly, and he turned almost reluctantly to face her.

"You are really going to do this?" The breath hitched on her throat, and the air in her lungs struggled to get out.

"I think you should wait in the jungle, far from the rowboat. Hide there until I come back. " He was gesturing towards the edge of the forest, not meeting her eyes.

"This is crazy."

"I thought you agreed to this plan."

"I did." But that had been before Melissa had actually seen the roaring sea, the dark waves beating against the hull of the ship.

"And what now, you don't want to get help?" His voice was strained.

"I don't want you to drown!" Her shout startled them both.

Jackson finally locked his eyes to hers, and for the first time Melissa could clearly see the fear and doubt in them.

He is just as much afraid as I am.

Oddly, the revelation calmed her down. He was not indifferent to all this, but just trying to cover up his own unease.

"You don't have to do this." It's ok, if you don't. I'll still think the world of you. She tried to convey with her eyes all that she could not put to words.

"Yes I do." He offered her a small smile that made her choke back tears.

They didn't argue anymore after that. She watched silently as he got ready; gathering in her arms the wet clothes he shed, picking the sneakers from the sand.

He shivered in his boxers, and she felt furious and ashamed of herself to be blushing over his state of dress in such a serious situation.

"Stay out of sight." He didn't wait for her answer, but started to walk towards the dark ocean.

"Be careful." Her voice was quiet, and she wasn't sure, if he even heard her words. She watched as he stepped into the sea, wading through the water until it reached his shoulders. Her eyes followed his form among the waves, concentrated on each stroke of his hands.

She watched him until she couldn't any longer discern him from the dark swaying mass of water, couldn't recognize his familiar shape.

When her knees buckled, she sat on the sand, and continued to watch the sea.

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It had stopped raining, and it was dark outside.

The bad guy -the one in charge- had turned Nathan's flashlight on some time ago, its light casting eerie shadows on the walls of the plane. As if things weren't freaky enough.

Taylor had been quiet and still so long, she felt that something would soon burst in her; hysterical shout or uncontrollable sob. The fear itched underneath her skin, but she forced herself to sit still. If she could just be still and quiet, then maybe no one would notice her, and she would cease to exist; this nightmare would end, and she would soon wake up in her own bed, or if she could not have that, then maybe in her sleeping bag, back in their tent.

Yeah, I can wish.

But lately, life had been a regular bitch, suffering from some bad, never ending PMS. First the crash, the whole we-are-stuck-here-without-so-much-as-a-roll-of-toilet-paper hell, struggling to get just something to eat, then the storm, and now this. It was so unfair.

It would have seriously pissed her off, if it didn't made her feel so afraid.

She sat cross-legged between Eric and Nathan, their shoulder's almost brushing hers. Daley was huddled against Nathan, and Lex in turn against her. Their faces were obscured by hair and darkness. Taylor couldn't remember, when was the last time she had been this physically close to so many people, so long a time. She had never felt more alone.

The stillness of the moment was broken suddenly, when the leader shifted in his seat and stretched his arms.

"Cut out the beauty sleep Larry; it's time to start working."

The larger man immediately opened his eyes, fully alert and already grinning like a maniac. Creep.

"Finally, I can't wait to get off this island."

"We'll be off soon enough, but business first." The leader had fixed his eyes on Larry, ignoring the rabbit-in-the-headlights-looks the five kids were giving him.

"Oh, I'm all for business first and pleasure later." Larry chuckled, his gaze lingering on Taylor. She couldn't help shuddering. Did I say Creep already?

"Good." The leader's smile was cold. "Go get the ship ready for the drugs. We'll start loading them as soon as Jin and I get there."

It was obvious that Larry was none too pleased with that.

"And what are you going to do?"

"We'll take care of things here." The man's voice was smooth, but the more Taylor listened to him, to more she recognised that the composed façade was just that - a façade. She had done the same countless of times; hid her confusion and fear under the mask of nonchalance. She doubted that he was hiding fear though.

"It's Jin's boat."

"And I just told you to go to prepare it." The leader didn't flinch under Larry's angry glare, but stared right back, until Larry dropped his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, as the whole thing didn't suddenly matter anymore.

"If you say so." He stood up, and walked briskly to the exit, almost kicking the Asian, who was sitting on the floor, in the progress.

Taylor felt almost giddy with relief. She couldn't see that creep leave fast enough.

"Cole." Larry paused at the door, his eyes hooded. "Your taking care of things better involve putting a bullet to their little heads." His voice was just a snarl. "I'm not taking any chances of getting caught again."

Not waiting for an answer, the man stepped outside, his boots creating a heavy thud with each footstep. It was like all the air had been sucked from the plane; Taylor gasped for breath, her thoughts reeling into one panicked prayer, God, please don't let us die.

"Ok, everybody out."

The Asian man - Jin or Jong or something- was already out of the plane, when Nathan rose from his seat, pulling Daley up with him.

As Eric stood, Taylor was left sitting on the floor alone, her mind and body numb.

How could it all end like this? None of it made any sense. She was supposed to finish school and become an actress, first maybe in one of those hip sitcoms, later in Hollywood box office hits. This could not happen; she was yet to fall in love, to do any of that stuff that really mattered.

I want to have kids. I want to see my mom and dad again.

Even after getting stranded on the island, struggling to survive, she had never really thought that she would not make it - that she would not live. Her fear had always been of not getting back to home, never of death.

"Come on." Eric's voice was a mere whisper. He looked down at her, offering his hand.

She hesitated, but as Eric's face was growing more alarmed by the minute, she grabbed his hand and let him lead her out of the plane.

The air was cool and damp, and everything smelled of rain.

Taylor trembled, and squeezed Eric's palm so hard it hurt them both. They were back in their earlier position, their backs against the plane, the two men in front of them, trapping them.

There's nowhere to run.

Someone sobbed; an utterly inconsolable sound, wrenching her own grief free.

The leader remained impassive to their distress.

"Alright. The game ends now."

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Exited? Bored? Fretful? Still interested?

Next week…well, there are really no respites for any of them.