Chapter 14: Turning Away

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The sound of the second gunshot had been more terrible than the first. The first time the loud crack had echoed around them, it had scared him to death. It had been totally unexpected, and when he had realized what it really meant - someone fired a gun - a sick bile had formed in his throat. But the second gunshot…

It had been all the more horrible, had sickened him more, because Jackson had been waiting for it. Heart beating wildly, hands fisted so tightly he could feel his nails tearing the skin of his palms, he had listened to the silent jungle, waiting for that gunshot and praying he would never hear it. For firing a gun once - that could be an accident, or an act of intimidation, or just a warning shot. Firing twice, with some time between, that was deliberation. That was shooting because there was a target.

Jackson's mind conjured up images of Lex, Taylor, Daley, Nathan and Eric, all bloody and unmoving and dead.

"Oh - oh God…" Melissa sounded like she was going to be sick. Her breathing was abnormally loud in the stillness after the gunshots.

"Do you think - who did - was someone - maybe it wasn't - " She was almost hyperventilating, her voice small and scared.

He wanted to tell her once again that everything would be alright, wanted to reassure and comfort, and pull her huddled form against his own shivering body. However, he couldn't form those words, and couldn't move his arms to draw her closer. Through this entire hellish night, Jackson had tried hard to convince himself and Melissa that they would be alright in the end, that they all would survive this. He had held on to that hope through the swim to the boat and back, even through the fight with the thug, and he had not been disappointed - he and Melissa were still alive. Granted, they were more or less wounded physically and mentally, but God, they had managed to stay alive.

Someone else hadn't managed the same. The two gunshots had shattered his belief, had destroyed every thought of a happy ending. Someone was dead. Nothing would be alright again.

"What…what are we going to do now?" He could feel her eyes on him despite the covering darkness, her expectant gaze itching under his skin.

He had no answers to offer to her. What could they do? What could he do? Jackson had no plans, no idea how to act next; he was useless and someone was dead.

Melissa was still waiting for him to say something, and he couldn't even look at her. What did she want him to say? He couldn't speak, for he couldn't offer false promises anymore. He couldn't pretend that everything would be alright, couldn't lie to her that he knew what to do.

Jackson was so tired; all he wanted to do was sit there, resting against the rough bark of the tree, and close his eyes and sleep. Forget where he was, how he had become to be there; forget himself. If only he could.

"Jackson?…"

I don't know what to do anymore.

His whole body was aching, his lungs still burning from the fight and the mindless flight from the beach. Every muscle in him hurt, and around his throat there was a pair of phantom hands squeezing.

Jackson kept his eyes open. It would not all just go away, if he willed it so. That had not worked when he had been a kid, and it certainly wasn't going to work now. He had tried so hard, but in the end, no one could ignore the world forever. It always got you. First with the plane crash, then with the people he had come to call his friends, with the girl that had this uncanny way of looking straight into him with those dark eyes. He had been screwed the very day he had arrived at Hartwell.

"What should we do? Maybe they need our help?" Melissa was persistent.

I'm so sorry - I don't know what to do.

"Should we go…find them?" She had no idea what to do either, but this burning desire to help, to somehow make the situation better, and Jackson had to once again marvel at her willingness to think of others before herself. Someday she is going to get hurt - hell, she has already gotten hurt.

"Maybe we should-"

"No." The word came from his lips sharp and forceful.

No more rescue attempts. No more running around. They were done with it all - it had to be over for them.

"We're going to stay here." They would not move from that spot until morning, if even then. They could do nothing, but wait and stay alive. Jackson would be damned, if they rushed to another dangerous situation ever again.

She was silent for a long moment, and the soft "okay" released the breath he had been holding. If she had insisted on going…

Melissa shifted and settled closer to Jackson. Their arms brushed, and he could feel her breath on his face, when she tilted her head to look at him.

"Okay," she repeated, still so soft and careful, like the world wasn't ending, like someone, someone they knew - loved - wasn't dead. Her voice, unbearably gentle, clenched his heart.

He couldn't say anything to her in return, but he did put his arm around her and pulled her closer.

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o

Daley was shaking all over, so relieved and unbelieving that the man had left, that she had really threatened him with a gun, that it had worked and they were not dead. She just couldn't stop shaking.

I can't believe I did that.

She still felt the sick desperate fear, could hear the gunshots echoing in her head, mocking that she was too late. I was not! Thank God I was not - Everything that had happened after she had stepped into the clearing had happened under a strange haze, her hand holding the gun steady, although she had already been shaking so hard, the hot anger for the man who was threatening her brother strong and burning.

And Lex - Lex -

Lex was sobbing hard, his arms tight and bruising around Daley, his face pressed against her chest. She was holding him with equal force, not daring to let go. His shuddering sobs tore at her heart, and she had to remind herself that he was safe now, that she hadn't been too late - I was not! He is alive, breathing, crying -

"It's okay now, everything is okay, I'm here and you're safe and everything is going to be okay…" Daley mumbled an endless litany of reassurances into his ear, hoping to sooth him, to make them both believe that the nightmare was finally over.

Lex didn't seem to acknowledge her words in any way, but she went on whispering comforting nonsense, rocking him, trying to stop the sobs from breaking loose from her own throat.

"Shush now, it's okay, I'm here, not too late not too late…" Alive, breathing, crying -

"Daley?" She barely heard Nathan say her name, but she heard it, and for the first time in a long while, she wanted to ignore him. Not now. She just wanted to hold her brother, bask in the relief of not-too-late, and the rest of the world could wait.

"Daley?"

"We have to go now!" Eric this time; impatient and almost terrified.

Daley forced herself to lift her head and to take a look around her. Eric was standing at the very edge of the clearing, half turned towards the jungle, casting furtive glances back at them, nervous and more than ready to leave. Nathan was standing close by, holding the gun she had dropped earlier - couldn't hold it anymore, cannot ever again - carefully in his hands. The dead man lay in the middle of the clearing.

They had to leave, before the leader changed his mind and decided he wanted to kill them after all. They had to leave, before the image of the dead man would burn into their minds irrevocably. It already has.

"Daley, we have to go." Nathan's demeanour was calm, but his eyes were anxious.

He was right. She had to get Lex away from the clearing, away from the dead man, away from the rest of the thugs. It was not too late.

"Okay." Her consent dissolved some of that worry in Nathan's gaze, and she could practically feel Eric's unvoiced Finally!

Without wasting anymore time, Daley turned away from the clearing to follow Eric, who was already stepping into the dark maze of palm trees, when Lex whimpered and tightened his grip on her.

"It's okay. I'm not letting go, just move with me. We have to go now." She squeezed her brother, and felt Lex nod against her chest, and then they were walking awkwardly, clinging to each other, their movements halting, but neither had any intention of letting go.

Daley felt slightly better, when they were finally in the jungle, leaving the clearing behind them, Eric leading them deeper into the forest, Nathan guarding their backs. She didn't ask where they were going - not back to camp, that was certain - and she didn't really care. As long at it was somewhere far from the clearing, somewhere safe - no place is safe - she would gladly walk all night and the next day, if she had to.

She had her brother back. She hadn't been too late.

Everything else was not worth thinking of.

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o

So, things had not gone exactly the way he had envisioned.

Still, everything was good. Not the kind of good Cole had originally planned, but the kind of where things could have been a lot worse, but because of some miracle (and his skills) they weren't. Cole had took the risk, and it had been Jin and not him, who had gotten that bullet in the stomach. Cole himself was alive, had his money and was finally leaving the damned island and those irritating brats behind.

And fuck if I ever come here again.

It had been too close; first Jin and then the girl. Cole hadn't been surprised like that for a long time. He had thought he knew where everyone stood, and the uneasiness that came from being proved wrong was still coiling inside him. He had underestimated them and their desperation and willingness to put everything at risk. Cole still didn't fully understand Jin's motivations; the bastard had never seemed the type to backstab for pure greed, not because he was particularly loyal, but because Cole had thought that Jin had been smarter than that. Backstabbers were always stabbed right back - or in this case shot.

Really, how could Jin think that he could just take Cole's money and get away with it? The man had walked into his own death. Hell, Jin had practically pulled the trigger himself.

The girl on the other hand… He hadn't foreseen that her love for her brother would override the fear. Not many people were willing to face death even for their loved ones. Sappy and stupid, but still kind of impressive. He could have shot her, and the others. He almost had. However, Cole always thought his own interest first, and he hadn't needed to create a new mess, where there was even the tiniest possibility that everything would not go to his advantage. The girl could have had balls to fire the gun, and by some crazy change actually hit him.

Cole had gotten his money. He had almost everything he had came for.

Almost.

He had walked to the bunker, hoping to meet Larry, who should had had everything ready for the transportation of the drugs. Instead, he had faced an empty bunker, where there had been no signs of preparation of any kind. The place had been just the way they had left it earlier; dark and damp, the drug packages piled against the wall, and next to them, the sport bags they had brought infuriatingly empty.

Cole had not been pleased.

He had no time for further delays, the morning was fast approaching, somewhere on the island there was a psycho girl with a gun, and he really could not miss his appointment with his creditors, scheduled for tomorrow night. And according to his watch, it already was a freaking tomorrow. He was hours behind his schedule.

Cole should have never hired Larry; he had known the man would somehow fuck up. Apparently, he had to do every single thing by himself. Even those brats are more competent than that fucking moron.

What seemed like a hundredth time that night, the plans had changed again. But if anything, Cole was a fast thinker and a realist. He had to minimize the damages. There was no way he could get the drugs of the island on time; the clock was ticking and he was one man short. So in the end, with a heavy heart, he had put the money in the bottom of one of the bags and then filled it with as many drug packages as it could hold. The rest of it, he had to leave behind.

Well, at least there is a bunch of teenagers, who'll put it all to good use.

And yeah, Cole wasn't a vindictive man, he really wasn't, but he was satisfied to know, that those brats would rot in the island for a long time. The place was so far from any shipping charts that no one would stumble upon it on purpose or even by accident. They could play Robinson Crusoe for the rest of their (short) lives.

The bag was heavy, its handles digging into his palms, but Cole would not let go, would not rest. He was carrying his future, literary his life in his hands. He would not let go of it now, nor would he give it away. Larry would not get his promised share of the drugs, which was entirely the bastard's own fault. In fact, the profit from the packages Cole had managed to take with him together with the money just barely covered the sum he owned.

He would not be having any deep sea fishing in the near future. It was clearly all Larry's fault; he would deal with the son of a bitch soon enough.

In fact, the man already looked half done, when Cole arrived at the bay. Larry was leaning against the rowboat, cursing profoundly and nursing his head. His face was streaked with dark blood, and Cole couldn't help but wince in sympathy. Head wounds were always painful bitches. He wondered, who had had the good fortune to smack Larry in the head.

"What the fuck happened?"

Larry seemed to only then notice Cole's presence, and raised his head with difficulty, eyes hazy with pain. He opened his mouth, but Cole was quick to interrupt his rant from the start. "On second thought - I don't want to know. We are leaving now, so get your act together."

Cole watched as his words slowly sank into Larry's mind, how the confusion and displeasure became evident in the man's bloody face.

"Where's Jin?" Larry grunted, peering into the darkness as he expected Jin to appear at any second.

"Not coming. He had an accident." Cole's voice dared Larry to inquire further. Wisely, the man didn't.

"What about the drugs?" Larry's eyes fixed to the bag Cole was still holding.

"No time to load them." Cole moved to the rowboat and put the bag carefully under the seat. "Untie the boat."

"I'm having my share-"

"No!" Cole moved with a deadly speed and pinned Larry against the rowboat, his breath hot and angry and right in the other man's face. "You fucking got hit on the head and didn't do one goddamned thing I told you to do - you have no right to anything. And thanks to you, I am not getting my share either." Cole didn't shout, but his voice was all the more menacing for its composed tone. "Now, I did manage to get few packages, and if you are a good boy, you just may get one of them, when this is all over. Do you understand me?"

God, Cole wanted so badly to just put a bullet to Larry's head, but the time wasn't right for that; he needed help handling the ship. He squeezed Larry's arms a little harder, and the man grimaced and grunted with pain.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yeah - fuck - I get it." Larry's eyes closed in defeat and pain, and Cole felt a little better. He let go of the man and watched as Larry stumbled and tried to stay upright.

Fucking waste of a bullet.

"Untie the boat."

This time, Larry followed his orders without complaint. In no time, they were back in the ship, the engines running, the metallic hull turning away from the island. Returning back to the real world.

Standing at the bridge, Cole fixed his eyes to the slowly brightening horizon. His mind was already going through new plans, new opportunities and possibilities. He had survived; he always would. He was not particularly worried. Everything would work out just fine in the end.

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o

So, the thugs have left the island, and our heroes are still more or less in one piece.

Next time - the final chapter!

As always, I would very much like to read what you think.