Ray Garraty sucked at fishing.
McVries had managed to round up a few more guys to go with them, some people that Garraty didn't really know or care about. They'd split up, Garraty, McVries, and Larson going one way, the other three going the other way. Larson walked in front of them because he had a tendency to wander off and Garraty wanted to know the vague direction he'd wandered off in.
Because Garraty sucked at fishing, he'd led them in a direction that rose to cliffs. They couldn't find a suitable spot to fish, so they just kept walking. McVries looked at him like he knew what Garraty was thinking when he suggested they go this way. Garraty didn't know what to do, so he looked back at McVries. McVries rolled his eyes.
"You can't fish, can you?" McVries asked. Garraty shook his head.
"Not really," he admitted. "But I think we'll be fine, right?"
McVries laughed. "Maybe some of the others know how the fish. Curly looks like he maybe does," he said. There was a slight pause. "So what do you propose we do?"
Garraty was about to answer when the bit of cliff that Larson was walking on broke and he fell screaming toward the waves and sharp rocks. "Larson!" Garraty said, lunging toward the hole. McVries wrapped his arms around Garraty's waist and hauled him back. "Let me go! We can't just-"
"There's nothing we can do," McVries said, pulling Garraty backward. Larson's body had been impaled on one of said sharp rocks and he was stuck there, blankly staring out at the world. Garraty very nearly threw up. "We just need to get back. Get Baker."
"Get the mortician, great," Garraty muttered. "You can let go of me now."
McVries let go of him and Garraty sort of regretted telling him he could. The feeling of McVries's arms around him had been comforting, a little weird, but comforting, especially when he'd just seen a guy fall to his death.
They walked back to the camp in silence, close to each other for comfort. Garraty felt empty, though he didn't know why – he didn't know Larson that well, and had, in fact, thought him annoying. But that didn't mean that he'd wanted him to die, especially not that quick, violent death that he'd had.
Once they got back to camp, looking and feeling exponentially more gloomy than they had when they left, Abraham gave them a funny look. "Who died?" he asked. Garraty paled.
"Larson," McVries said bluntly, and Abraham blinked.
"What- no, seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously," McVries said. "Where's Baker?"
"I'll take you to him," he said. He turned back to his crew. "Hey, just keep working on stuff. I've gotta go see a dead body."
Half of them gave him the finger, the other half ignored him. Abraham rolled his eyes and led McVries and Garraty to the far end of the beach, where Baker was conducting mass burial. A gigantic hole had been dug just inland, and people were pushing bodies in while others were gathering bodies from the beach. Gary Barkovitch was sitting on a rock, carving something in a large slab of wood with a switchblade. A makeshift headstone, perhaps?
"Baker!" Abraham said. "They need you."
Baker hurried away from his supervision and joined them. He was sweaty and his light blond hair stuck to his face in clumps. He smiled. "What's up?"
"Larson's dead. We didn't know what to do, so we decided to find you," McVries said. "You seem the most comfortable with dead people."
Baker blinked. "Oh, alright," he said. "Are you coming, too, Abe?"
Abraham, who looked like he was going to be sick, shook his head. "Nope," he said. His voice sounded raw, like he was about to puke. "I'm going to go back and build some shelters."
"Alright," Baker said. He turned to Barkovitch. "Once you're done with that one, could you make one for Larson?"
Barkovitch merely nodded, something that seemed a bit odd to Garraty, seeing as he'd been more of a 'talk for an annoyingly long period of time' sort of guy before.
McVries led the way, Baker and Garraty following him. "So, how'd it happen?" Baker asked. They all seemed far too casual about this. Someone was dead. Of course, maybe Baker had been completely desensitized to this sort of thing, seeing as he was the official burial crew of the group.
"We were walking along this cliff and it just broke and he fell," Garraty said. He took a deep breath. "I don't know how it happened. It's… just… thank God he was walking in front of me and McVries or it would have been one of us."
It would have been McVries. McVries was walking on the outside, Garraty under the shade of the trees because he was paler. Garraty didn't want to think of what would happen if he lost McVries. He didn't want to think about that possibility. He didn't want to imagine running back to find Baker if it had been McVries impaled on that rock. He'd only known Peter McVries for about a day, true, but something about this sort of situation made relationships build faster and, at the moment, Peter McVries was the best friend he'd ever had.
Baker was nodding. "Alright," he said. "So he's in the water? I think you guys will have to help me. You can swim, right?"
"Yeah," Garraty said. The rest of the way to the scene of Larson's death was silent. Garraty found himself watching the back of McVries's head and wishing that he was walking beside him like he'd been on the way to find Baker.
Once they got to where the beach started to incline, McVries stopped. "We better start here," he said. He took off everything but his underwear. Garraty and Baker copied him, and they started to walk through the water. It went to Garraty's knees and was rising a bit.
"Wave!" McVries warned, and Garraty looked up just in time to be pushed over by a wave. He just missed knocking his head on the steadily rising cliff. Baker was knocked into the cliff and looked a bit dizzy when he stood back up. "Watch out for those."
"Yeah," Garraty said, and the three set off again.
There were a few more big waves that, if they didn't press themselves against the cliff, knocked them around. Once McVries hit a dropoff and Garraty was about to dive after him when he swam back to the surface, grabbing onto a rock jutting out of the side of the cliff. "Watch out there!" he gasped.
Eventually, they got to Larson's body. It was exactly like they'd left it. Baker got to work right away, wriggling Larson's body off of the rock. Garraty winced. Larson's back had been broken in the fall as well as being impaled. It looked like his neck had broken, too.
"Garraty, can you take his feet?" Baker asked. He was holding Larson under the armpits. McVries would navigate again, Garraty assumed as he grabbed onto Larson's feet. "Alright. Let's head back."
The way back took even longer; so long, in fact, that by the time they got back a grave was already dug and Barkovitch had started on the headstone. The sun was low in the sky, and Garraty was hungry. "Feel like grabbing something to eat?" McVries asked Garraty, who nodded.
They headed back to the camp, more ready than ever to eat and fall asleep.
it took so long for me to write this i really don't know where i'm going with it