"A funeral?" Parker asked. "Why the hell do we need a funeral? We need some fuckin' food and some goddam shelters, not a funeral."

Baker was determined to get this funeral, however, and shook his head. "It'll only take a little bit. Ten minutes, tops," he said. Parker sighed. "Please?"

"Fucking fine," he said. "But don't expect me to be there. And tell everyone there to get their asses back here as soon as the goddam thing's over. Abe says we need to have regular meetings or some shit."

"Alright!" Baker said, smiling cheerfully and heading back to the gravesite. Barkovitch had finished Larson's headstone and had laid it on his grave. Some other guys were getting ready to dig a place for the headstone and Barkovitch looked half-asleep. "Okay! Everyone get the others! We're having a funeral!"

There was some grumbling, but eventually everyone dispersed to get their friends, apart from Barkovitch, who stayed exactly where he was, and Ewing, who continued to dig the spot for Larson's headstone. Looking at Ewing, Baker felt horrible, so he just didn't. They'd rode up to D.C. together – Baker was from Louisiana and Ewing from Texas – and it had simultaneously been the most awkward and gut-wrenching moments of Baker's life. Because Ewing was black, and Baker had been a night rider for three years.

He'd tried to put that out of his mind, however, and tried to pretend that Ewing wasn't there, that he didn't have to internally freak out every time he looked at him. But then Ewing had decided to join the burial crew and it had all gone downhill from there.

Thank God Ewing didn't know. Baker didn't know what he would do if Ewing did know.

Eventually, all of the boys on the island – minus Collie Parker who, true to his word, had skipped it – were gathered around the graves. They gave them a wide berth, like they were expecting the dead boys to rise up out of the graves. Baker sure hoped they wouldn't. Not only would it be something straight out of a horror novel, but it had been hard work digging those graves. They hadn't had any shovels, they'd had to dig a huge one for the mass of guys that had died in the plan crash, and half of the people didn't want to do anything. They started out scratching into the dirt with sticks and rocks, and eventually were just using their hands to scoop dirt and rocks and worms out of the ground.

Baker looked around and decided that it was time to start. "Alright," he said, giving them a slightly nervous smile. He was good at speaking in front of a bunch of people, but only if he knew how to start. "Now, as you know, most of these guys died in the plane crash. Larson – thanks, Ewing, for putting that there – died just today when a cliff collapsed under him and he fell into the ocean. Thanks to a lot of guys that helped out and Barkovitch who carved the headstones, it'd be really hard to do this by myself."

The guys gave themselves a round of applause. Baker could see Barkovitch slip off and didn't blame him. These guys were applauding for him, after all. They hated him already, Baker could see that. Baker took pity on the kid – he was annoying, but he was damn good with that switchblade of his and had made quick work of the headstones. One read 'Nameless Boys – Died in plane crash' and the other read 'Larson – Fell off of cliff.' It was a shame that they hadn't known Larson's first name, but it worked.

"Now, I think we ought to just take a moment to mourn the ones who aren't alive anymore. None of us really knew them, but we still want to mourn them, don't we? Don't roll your eyes like that, Olson, what if it's you next? There are a lot of things on this island we don't know and we ought to be careful and mourn the ones who ain't," Baker said. He took a deep breath and bowed his head, staring down at his clasped hands and the graves. It had been a lot of hard work and taken a lot of time, but they were done for now and he could help Abe with the shelters or help Davidson find food tomorrow.

There were a few moments of silence, then it began to break up. Baker let them go, watching as they melted into the shadows and headed back to the main area. Abraham appeared next to him and Baker acknowledged him with a nod.

"You did good, talking up there," Abraham said.

"Yeah," Baker said. He allowed a mischievous smile even with the sober feeling to the place. "Better than you would've done."

"You don't know that!" Abraham protested and Baker gave him a shove and headed back through the trees. He could hear Abraham crashing through the trees behind him and laughed a little. He was about as subtle as a deer in the middle of the road. "C'mon, Art, get back here!"

Baker caught a hold on one of the branches and hoisted himself up, managing to wriggle his way to lying on the branch. He couldn't really see with how dark it had gotten, but he could hear Abraham perfectly. There was an excitement in the night he hadn't felt in a while. He'd forgotten how wonderful it was to be out at night when it was warm and dark and quiet enough that you could hear the subtle things – the crickets chirping, the wind ruffling the leaves, thing like that. And, of course, Abraham breaking branches and cursing.

He could see the shadowy form of Abraham come through the trees and readied himself. The branch was starting to creak dangerously, so he'd have to hurry. Abraham had to duck to get under the branch Baker was on – really, it was a good thing Abraham wasn't very observant, he would've seen Baker for sure if he wasn't – and Baker took this chance to drop down onto his back. This probably wasn't the best idea, seeing as Abraham stood up fast and smacked Baker's head against the tree.

He felt dizzy, feeling himself going limp and clutching to Abraham's neck. Abraham, understandably, freaked out, trying to twist around and get him off of his back and back to camp. Baker knew that he should probably let go and let Abraham do his thing, but it was tough when he didn't want to fall.

Half-conscious, Baker eventually fell from Abraham's back and hit the ground with a soft thud. Abraham turned and picked him up, muttering curses under his breath as he carried him back to camp.

this was getting really hard to write so i switched povs