It's safe to say that the two of us were no longer safe. Yes – one could argue that the moment we painted on our smelly lavender wings is the moment we were no longer safe. In the grand scheme of things, though, the preceding timeframe after our first run-in with the lost boys was the beginning of the end for us. It had been about two weeks since then, and we were cutting it closer every day. Jacky and I had a bounty on our heads that wasn't so easily-evaded. In any other case, we could possibly jump the Mexican border, but it's really hard to get off an island in another realm.
"Dude, we fucked up," I panted, bruising my knuckles against stones as I hastily shaped them into a fire pit. It had been our rather poorly put-together plan to throw our pursuers off course by leaving fake campsites around the island. Rather tedious was the job, but considering how long we had managed to evade capture, it was working somewhat well.
Jacky gave me a noncommittal grunt, already starting a small fire in the pit I'd just finished. "We can't keep focusing on that, though… It'll get us killed." A couple minutes later, she put out the flames and the two of us pressed onward through the dense forest.
There was a lot of truth to what my friend had said, but I really doubt either of us found ourselves willing to so soon forget that neither of us had half the mind to keep watch that night. It would've saved us a ton of trouble, and we may not have ended up in this situation. While it was bound to happen eventually, being that we had flagrantly trespassed onto an otherworldly island, but we could've lasted another week or two without being hunted down.
"If we can get a little closer to the shore before morning, we can take a break for a while," I noted positively, feeling the blisters on my feet becoming more and more agitating. In all actuality, it just made me more depressed to acknowledge that our amount of rest solely depended on how quickly we kept moving. At this rate, the lost boys would run us into the ground.
A long whistle from the distance made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and the two of us stopped just for a moment to take a glance around. Now that I think about it, I doubt we'll make it to the shore at all.
My darker friend looked on the verge of a mental breakdown. She'd never been so lifeless before all this. In all honesty, that scared me more than the thought of death. Jacky just wasn't Jacky without her witty attitude and nitrous-powered energy.
"They're getting too close," She droned, the fear in her voice so miniscule that you'd need a hearing aid and a doctorate in psychology to notice it, "This is probably our last day running around, on the bright side…"
Nevermind, that scared me more than the thought of death.
The whistles continued, creating a Jaws-theme-esque soundtrack to our impending doom. What did they even mean? Was it just a scare tactic? It didn't matter. Whatever the whistling was trying to do, it was working wonders on my anxiety.
Jacky and I could just make out the shore by the time the sun was just peeking out above the horizon, and I'd never been so ecstatic to see that giant, blazing star in the sky. It meant that I could take a nap, even if it was just for an hour or so.
I collapsed on the sand-dirtied line between the forest and the beach, my knees cushioned into the tiny particles of rock and shell. If she had been more herself, Jacky would've very nearly been climbing into the sea by now. Unfortunately, neither of us were too sure what was in that water. Was it monsters? Seaweed? Nothing?
"We made it," I breathed, any energy I had a few moments ago diminishing itself as I sank deeper into the sand, feeling its softness in my hands.
Jacky didn't sit down next to me. Her eyes were trained on the water, and solely on the water. She looked almost peaceful, like she'd just been born again. It was rejuvenating to know that we'd actually gotten somewhere in this horrible misadventure. We were both quiet for a good amount of time, content with breathing in the salty air and watching the sun rise.
Scrunching up my nose, I decided to bring up the ever-present topic in most of our daily discussions, despite the momentary peace we'd just found. "How much longer do you think we can keep this up?" I asked, any feeling I could've put into my words dispersing on the tip of my tongue.
"Actually, I'm afraid I can't let this go on any longer," crooned a voice that made my blood boil and freeze simultaneously. Figures stalked slowly out of the forest, cornering us between themselves and the sea. Jacky was shoved to her knees, one of the hooded boys binding her wrists behind her. I couldn't even move. I was too terrified to try.
The owner of the voice made himself known, stalking in an almost cruelly calm fashion into our line of vision. He looked normal – mostly normal – and that little tidbit of information made him even more intimidating. Someone so plain looking had the presence of a demon. "That's upsetting. I'm unimpressed."
Jacky had a little bit more attitude than I did, apparently. "Wasn't trying to impress any of you assholes…" Her words were well-responded to, getting a sharp jerk back to her feet and a quick escort back into the forest.
I visibly flinched. She probably wasn't making this any easier on us. If anything, poor, hopeless Jacky had probably just signed her execution papers in perfect cursive.
"With a tongue like that, it's shocking that she's not the girl who beat one of my boys over the head," he casually remarked, getting uncomfortably close to my face. The boy just stood there for a moment, as if searching for something in my no doubt panicked expression. After a tragically long minute, he scoffed, turning back around to face the sea, "An eye for an eye, right? It's his turn now."
A blunt object made connection with the back of my skull, the nearly blinding pain knocking me out cold before I could even properly register what had happened.
"Well, I'm leaving your town again – and I'm over the ground that you've been spinning. And I'm up in the air, said, 'Baby, hell yeah.' Oh, honey I can see your house from here. If the plane goes down, damn – I'll remember where the love was found. If the plane goes down – damn." - Jason Mraz: Plane
AN: Ohohoh~ Wrong neighborhood, motherfucker! Poor Mel. She got the short end of the stick. You win some, you lose some. Right? Thanks to Msballetdiva, theshadowwithinyoursoul, and my-beloved-monster for reviewing! Ahhh, yes. Peter fucking killed that episode. Goddamn… I got into an argument with my mom, because she hates Peter so much. It's probably because you're 56, mom. To my-beloved-monster, thanks for the help! I can see where that would get tedious. I suppose it's just something I got used to doing in my stories. Hope it was a little better this time around. See you guys later!