Chapter 5

The next, third week on the island went by with ups and downs as the newcomer, Mathalina, put down roots in their camp. The hunting trips were not discontinued, but rather they seemed fueled by their cravings for meat and action. This was good new for Jack; however, it only brought disgruntlement for Annabelle. It frustrated her to see the hunters go out into the forest, and kill nearly every day for their own pleasures. They rarely helped out with anything else, leaving her and a few other devoted islanders-Caitlin, Lucy, Joelle, and Maurice- to watch the fire. Day and night, the five never let the signal fire go out. No matter what happened, someone always looked after it, ensuring that the huge billows of smoke could be seen. Getting rescued from the island was crucial, Annabelle knew, and it was her determination to be spotted by a plane. After two weeks, the people were growing a bit stubborn. They couldn't remember quite as well as before that they were stranded, lost in a place they didn't belong, and now simply lounged around lazily. And it was her job to make sure they didn't stay that way for long.

Clouds overcast the normally crystal blue skies that morning. Fighting back a yawn, Annabelle climbed up to her feet. She had been on the island so long without a watch, she could now tell what time of day it was simply by looking outside. The sun was risen about 45 degrees in the air. It must have been around 8, 9 in the morning. The camp was already bustling with activity, to her disgruntlement. Being the one everyone looked up to for decisions, she hoped she could at least be responsible enough to wake up earlier than the group. But they were all accustomed to the time change.

In her sight, Rosaline fixed her hair by the water in a bikini top and shorts. She must have found some luggage in the little time she wasn't sitting on the beach and admiring herself. Two other girls joined the irritating blonde, and Annabelle turned her sight to her twin sister Ruby. The two couldn't be more different. Ruby stood alone, sharpening the long spear in her hand. Even though she had all the signs of a potential hunter, the auburn-haired girl had yet to join Jack's group. She seemed more like an individual, and apparently had no intentions of following anyone.

"Annabelle! Annabelle, we've got an injury!" The shout behind her startled her into whirling around. Jack ran down from the trees; preceding him were Austen and Thayr, each carrying an arm and leg of a body. Maurice lay limp in their arms, supported by all their strength. His eyes were closed, and a long, bloody scratch ran down his chest.

As a crowd gathered around the returning hunters, Joelle caught a glimpse of the injured boy. "Maurice!" she screamed, shoving through the people vigorously to get to her boyfriend. The two boys laid down Maurice on the sand, and Annabelle hurried to the group. Her eyes widened in shock as he came into full view.

"Jack, you guys were hunting in the morning again?!"

"We had to, it's the best time!" Jack argued back. "We were trying to catch the big boar, the one we saw the other day."

"Ugh, God, how did this happen?" She wasn't a doctor, and had no idea how to treat such a wound, but she still bent over the boy and examined it. The gash looked like long track, not caused by anything sharp but rather kicked heavily. Layers of skin peeled off along with the blood. There were also bruises, blue and purple, all around the area.

"He tried to go for the pig, one-on-one, and it jumped him. It kicked him in the chest, and pawed him, I think."

"You let him do it on his own?"

"No," Jack said, frustrated. "It wasn't any of our fault. He wanted to, he just ran at the thing with his spear. If it wasn't for Roger, who"-he turned to look around, and finding no one, he continued-"is not here right now, he'd be dead. Roger kept the thing from trampling him."

As if called on cue, the oldest boy leapt out of the forest, and came racing down to the scene. Mathalina also emerged, drifting calmly from the other side of the beach.

"Roger, is he-" Before Annabelle could finish, he was already inspecting Maurice furiously. His fingers were covered in blood, as well as his button-up shirt.

"Roger, did you take care of it?" Jack said.

Between feeling the boy's heart beat and running a finger down the bruises, he replied, "Yeah," without looking up. Finally, he stood. "We're going to have to disinfect it. Clean it up, bandage it with some sort of cloth, and lay him down somewhere comfortable. He shouldn't be moving for a couple of days."

"What are you, a doctor?" Austen mumbled.

"I'm in the Level 2 Health and Safety class. You should know. You're in it." He ran to find supplies for the procedure while Austen sheepishly looked down. It was the most anyone had ever heard Roger say, and they all shared a moment of surprise. All except Mathalina, whom Annabelle noticed was wearing a small smirk.

"Let me see him!" An anxious Joelle leaned down and took his face in her hands. "The pig did this, didn't it? He never should have gone out there, oh, no…Maurice…"

"He's going to be fine, Joelle, I promise. It's a scratch, that's it." Annabelle's attempts of reassuring her was not successful.

"Just a very long, very big scratch!"

"He was being stupid, and impulsive," Hazell hissed into her ear. "It was his own fault."

"He's not like that," insisted Joelle. "He's not impulsive, and he knows what he's doing."

"Then today he made a mistake, didn't he? That idiot, throwing himself at the pig to impress everyone."

"Shut UP," Jack interrupted the rising tension as Joelle nearly stood to her feet, glaring.

"Oh, you're telling me to shut up, Jack?" Hazell said, now turning on the hunters' leader. "Why don't you make me? What are you gonna do, kick me out?" Her intense eyes stared threateningly into his.

"….No," he said quietly. "I can't do that. We need to get meat. And we can't go without everybody. So if you don't shut up, we're not going hunting."

"NOBODY is going anywhere," Annabelle shouted firmly. She motioned for Thayr and Austen to raise the body. "Take him into his shelter. We'll wait for Roger to come back, and let him do…whatever he can do." Silently, the others agreed. The sudden collaboration was quite remarkable as a majority of the group, even those who hadn't been participating much in activities around the island, aided in taking care of Maurice. While he was being moved by the boys into the shelter, the rest gathered water and clean fabric. It was soon transformed into a makeshift medical station. From the way the hunters gaped at the blood oozing out of his stomach, it didn't look like they'd be going on another trip soon.

Roger returned carrying the first aid kit found in the plane wreckage. People immediately parted to let him in. As he concentrated all his efforts on cleaning up the blood, taking care not to touch the scrape, Annabelle could see the others watching the reserved boy: accepting him, no longer seeing him as a cold and distant stranger. For the first time, he was involving himself, and had proved to be a helpful person. No one could ignore how much energy he was pouring into Maurice. And apparently, neither could Mathalina, for she crept up behind him without a word and said, "May I help?" Roger looked back at the girl, stunned, and merely nodded. She washed her hands with the bottled water, and began to wrap bandages around his abdomen. Working smoothly and quickly, her fingers tied then ripped off the end of the dressing. The minute she was finished, Maurice gasped, hacking and lifting his body up from the bed of grasses.

"Where am I? Joelle-Joelle, where are you?" Promptly, Annabelle brought water to his lips, and he drank heavily.

"How do you feel?" She asked.

He screamed painfully in response. "AGH-my chest! Its hurts, it hurts!"
"It'll be fine, you were scraped pretty badly by the boar. But Roger fixed you up. Joelle's outside, if you want to see her." As she went out to call the girl, Maurice looked up at Roger in amazement. "Thank you. For helping me. And I know you saved me from the pig, back in the jungle. Thanks for that, too." He didn't speak, but the slightest twinkle appeared on his lips as Joelle came bursting into the shelter.

"Maurice!" She shouted joyfully.

"Hey, Joelle," he replied faintly, but a smile came upon his face. They hugged, and everyone left the reunited couple to have a moment to themselves. Outside, Annabelle saw Jack pacing back and forth, almost as if he was in a hazy dream.

"Jack," She said. "What are you doing?"

He looked up, blue eyes expanding. "Is Maurice okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He'll just have to rest for a couple of days, but he should be fine." Annabelle paused. "What are you doing out here instead of with him?"

"I-um, well…I just can't be in there. Hospitals and blood and that stuff. I can't really…" his voice trailed off tensely. "Anyways. Good. So he'll be okay."

"Yeah. Thanks for caring."

Jack snorted. "I-I just can't afford to lose any hunters." But there was a second of genuine concern in his eyes. Just one second.

"Sure." Sarcasm tinted her voice, making him frown. "You should thank Roger for everything, don't you think? He was pretty brave today, saving Maurice's life. I've never seen him so active around here."

"I didn't say I wasn't grateful," he spat. "I said, if it weren't for Roger, he'd be dead. I know what he did." Rolling her eyes, Annabelle turned on her feet and walked away without an answer. Jack was clearly unwilling to credit Roger for his heroic deeds. He was a jealous ass.

The morning events played over in her head as she strode mindlessly down the beach. How had she taken control of everything so fast? One minute she had been worrying about waking up late, and next thing she knew she was looking over Maurice assuringly, taking care of him. She had even organized a medical area in a small tent made of overhanging branches and leaves. Words her mother had spoken came to mind: Annabelle, you were born to be a leader. That was a night she had share with her parents, drinking steaming hot chocolate in the living room. Her mother had told her stories of Pakistan, where she lived as a child before immigrating to America. It had been a chance at freedom, at a new beginning, she had said. A cliché story, told by many, but they were all true. Her originally Andorran mother had lived in a country where she was stripped of all rights a woman deserved, along with the rest of the female population. However, being one of the fortunate ones, she managed to escape and come here, where she met and married a Jewish-American man. Annabelle knew him as father.

Both her parents were hard-working people. Her father always pushed her to do and be her best. "I know you have what it takes to lead others, Ana," he had said that same night. "You are strong. People will look up to you." Indeed, everything on the island seemed to be playing out according to her parents' words. At the time, she had just smiled, confused. Mostly focused on her studies, she wasn't exactly a leader at school. She had a few, loyal friends, but Annabelle had never been popular. It was like her mother and father knew about what would happen on the island. Maybe they were right. Maybe this was where she was supposed to be. Never had she felt so in her place as she did on this island.

But rescue was still her main goal, and she still hiked up the mountain for her turn at the signal fire.

Ever since his amazingly calm feat as both saviour and doctor, Roger was now looked upon as the de facto medical authority figure. However, since the event, he had also gone back into his own little shell. People didn't try to approach him; although they did seem to put more trust in him after what happened. An eternally grateful Maurice was babbling to everyone about how he had saved his life. Both he and Joelle now had an unspoken alliance with Roger. They knew that if anything happened to them, they could count on him to have their backs.

The dark boy shook his head. Idiots. They didn't know him nearly enough.

"I liked that side of you," the girl named Mathalina spoke, appearing at his side from seemingly behind him. Thick, black hair swirled around her uncontested beauty as she stood in front of him. "Helping everyone, being a part of the group. I am not a team person myself. But you…it looked good on you." Her voice was nonchalant: almost as if she was speaking to herself about the weather. Words she spoke dripped with a casual, uncaring ease. Plain. Mater-of-fact. The same clothes she had worn the night they met blew across her knees, her legs. Bronzed calves, silky and perfect. How were they so smooth? The rest of her looked like she had been on the island for years: but on her legs, not a hair in sight. Roger gazed back at the girl. No, at the young woman. There was more to her than beauty. There was something stone-hard, something mature and intelligent behind her face. It made him crave more.

"I don't have," he began, not looking at her, "a side. I'm just me." Why was he not reaching for her, grabbing her when he had the chance? Why was he wasting his time, and uttering stupid words that would merely turn her away? Sexual desire was one of the few desires he had: he wasn't a selfish person, he just wanted what all males did. But this time, this time it was different.

"I know you, Roger. I know what kind of person you are. And maybe you don't have two sides, but who you're trying to appear isn't who you are." Wisdom rang in her low, accented voice.

"You don't know me," he insisted. "I met you only days ago. You can't-you can't know me." Swallowing, he stared at her, and she stared back for a moment. Just a moment. That was all he needed to drink her in.

"Alright," she gave in easily, not flinching as she looked down to inspect her nails. When her eyes raised again, they were even brighter than before. Was that possible? "I don't know you. So I will find out." Exchanging silent looks, the boy suddenly whirled on his feet. Without looking back, he walked away with stinging eyes.

She doesn't know me. No one knows me. No one knows, no one knows…A dangerous tear fought its way to his eyes as his mother came to mind, and he wiped at it furiously.

It was true, Mathalina thought as the boy trudged away. I do know you. I know everything about you. I know where you were born, your full name, what school you go to, and I know who you are. It was strange to see the back of his head, a name that had only weeks ago meant nothing. Just another life portfolio to go through. She had studied each and every file in her stack, and all 24 faces (along with everything known about them) clung to her mind permanently. And none of it would ever be forgotten. Yes, she knew exactly who Roger was, and how he had behaved since his mother's unfortunate death. She even had the exact date of the death, the hospital she was treated in, and the name of her cancer physician.

It had perturbed Mathalina, at first, when she learned details of the misery and ordeals each one of them had gone through. Only at first.

Poor Joelle. Musing, she flicked a grain of sand off her clothes. The other three sets of the outfit lay buried and hidden in the middle of the jungle. Everything would be safe there, now that the hunters all believed it was where the monster lived. Monsters are everywhere, darlings. So innocent. So easily deceived. Of course, she knew all there was to know about the island, and they did not. It also helped that Mathalina had provided with the necessary tools and resources. Still, part one of her mission was complete. Lying to them was the only way, and it was all intertwined into the elaborate, slowly escalating plan. The rest would eventually be fulfilled without difficulty. Watching them closely, she could see she wouldn't have to do much work.

I do hope I won't have to hurt them. That would be…unnecessary. Glancing at the mystic boy who had captured her attention, she repeated to herself out loud with a sly smile, "Quite unnecessary." It didn't matter what she hoped, though. Nothing was about her. Only the island, and the job at hand mattered.

With the hunters too afraid to go hunting in the forest, the islanders had to find new food resources. It was soon realized how quickly the supply of fruits was running out, especially with some of the younger ones devouring mangos and berries like animals. They weren't even hungry-they had just gotten so used to the abundance of food, they hadn't been cautious. And now the price was to be paid-nearly every fruit tree in the jungle was wiped clean. Only on their third week did Annabelle see the sudden blow.

"We're going to have to fish," she decided. It was the only source of nourishment left. Nature was their opposition now, and their survival hung threateningly on its provisions. With no questions asked, a group was made to take hunting spears, and attempt spear fishing in the ocean. Good. At least they still listened. Surely, it wouldn't be long before the people started to break apart. From the little she knew about psychology, the islanders were in for some rough times, mentally and physically. Annabelle frowned, worrying. Only a matter of time…

Of course, she didn't know just how little time.

People weren't their only enemy.

The headaches were coming on again.

Damn it, the girl said silently. While everyone else slept, she rubbed her forehead in a futile attempt to make the pain go away. Auburn hair swept into her eyes, and she shook it off furiously. She thought they were gone. She thought she could sleep soundly at night again. Never underestimate the power of nature.

Ruby knew enough about the wilderness to register that they were from lack of food. Water, she knew there was plenty of. No one even guessed that she had been going up to the lake she found on the first day, creating her own pile of supplies. They were hidden, buried deep in the woods. In case something happened, in case she needed a quick getaway.

But she also knew that the berries in the forest were running out rapidly. And her body wasn't getting nearly enough of the nutrition it needed. Back home, Ruby lived on a 1500 calorie diet. Carbs, fiber, fat, protein, calcium: these were all essential for sustaining her energy. If it went on like this, and even the pigs were gone from the forest, there would be no telling when she would die. Not just her, but everyone else on the island. Without proper nourishments, death was inevitable.

She knew Annabelle had assigned groups to fish, but it wasn't as easy as it looked.

If it were, I would've tried. Ruby snorted without humor.

The final thought that came to her mind was her sister: how would Rosaline possibly survive on her own? She couldn't, that was the answer. Neither she nor any of the other clueless morons seemed to realize this quite yet. I need a place where I can take her, if there is an emergency. Ruby could gather as much food and water as possible. Collect everything left, leave nothing for the others. Not exactly a generous notion, but she was a survivalist, and nothing was going to get in the way of her life or her sister's. As much as she hated the little brat, she was still flesh and blood. Her blood.

That's it, she settled as she tried to close her eyes. The pain was still there. I'll keep her safe. I'll keep that little bitch safe. It was the only thought that could help her return to sleep.

"Hey, Jack," she fluttered, hair flipping and lashes batting.

Old tricks. But they'd worked before. They'd always worked.

There, minutes before sunset, as the fire billowed with fresh smoke, Rosaline stood in front of the gorgeous boy. He was truly perfect. She'd had the best before. She'd had football players, soccer captains, MVPs of the basketball team. None of them were like Jack. Head of the rugby team. A sport she had never even seen. Hair blonder than hers, with light streaks that shone under the constant sun. And eyes, stunning, captivating eyes. Blue and crystal-clear and more beautiful than the tropical sea that surrounded the island.

Yes, Rosaline had to have him. She had to have Jack.

"Hi." A short response returned from his lips. Her own curled disdainfully, unsatisfied. She needed more.

"So, Jack, I'm sure you're exhausted from everything that happened this morning." He didn't move as she slithered to his side, looking up with fake-innocent eyes. "You could use a little…something, don't you think?" Hands crawled up to those toned, muscular shoulders. "Something to keep the stress away…"

She gasped in shock when he wrenched himself out of her fingers. Without hesitating, she followed the boy as he marched up the beach. There was still a chance. A chance to make him hers.

"Well, if you don't want a massage, maybe you want to take a walk? By the beach? We could watch the sunset, it's so-"

"STOP bugging me!" The beautiful eyes turned cold as he scowled irritatedly at her. "Now just…go and do whatever, kid." And then he was gone.

Rosaline turned slowly, her face paled. No, no, this isn't happening. I've always…I mean I've never been…

Her friends waited, arms crossed and clearly disappointed.

"I can't believe he actually, like, rejected you!" One cried out in disbelief.

Me neither.

"Look at him, fawning over that slut." It was true. She turned her face to see Jack approaching Mathalina by the fire. The beautiful skank. No, she wasn't even pretty. She was just stealing every guy on the island. Not that any of those other losers mattered. Clearly, Annabelle was no longer any sort of competition now that she was here.

Swallowing back the stupid tears, the blonde flared her nose, glaring out into the distance. As the girls awaited her response, she simply remembered: I am still beautiful. I am still popular, and any guy back home would take me. I am still Rosaline.

"Bastard," she managed to utter.