Hellooooooo my dearies. How are you? Hmmmmm I want more votes gosh darnit. And just so you know, it's not a poll; it's just reviewing and private messaging.

Two weeks after leaving the island we were floating in the sea/ocean (I don't know, I was never any good at geometry… geology…. Geography. Yeah, that.

Let's try that again.

We were still on the raft, looking for land that hopefully had survived all the destruction done to our world so far. But that was a little much to hope for.

"Are we out of food?" Kory dared to ask. Fairbanks glared at him but checked one of the backpacks anyways.

Fresh out.

"God help all of us!" Jay cries. I let out a small laugh but then realize that we're screwed.

"Oh my god!" The long and miserable silence was broken by Texas who is screeching at the top of her lungs.

"What-what?" Nick asks suddenly waking up and flopping around.

"I see… omigod!"

"Out with it." Reaver demands.

"Land!" She claps her hands together.

"You're shitting me." Kory says.

"Nope!" She laughs and sits down.

"Row, slaves!" Russia yells at Kory and Reaver. They cower and grab their "ores."

The sun is beating down hot even with the cold water splashing us every few seconds. Kory and Reaver were sweating from the work of rowing. But the land mass in the different grew larger and larger. You could almost feel the hope rising in amongst the group. It took hours, but we finally reached the beach's surface.

"Yes, thank you, thank you!" Nick kissed the ground in a very cliché fashion. I myself had very much missed the land. It was so great to return to it… Even if it was in the form of an uninhabited island.

"Who are you?" A new voice. Oh sweet Jesus. It was a Jamaican accent.

"We're…" I turn around. "We're screwed aren't we?" The Jamaican man nods.

WE were taken (by force) to a secretive location placed strategically in the middle of the jungle. It was a huge pit in the ground, four trees place around it. Small shacks were built along the giant branches of the canopy. But from our view (in the middle of the pit) life was not so pleasant.

"State your names." A new guy. He's very stout with a scruffy, white beard and sunglasses. He's wearing combat boots and pacing along the edge of the pit.

"I'm Minneapolis. This is Kory, Bipolar, Russia, Bavaria, Reaver, Texas, Jay, Nick, Fairbanks, Charlotte and..." I trail off, realizing there was no one else to call. The guy (let's just call him commander, he kind of looks like one) raises an eyebrow but doesn't stop pacing.

"I'm Commander-"

"Hah!" I yell. I suddenly realize that was outside of my mouth…. And I had meant it only as a thought.

"Strike one. I'm Commander R.T. Jordan. We are a small tribe of survivors living on the outer perimeter of Australia. You seem not to be of any threat, but I will warn you now." He drops his voice down low, "I am watching you. Screw up once, and I sharpen a stick on both ends." I briefly wonder what he means, but quickly realize I didn't want to find out. The commander walks away and the Jamaican takes his place.

"You are free to go about the village as you please. If you need anything feel free to talk to Commander or me, Moi. Talk to one of us before leaving the village." He nods and leaves in the opposite direction of the Commander.

Later that evening we found ourselves in different shelters. We were high above the ground in the canopy of the trees, and if you got up from the soft bed on the floor to look out the window you could see the rest of the forest and the clearing where the pit was below you. But from here on the floor you could see the stars dancing in the dim light of the moon. They twirled and leapt but somehow kept their spot so high above me. All was quiet despite the soft snoring of Russia and the spasm every few minutes coming from Bipolar. Somehow we had ended up as "Shelter-Mates"… the first three.

I had almost fallen asleep. Almost. Then a piercing scream filled the air. Bipolar suffers from a more harsh spasm and wakes herself up. Russia pulls out her gun and points it directly at me before even opening her eyes. She pops one open and glares at me.

"Vat da hell vas that?"

"Someone was screaming." I shiver.

"A guy." Bipolar adds. Russia's head pops up as we all realize what happened.

"Kory." She hisses. She pushes herself up at the same time I do. Bipolar crawls to the door.

A drum was beating. The slight glow of the fire sent chills running up and down my spine. A tear slipped, another one… that one wasn't mine. Charlotte whimpers and coughs. Russia and Bipolar stand close to me, shaking with silent sobs. Ominous.

Nick shakes his head, frustrated. Bavaria sighs, Texas cries. Fairbanks wouldn't even come. Reaver is stone. Jay's silent but effective.

A body is laid upon a row of branches. Leaves set out beneath it. One flower rests at its side… The flower was dead and poisonous. But I wouldn't tell anyone that. The body is marched past us. The drum quickens. The body is thrown into a new pit. It reeks of death and sorrow. Patches of blood splatter the wooden door covering the pit. The body is gone.

Two eyes, a mouth, a nose… Dead. Hair, jaw, eyebrows, ears. But nothing past that. No neck, no body. Just a wooden stick, sharpened at both ends. Nothing was real anymore. We were all dead.

The head disappears, soon the drumming stops, people go. I stay. Who was left? Anyone?

"Let's go." Says someone. Time passes. How much? Who could say. "Please." Softer now. The voice grabs me by the arm and pulls me away from the clearing. Pulls me toward the beach. The water. Water...

Time's ticking… the death clock is tick… tick… ticking. You there with the application that has not been made a character. Don't worry, next chapter most likely. Reaves: Charlotte will be more included as time passes and people die.

Thank you all.

Keep voting.

Until… next time…?

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