Taylor+Mac

__**Chapter One**__ Katherine Jenkins twirled a chunk of jet-black hair around her index finger. Her snow-white teeth flashed as she beamed broadly; she was in the midst of persuading the pilot to let her sit up in first class. Several seats were open, so surely it wouldn’t be that much of a deal for her to switch from up from economy. The pilot’s dark brown eyes narrowed at her; he was probably wondering how she got into the cockpit in the first place. When he nodded his assent, Katherine, who liked to be called Kit, leaned down to give him a brief hug. She chose the wrong time to do so, because just as she bent over, the place jerked suddenly and sent her crashing on top of the control panel. Several levers and buttons were smashed into, and red lights started to flash in the cabin. A woman’s automated voice came over the intercom and said something about oxygen levels, but her words meant nothing to Kit. She rushed out of the cabin, and into a slightly chilled passenger area. She slid into a seat several rows back and kept her purse strap dangling from the crook of her arm. The man beside her looked at her with inquisitive dark brown eyes. He was of East Indian descent, and introduced himself as Rayman. One of her manicured hands raised up, shaking gently, but she put it down after a few seconds. Afterwards, she smiled politely and told him her name, and laid her head back. In a matter of moments, she was asleep. * * * Kit groaned as she opened her pale green eyes, which had been bombarded by a blinding light. She arched her back, and barely had time to stretch her lithe leg muscles before she realised she was not on the plane she had fallen asleep on. Instead she was sprawled out on a white sandy beach. The shore was lined with cracked pink and blue shells, and tiny waves swelled at the water’s edge. Father out the waves crested at high peaks, and Kit could see no islands on the horizon. Her gaze travelled down her body. Her tanned legs had several small scrapes, and her wrist ached horribly, but other than that she did not detect that anything was wrong with her. As she stood, she surveyed the area behind her. There was a man and woman about twenty metres inland. She began the small trek towards them; perhaps they could tell her about the situation she was in. “Oh, hello,” the woman rasped, her chestnut coloured hair was fanned out erratically around her face, but she seemed calm otherwise, “I see you've finally decided to join us.” Kit wrinkled her petite nose and replied back snappily, “Well, darling, I was just sleeping on this lovely beach, contemplating what exactly I’m doing here.” Katherine’s face screwed up and both of her hands balled into fists, her long nails dug into her pink, fleshy palms and she seemed to be having an argument with herself under her breath. Her emerald eyes flashed angrily as she planted her stocking-clad feet as firmly as she could on the soft white sand. “No need to argue,” The man quipped. Kit noticed him as the person she had sat down beside in first class. The woman rolled her round sapphire eyes and stuck out a pale hand, on which blue veins were prominently displayed, “My name’s Erin Hunt.” “Katherine Jenkins, but you can call me Kit.” Erin nodded absently. “Do I get to know how I got here?” Kit prodded gently. “Why don’t we wait for Marco to get back, and then we can all talk?” Ray suggested tentatively. “He’s just, um, relieving himself.” Kit’s face scrunched up when Ray’s words sunk in. She did not need to know the details of where the unknown man was. Several moments had passed before a pint-sized man trotted towards them. He wasn’t just little, he was a legitimate dwarf. He couldn’t have been more than four and a half feet tall. He was rather plump for such a little person, and his bald head reflected quite a bit of light in the midday sun. His eyes were a dull gray colour, and his mouth was drawn into a thin line. “Sorry I took so long,” he panted. “I couldn’t find a good place.” “Um, ew? I don’t think any of us needed to know that,” Kit stated. The man shrunk back and plopped down on the sand, folding his legs and putting his hands on his knees. “Sorry, sorry…” “Okay, I’ll tell you what happened…” Ray started to tell Katherine about what had happened. Apparently, the oxygen levels had dropped inside the cockpit, and the pilot had passed out. Nobody had even noticed until it was too late and the plane had started to nosedive into the Atlantic Ocean. This was not the way Kit had imagined flying from Italy to Mexico. She was supposed to go from one vacation point to the other. Not end up on a stupid little island. Who cared if Erin had gotten the life raft and heaved her unconscious body into it? She probably would have been happier dead. After her husband’s ‘death’ nothing was going right for her. She had to live with the guilt of knowing what she did very day of her life. In fact, she probably would have committed suicide by now if she wasn’t so afraid of it not working properly. “I just was to know one more thing,” Katherine started. “Where is everybody else?” Ray and Erin shared a look. “This is it; we’re the only known survivors.” The woman responded with sad eyes. “But your purse was firmly grasped in your hands, even though you were unconscious, so we have that. Also, Ray always keeps first-aid supplies in his carry-on bag, so we have that as well.” Erin pointed at a pair of water-logged bags. Kit grimaced as she saw her ruined handbag; it had cost her three thousand dollars. “And when I scoured the beaches, I found a pocket knife and an old plastic bucket,” Marco continued. Kit scowled. This was going to be nothing like an episode of //Survivor.//

=__**Chapter Two**__= //From The Perspective of Katherine “Kit” Jenkins//

As the late afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, I could feel a burning sensation on my tanned shoulders begin for the umpteenth time. We had been on this wretched island for three horrid weeks. I spent that time watching Ray and Erin tactfully climb up coconut and banana trees, start a fire with just sticks and wispy bits of grass and create a small lean-to. But all I did was profit from the fruits of their labour. Fishing wasn’t any option, because fish seemed to avoid the isle as if it like it had some sort of disease. Although I was not the only one who just messed around, because Marco did even less to contribute than me, and I hadn’t anticipated that it could even be possible! I missed meat, though. And the stupid teenagers kept bombarding me with stupid, unimportant questions, or they tell me what to do. For some reason they think Marco would taste better than a steak. I think they might have smuggled illegal substances or something onto this island, but maybe they just like islands? I boisterously sighed and rubbed my back up against the palm tree I was leaning on, eyeing Marco, who was flopping around in the sea foam like a finicky fish. Maybe the teens were right. It couldn’t be too hard to catch Marco, and take him down, especially if I used the teeny tiny pocket knife Ray had found while he was scavenging the dense forests. Marco would never see it coming, and I would finally get meat in my belly. I needed something with actual substance; fruit does not fill you up. Foolish thoughts raced around in my head as I planned Marco’s demise. But one thought kept coming back to my mind, would the others be mad? Then I decided that I really didn’t care what the others had to say about the matter. //“But they’ll come for you eventually, I heard the talking about taking you out yesterday,”// a redheaded girl whispered hoarsely, interrupting my intense brainstorming, “You need to stay ahead of the game. Show them who the real leader is.” I nodded, showing my understanding, and returned to camp to find the pocketknife. Ray kept it in his backpack, since he was the only one who used it. I had to make sure I could take it without being seen. I tiptoed past a sleeping Erin and rummaged around his bag as swiftly as I could. When I had found it, nimble fingers flicked the blade open. I shoved the exposed switchblade up my tattered shirt sleeve. When I returned to the beach, sure enough, Marco was still frolicking in the sea. Today, I would feel no regret, because today was a do-or-die situation. Choosing to die will never be an option for me. With vigor, I sprinted down the sand and bounced around in the water. “Oh, hello there, Kit!” Marco shouted in obvious surprise. “Lovely day, isn’t it.” “Fantastic,” I snarled as I shoved the blade into his neck. He gurgled somewhat before he collapsed in the water, a burgundy red pool seeped out from around the dead-weight body that I lugged to shore. I pulled it to camp, and left him by the fire. Then I sauntered over to the snoozing Erin and crudely poked her in the ribs. “Do me a favour and roast what I put beside the fire, yeah?” I didn’t wait for her response, instead I went for a gentle hike through the forest. * * * When I got back some odd hours later, Ray and Erin were conversing by the fire in hushed tones. I snuck up on them so that I could listen to them. “Sometimes I hear her talking to herself,” Erin whispered. “So what? Almost everybody does that,” Ray replied smoothly. “Yes, but not out loud. And I saw an empty prescription bottle in her bag yesterday. What if she’s crazy?” “I think you’re overreacting; she was probably just doing what she felt was right, even if it wasn’t the best option for anyone to make. It is food, after all, and none of us liked him much anyway.” “I was mistaken, you are obviously the crazy one,” Erin huffed angrily before storming off towards the beach. //“That’s not very nice of her, is it?”// A teenage boy with crow-black hair uttered as he sidled up beside me. “One’s objects should never be touched by another, should they? Maybe you should put her in her place.” I sat there dazed as the boy drifted away as quickly as he came. He was right; it wasn’t very nice of her to go through my things. That prescription bottle was //a// //personal possession.// So what if it ran out two weeks ago? I’m totally and completely in control of my own body. Schizophrenia will never define me. Erin Hunt was going down.

=__**Chapter Three**__= //From The Perspective of Katherine “Kit” Jenkins//

I had to wait until Ray had left before I dealt with Erin. Something told me it would be sufficiently awkward if he watched me kill her. The kids tell me they might have some type of relationship going on, and why would they lie to me? I trust them. A couple hours before dusk is when Ray had left to go for his usual stroll around the island. This would be the only alone time I could have with Erin. I went to Ray’s rucksack and peered into its dark depths; unfortunately, the switchblade was nowhere to be found. I would have to do this the old fashioned way. She sat by the fire on the ‘bench’, which was actually just a log wedged in place with some hefty rocks. She stared into its fiery depths; the flames were dancing wildly, while a plume of dark black smoke drifted towards the greying sky. //Maybe it will rain tonight,// I thought errantly before I brought my mind back to the task at hand. I tiptoed over towards the fire and raised up my wildly shaking hands cautiously. When I was close enough to reach her, I took a quick step forward and shoved her cotton-encased body towards the fire; she landed with a thump on the ground and turned around to stare at me. “What the hell is your problem, Kit?” she demanded crossly. That was when I pounced. My calloused fingers wrapped around her lean neck. I applied a slight pressure and growled softly, “Anything you’d like to say before I kill you?” Her round navy eyes widened, and she began to screech madly. She flailed skeletal limbs and unsuccessfully tried to reach up to claw my face with ragged nails. She should really try to clean them— what kind of man would want to date a woman with dirty fingernails? “Oh, shush, love, you’re making a racket,” I softly murmered as I tightened my fingers a substantial amount. She stopped howling and tears began to flow out of her doe-eyes freely. Her face slowly built up to the colour of ripe tomatoes and she stopped trying to kick me. I watched in glee as a blood vessel popped in her right eye; surely it wouldn’t be long now. Her mouth was agape as she tried to gasp for air; her features were now tinged a bluish colour. Things weren’t looking good for Erin Hunt. Several moments later, her head lolled on her neck, and I knew she was dead. I smirked in triumph and hauled the limp body to the fire. I lobbed it in without a second thought. I stepped back two paces and sat down with my legs crossed. The fire consumed her clothing first, and her body began to blister. My pink tongue darted out and licked my thin, cracked lips. I began to laugh, because it was finally done. I was safe. There was nobody out to get me. I don’t know how long I sat there looking at her burning flesh, but it definitely satisfied me to know I was capable of taking care of myself. My thoughts were interrupted by a quick gasp behind me. I whipped my body around to come face-to-face to Ray. His pair of milk chocolate eyes met my own sparkling green ones. A shaky hands rose to cover his mouth, and he began to laugh hysterically. He crouched on the ground, and shifted his hands so that they were on either side of his head. He rocked back and forth slowly, as his brain processed what he was seeing. His mouth opened several times, but no words were uttered for several minutes. “I can’t… Oh my God. Kit, what did you do?” “She was a threat, and I dealt with it. She won’t be bothering us anymore.” I shrugged and turned back to the fire. I figured he would be okay tomorrow, or maybe the day after that. But I had been so wrong. The next thing I knew, I was pinned to the ground, with what I assumed were Ray’s knees on my shoulder blades. He flipped me over quickly and stepped on my wrists so that I couldn’t move my arms. He was at least one hundred pounds heavier than I was, even with the weight he lost from being on the island. “I’m so sorry, Katherine. I really don’t want to do this,” he said, his voice quavering slightly. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the dull red switchblade I had been looking for earlier. “Do what, Ray?” I queried. This was an odd, twisted game he was playing with me. He crouched down as best as he could, with his loafer-clad feet still planted firmly on my wrists. That was when he plunged the knife into my chest. I gasped, and I briefly glimpsed the faces of several saddened teens for a before my vision went dim.