Aleena+B

= Darkest Night  =

"Squinting into the sun, Bailey noted the island curved around back towards her, like a crescent moon."

Paradise
The sounds of canvas scraping against rock and water lapping at the shore broke Bailey from her dreams. Rising into consciousness her eyelids parted stiffly, sunburnt and raw with salt water. Above her was only a vast compass of sapphire sky, whispering with touches of thin white clouds. Groaning, Bailey propped herself up on her elbow and found her entire body in disrepair. Her muscles were sore and stiff, the grey shirt she wore over her dark jeans was soggy, stretched, and boasting rips; and her right shoe was nowhere to be seen. Her brow furrowed as she considered what may have happened. In this moment Bailey’s mind was blank, not an idea indicating where she was, or why she was there.

Struggling to stand, Bailey rose from the yellow raft and looked around. It was as if she had stepped onto the cover of a traveller’s magazine. She stood on a white beach, the sun illuminating the sand, causing the light to dance across the ground. Beyond the beach lay a lush green paradise, screaming with life and sounds of the jungle. Bailey almost smiled -- almost. Squinting into the sun, Bailey noted the island curved around and back towards her, like a crescent moon. The beach lined the coast, and a mountainous point jutted out of the jungle in the distance. Behind her, the turquoise expanse of water flowed for miles in every direction. Just beyond the shore, a purple field of coral lay beneath the surface. Bailey looked closely and saw colourful fish and other creatures frolicking in its coves.

A soft padding sounded from behind Bailey and to the left. She whipped around to see a man -- no, a boy -- no more than 18, struggling up the coast dragging a yellow deflated life raft behind him. He had seen her and was approaching as quickly as he could manage. Bailey just stood, and awaited his arrival. She noted his black short hair and muscled body. He was strong but his face portrayed a softness that naturally radiated from him. And then he spoke.

“Are you alright?” he huffed, looking at her dishevelled clothes and current state of shock. “I saw you wash up from across the bay,” he said shyly. “I assumed you were a floater.”

Bailey stared at the guy, the skin of her eyes bunched around them and she frowned. Who was he, and why was he talking to her? The guy looked closely at her and asked again, this time, quietly:

“Are you okay?”



“Mineral water or Coke?” asked the stewardess with a plastic smile glued to her lips.

“Nothing for me thanks,” Bailey muttered looking up from her laptop. She had just finished her last article for her boss back in Alaska, where she had been apprenticing abroad for months. The stewardess tucked a stray hair back into place, her smile vanishing for a slight moment, as she pushed the cart to the row behind her. Bailey wiped the sweat from beneath her light brown bangs and shrugged out of her winter parka. Silently, she lifted the window covering and peered at the greenery far beneath her. It had been forever since she had seen the pleasant greens of Australia. Bailey smiled to herself and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes, as she thought of seeing her boyfriend Benny again.

Drifting in and out of dreams, Bailey found herself on a roller coaster, so high in the sky she could see nothing but clouds beneath her. The coaster climbed higher and higher, the crimson track gleaming under the hot sun. Then she was falling, her body weightless. Screams arose around her and she reached for the safety bar. It evaporated in her touch.

Everything was dark. Her mind was blank, yet she was aware vaguely of herself moving and others around her. She knew she was wearing a life vest, and was aware she was plummeting towards the earth. Only when she was pushed did her mind begin to refocus. She was pushed out the door, armed with a long yellow bag as her only defense. The air whizzed by, ripping her hair from her face and threatening to loosen her grip on her bag. The air was wrenched from her lungs and Bailey shut her eyes. Then, as suddenly as she had been pushed, she was in the water, enveloped from head to toe in spastic darkness. Her eyes were open, yet she failed to see through the ferocity of the bubbles. She reached for the string of her yellow bag and was yanked towards the surface. As Bailey broke into the air, she gasped and scrambled up and into the center of the life raft and dissolved into unconsciousness.



Bailey blinked and looked up at the guy. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she murmured with a rough voice, only then realizing the state of her existence. She rubbed her sore eyes clean of salt and stood there in the unrelenting afternoon sun.

“I’m Dean,” he said, looking away and blushing. “You’re the first alive person I’ve seen all afternoon.”

“Bailey,” she eventually spoke, stepping out of her beached life raft for the first time and onto the baking sand. “How long have you been here?” Dean turned back to her, his face flushed with exhaustion and embarrassment.

“Um, I think, about, three hours maybe,” Dean gulped and stared at Bailey. “I was, uh, making a shelter over on the other side… I should go back there.” Bailey nodded and looked across the bay. Dean looked at her for another few seconds, then turned and hurried back to the niche he had carved out for himself amid the trees. Bailey stared after him, and began to amble across the beach. The sand burned her foot, but she barely noticed as she soaked up the environment around her.

"Struggling to stand, Bailey rose from the yellow raft and looked around."

Found
Entering the jungle, Bailey’s clothes clung to her body, and she felt moisture on her face. The jungle was alive around her; the birds sang beautiful, intricate tunes, and the greenery swayed with the wind, making exotic plants visible for Bailey to admire. Slowly, the jungle seemed to consume her, as she picked her way through the foliage. It was virtually untouched and raw in its current state. Bailey figured there were no humans on this island.

As she crept through the underbrush, Bailey thought of Dean. He was about 18 years old, seemed quite strong, yet when she spoke to him, he seemed to draw within himself. Maybe it was just a reaction to what had just happened. She shrugged and continued on.

It had hit Bailey earlier: the fact that they may never be found, or that she may die here. Yet Bailey was glad to not have died during the crash, to have hope. She would hold onto hope until she was rescued, or died here.

A rustle in front of her snapped her eyes back into focus as she zeroed in on the movement. Slow, soft pads on the wet earth began to come closer and closer, and Bailey saw a dark form, lurking just beyond a wall of vines. Crouching behind a low-lying, leafy plant, Bailey peered through a gap at the approaching form. A tall blonde, a few years older than Bailey herself, stepped through the vines and onto the trail. She was scratched and bloody, with mud caked on her skin and clothes. Limping slightly, Bailey noticed a torn piece of her t-shirt was wrapped around her leg where a deep gash was bleeding. Rising from her place of concealment, Bailey spoke to the girl.

“Hi,” she spoke with a scratchy voice, thick with nervousness. The taller girl spun, holding a knife in her hand, a wild look in her eyes. She assessed bailey for a moment, then lowered her knife and walked towards her.

“I am so happy I found you!” She breathed. “We thought we were the only ones who survived.” Bailey nodded and looked her up and down again.

“We?” Bailey inquired, looking around.

“Oh,” the girl shook her read, remembering. “I ran into this other girl hours ago, but she doesn’t remember anything. I went to get her food, but my leg,” she gestured to her bandage, “won’t let me get very far.”

“I met this boy; he looked strong, like he could help. He’s back on the beach,” Bailey pointed back the direction she came. “We should get your friend and bring her to him.” Bailey started for the area that the girl had just come from, but she stopped her.

“My name is Jane,” she said, slipping the knife into her cargo shorts’ pocket.

“Bailey,” she stuck out her hand and shook Jane’s. Her grip was strong, and contained emotional strength Bailey had never known. She looked up to her face and saw hope as well, buried behind sad eyes.

“We should go this way,” Bailey croaked, “and find your friend.”

“We can’t. There’s a massive volcano in the way. With all the rocks and boulders, I don’t know how I managed to get here alive. I think the only way back to her is to use the beach.” Jane pointed in the direction Bailey had just pointed earlier. “East,” she said, staring at the sun.

“East?” Bailey asked, also staring at the sky, wondering how the molten ball of gas could somehow tell her which direction she was going. The girls started shuffling through the brush and talking about themselves. It turned out Jane liked astronomy, and could tell you almost everything there is to know about the sky and stars. Bailey told her about her apprenticeship in Alaska and her boyfriend Benny, back home.

The whole while walking, the girls searched for food. There were no fruit, just a desolate jungle, filled with beautiful plants. //Beautiful, but not practical,// Bailey thought. The animals were also very scarce. They saw only birds, and the evidence of maybe squirrels.

Whist peering through some vines, Bailey spotted something glimmer though the greenery. It puzzled her, and for a moment she stood, unable to take action on the discovery. Jane turned and asked what was wrong, but all Bailey could do was point.

Jane hefted the vines away and stepped into the clearing. It wasn’t always a clearing. All around were smashed trees and crumpled plants, the beautiful flowers wilting away. Looking farther you saw the real carnage. The mangled remnants of the plane jutted from the water and the tail rested on the beach. The girls gawked at it and crept closer. They had to watch where they stepped, as shards and shrapnel stood poised, ready to gash their feet and ankles open. The small plane sat on its belly, with its guts spilled out before it. Bailey saw luggage and hunks of metal floating in the sea, some miles away. Useless.

Bailey approached the open evacuation door and peered in. It was dark, but Bailey could tell what the shapes were. She gagged and took a step out, gathering up some fresh air in her lungs. She entered again, this time not letting her eyes focus on the faces. She could tell they were all dead, from their missing parts, and necks hanging in unnatural ways. Holding back screams of uncontrollable emotions, Bailey quickly surveyed for useful items. A bucket lay in the isle, and Bailey retrieved it. She turned towards the captain’s quarters and saw nothing worth seeing twice. She left the plane and vowed not to return.

Jane was waiting with a sullen stare. Handing her the bucket, Bailey made her way to the water, where some objects remained. Wading in, she grabbed at some sort of kit, when a bright sting originated from her calf and climbed all the way up to her chest. Bailey screamed. A crimson jelly fish floated just inches from her, and was coming back for another sting. Bailey ran out of the water and scrambled onto the beach, clutching her leg.

“It BURNS!” she yelled, clutching Jen’s arm.

Jane helped her walk until the pain subsided, and they reached the beach. Dean was across the bay, with two flimsy looking shelters resting in the shade. He noticed them walking and ran to help. He sat them down and gave them both some water he gathered from wet plants. Once they had told him all that had happened, they stared out to the sea, and then back to the volcano.

Night was coming upon them now, and there was nothing they could do until daybreak of tomorrow. They lay on their backs in the sand and stared up at the stars.

"You'd be dead in minutes if you ate those."

Permanent Endings
Rolling onto her back, Bailey groaned in pain. Her leg still scalded from the jellyfish sting. Prying her eyes open, she looked above her and saw the palm leaves resting on the branches. The beach was silver with the sun, and the sky was blindingly bright; another day in paradise. As she made her was painfully down the beach, Bailey saw Jane and Dean tying a large blue tarp to two palm trees like a hammock with the bucket from the wreckage beneath it.

“What are you guys doing, and where did you get that tarp?” Bailey questioned when she got close enough to the other survivors.

“The tarp was in the kit you got from the water. We are setting it up to collect rain water.” Jane looked towards the sky, “Looks like it’s going to rain. See, the rain will fall on the tarp, and then spill into the bucket. It was Dean’s idea.” Jane smiled at Dean who blushed and looked back to his work. “There was also a whistle in the kit,” Jane started again and pointed at the plastic whistle hanging from Dean’s neck. “Don’t know what good that’ll do, but maybe we could blow it in case of emergency, or if a ship passed by.”

Bailey nodded and told them she was going to look for some food.

“There’s not much around,” Dean said quietly. “I’ve seen some edible plants, but won’t do us any good unless we can cook them into a broth. For that we’d need water and a fire.”

“Hey, what about that other girl you said was on the other side of the volcano,” Bailey looked at Jane. “Can she help us any?”

“I don’t know. She was pretty banged up and rough sounding. There was something about her -- something in her eyes that wasn’t right. Let’s just say I was glad to have found you two.” Jane’s gaze drifted over the mountainous region of the far side of the island, searching for some sort of reason to believe she was still there. “I’m sure she’ll be alright until we manage to get to her…” Jane’s voice faded and her thoughts enveloped her mind.

“Maybe we should do that today,” Dean speculated. “We’ve made a little shelter and a water collection system, so we have nothing else better to do. Plus, on our way, we can look for food.”

Bailey stared at Dean. That was the most he had ever spoken to her.

“Uh, yeah, sure, we could do that today.” Bailey stared at him from the corner of her eye and saw that he was watching her as well. They both looked down in embarrassment.

Foraging into the forest, they walked silently in a line until the sun began to drift behind the trees. There was no fruit on the trees. Jane discovered a bunch of small blue berries on a bush, but Dean warned her against it.

“That’s Nightlock, a deadly berry found only in the tropics. You’d be dead in minutes if you ate those.”

Bailey stared at the berries for a long moment, and then turned at caught up with the other two.

* * * * * * It was hours later when they saw it: the great volcano loomed over them like a lion over its prey. It was late afternoon, verging on evening. The sharp, gray, mountainous rocks cowered to either side of the leering volcano, quivering in anticipation of an eruption. They saw no way around the dense mass of rocks and thick foliage. Their paths were only partially lit by the rays of sun shining through the palms above.

“Let’s go look for some way to get through,” Jane suggested, peering between some low-hanging vines. Bailey picked her way through the mess, stepping only on the flat rocks. They were nearing the far side of the island, and the faint whisper of the ocean on the sand was the only sound heard in the thick air. Bailey’s bangs and clothes stuck to her skin, and she found herself desperate for food and water. One of the bushes she came across was ripe with berries, but they looked quite similar to that night berry Dean had shown her before. She stuck a few in her pocket just in case, and traveled on.

Bailey stepped out of a grove of trees and was on the sand. It was softer and white with flecks of gold shimmering in the sun. This side of the beach was much more beautiful than the one they had made camp on. Staring around in awe, Bailey’s mind drifted off into thought and she found herself sitting in the sweet sand.

* * * * * * * * A shrill scream from within the forest jolted Bailey back to reality. The sound came from the whistle which hung from Dean’s neck. Bailey bolted down the beach in the direction of which it came. The screech came again, long and warbling, then suddenly died off. Bailey veered right, into the jungle. Following broken branches and trampled leaves, she eventually came across the source of the sound, lying broken in the wet palm leaves. It was confusion at first, then fear. Bailey sunk low, glancing around her and through the gaps of green.

Suddenly, Dean burst through the wall of vines and ran straight into Bailey, throwing her to the ground. They scrambled up in a tangle of limbs, panting and holding tight to one another.

“What’s going on?” Bailey squealed, the panic rising in her voice.

“Jane, she was here, and then she wasn’t,” Dean stammered, eyes wide with fear. “I gave her the whistle, and she was blowing it, then she – she was just… gone.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “We need to get to high ground.”

“Should we climb the volcano?” Bailey’s eyes drifted up the side until her view was obstructed by trees. Dean nodded, and they trotted towards the summit. The slope was steep, but they were unfazed, racing on adrenalin. A ridge appeared, and a flat plateau spread out before them. Bailey and Dean stopped to catch their breath and scanned the ground below for Jane… or something worse.

The sun was setting now, behind the thick black clouds, bloated with rain.

“We might have to stay the night here,” Dean said looking around. “I’ll go get some fire wood.” Dean looked at Bailey longingly. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” Bailey’s gaze lingered on Dean’s, conveying a silent message of fear.

“Be safe,” she whispered. He nodded and disappeared into the forest behind them. Bailey sat under a palm tree, clutching her legs to her chest; holding herself together. With the sun set, she could only see the outline of the trees and the cliff in front of her. The clouds opened up then, the large splatters of rain soaking the ground around her.

The leaves rustled behind her, and Bailey turned but couldn’t see Dean through the trees.

“Are you okay?” Bailey asked through the rain. Dean didn’t answer, but the footsteps continued to get closer. A figure appeared through the trees, but it was not Dean. The figure was female. “Jane?” The figure said nothing, but advanced through the wall of palms. The woman was older that Bailey, with dark brown hair. She was quite dirty, with scratches and gashes all over her. She favoured her one leg, and Bailey could see why. The ankle was mangled slightly from a break that had not been set properly. She stared at Bailey from behind a blood crusted, puffy eye. “Oh,” Bailey stuttered. “You must be the girl Jane was telling us about. We were going to look for you, and then Jane went missing, and I haven’t heard from Dean…” Bailey’s voice trailed off as her eyes located the smashed shard of a mirror clenched in her fist. It was dirty, covered in a dark substance. Bailey’s heart beat faster as she identified the blood.

“My name is Jennifer,” she spoke softly, almost sneering in her words. “Jane left me alone, on the other side of the island for you two.” Bailey looked around herself for something – anything that would help in this situation. Her hand gripped a rock, and then her hand slid into her pocket.

“Well, we were coming to find you today. We were bringing you some food.” Bailey’s hand stuck out, revealing the bunch of blue berries. “It’s the only food we could find on this island.” Jen gave her an inquisitive look, and walked closer to her, examining the berries. She took a few and held them in her hands. Giving Bailey one last look, she plopped them into her mouth and ate them. Bailey almost sighed with relief, but then realized what she had done. Watching her face carefully, Bailey stood, allowing the rain to soak through her clothes. Only minutes now.

Jen’s face flickered, and her eyebrows knit together. She placed her hand on her stomach then sat down quickly with a thump on the damp earth. Her lips began to form words, but no sound escaped them.

“You okay?” Bailey asked, frightened she would figure out her plot and off her before the berries took hold.

Jen lifted her head and stared into Bailey’s eyes. Jen’s eyes appeared blue, but the colour seemed to have been drained, like the soul from a body in the wake of death. She blinked at Bailey, then her mouth opened, revealing a big toothy grin; the teeth, like fangs, were stained blue with the dye of the berry. A permanent reminder of what she had done. It was getting darker now; the sky was only lit by the waning moon and a few visible stars.

Jen reached out with her arm and slashed at Bailey with the shard of mirror.

Barely avoiding the jagged glass, Bailey jumped back and ran from the girl. Her eyes were blinded with tears from the wind and the rain obstructed her view. She dashed through bush, smacking into a few trees as she stumbled through the forest. It was a single fallen tree that brought her down. A rotting, and useless dead tree was jutting from the ground, and Bailey tripped. She sprawled and rolled over herself until she was bruised at beaten beyond repair, at the lip of a cliff.

She managed to get to her feet once again, but the girl was already there, her mouth dripping blood tinged with blue, her hand gripping the shard so strongly it cut into her own flesh.

Bailey was on the edge, her feet pushing rocks over making dramatic crashes below her. Jen stepped closer, and Bailey could not move. It was suicide or be murdered.

Jen grinned again, her teeth sharpened to rough points, the blood dangling out of her mouth. With one more swipe she caught Bailey’s shirt, and her foot slipped off the edge. Her balance was off, and she fell, almost in slow motion, over the edge -- her body disappearing into the pitch darkness below.

Jen slumped to the earth as Bailey fell. There was no thought in her mind as Bailey fell, only the thumping of her heart as she dropped a thousand feet into the sea.

There was no life on the island that night, and the only sound was the ocean softly brushing against the white sand, and the thumping of propellers as a helicopter passed overhead.

"There was no life on the island that night, and the only sound was the ocean softly brushing against the white sand, and the thumping of propellers as a helicopter passed overhead."