Mike+B

__A Christmas Vacation__

**Ch. 1 Mayday**

The deafening roar of the turbines upset Dennis’ stomach as flight 721 forced away from gravity’s grip. Dennis was never fond of planes, and had consistently felt ill prior to takeoff. And although David was an experienced excursionist, he could never convince Dennis on how safe air travel was. Dennis and David, along with Mike and Kyle, were heading southwest to the Christmas Islands, off the coast of Indonesia. The vacation had been organized months in advance, all to escape the frigid weather of the Windy City. Unanimously, the location was decided on because of its mild climate; on the other hand, none of them had ever travelled near that region of the world. Exploring a location filled with culture different than the American traditions would transform their outlook on life.

The flight was a couple hours in, and flight attendants were busy scurrying up and down the aisle, handing snacks and drinks to patrons. There hadn’t been any disturbance during the flight so far, so Kyle was able to drowse off easily. Mike and David were tuned in to their iPods, and Dennis was desperately trying to distract his mind away from the aerophobic state it was in. There was a pill he had consumed to help settle his stomach, but he still didn’t feel relaxed. He had an awkward sense that kept nagging at him. //Did I lock my car? Did I turn off all the lights? Did I feed the fish?// These thoughts ran through Dennis’ mind, but he knew that they were not the culprit of his uneasiness.

“Are you feeling okay?” David asked, “You look a little sick.”

“I feel fine, I just don’t like flying,” Dennis replied.

By now, Mike knew they had to be approaching Hawaii, because the angle changed and the aircraft began to descend back down to Earth.

Once they landed, the loudspeaker crackled, and a muffled voice sounded.

“This is your captain speaking. We have just landed at Honolulu International for a brief refuel. We should be departing momentarily.”

With the plane topped with fuel, the rumble from the suspended powerhouses reached an unbearable level, and the thrust lifted the airliner off yet again. Dennis’ stomach had settled during the time spent idling on the ground, but churned with the rising altitude. Prior to takeoff, Mike had rearranged seats with Kyle, and now peered through the pinprick of the structure down to the vast, blue nothingness of the Pacific Ocean.

Two and a half hours after departing from Honolulu, David tried to calm Dennis while the plane experienced minor turbulence. The pilot announced that it would be a more rugged ride while the aircraft streamed through minor lifts due to the warm air current.

“Dennis, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“I know. I just hate flying,” Dennis exclaimed. “I can’t stand this!”

“I used to hate flying too, but think about how many times you hear of a plane crashing,” Mike stated, “Not very often.”

“Thanks, but I still don’t have a good feeling about it,” Dennis beaked.

The turbulent force became violent as they plane travelled farther, and the seatbelt sign had been illuminated. The structure creaked and groaned as the swift current pelted from beneath. Many people throughout began to worry, but the captain assured it would be over soon. The cabin began to feel cold, and Kyle had reached for his jacket. A large burst of air sent the contents of the belly upwards and scattered with a loud crash. A sharp hissing noise echoed throughout the hollow, metal cylinder and oxygen mask crept down from the overhead compartments like spiders sliding from their web. The pressure in the cabin dropped, and the passengers scrambled to put on their masks.

“Stay calm,” ordered the captain. “This should only last momentarily.”

With that, the plane angled downward, engines screeching like the ones pictured in horror films. Dennis fainted as the four experienced the intolerable gut feeling you would experience during a roller coaster ride. Only this was much harsher.

Spiraling out of control, the pilot knew that the jet could not be saved. Out the window to the right, Mike saw the black smoke barreling out of the exploding jet engine, and the glistening of the water becoming clearer. Many were saying last minute prayers before plunging to their deaths, and some had already passed out from anxiety or lack of oxygen.

An immediate stop followed by splurges of water drowned many. David and Kyle had acted in the appropriate manner, securing them the buoyant seat cushion and releasing the emergency exit lever. The pressure of the ocean waters forced the acrylic window inwards, followed by mass amounts of saltwater. David, Dennis, Mike and Kyle had fortunately been seated beside an emergency exit, which made for a rapid escaped from the doomed airliner.



**Ch. 2 Life Support**

The mist from the surf bestirred Mike from his unconscious state. The lustrous orange globe beat down upon the reef, creating a relaxing ambience amongst the isle. Mike felt a knobby protrusion poking into his vertebral column, which made him adjust his position, therefore standing to view his surroundings. The white sand beach was littered with foreign debris and seashells, and there was bank of black volcanic rock behind. Out at sea, the troughs of the mighty waves burst the crisp, clean surface of the salty ocean water with a thunderous crash that could be heard from a mile away. Mike had not become aware of the events that had taken place during his brief comatose, and peered into the distance out to the horizon at the vast azure landscape. To the left, the slight curve of the island showed no signs of human life, and to the right, a grove of palms stood in the blistering heat, adjacent to a towering rock cliff covered in colorful jungle fowl and cuckoos.

Scraps of metal, seat cushions and many other various items littered the formerly flawless strip of seashore. Previously untouched by any form of civilized human life, Mike refused to believe this was reality, even though the signs of wreckage could not be more apparent.

. ..

Being stranded out at sea after a plane crash had been Dennis’ worst fear. Previously at the airport, he contemplated driving to Miami instead of flying to the Christmas Island for a vacation, but he had been pressured into flying, by his other three friends. Even though he suffered from aerophobia. The worst outcome had occurred, and Dennis felt as if he was approaching death. Awkwardly positioned in the sandy surface, his fanny pack bulging into his kidney, he collected his thoughts and replayed them through his head. Yards away laid David, deep in slumber from exhaustion and dehydration. The breeze from the sea was contrasted the immense rays of heat, cast down upon them like a convection oven. The mercury must have been hovering somewhere around one thirteen, because David had to pull himself up the beach to a small oasis where they palms protected his flesh from blistering.

Mike had concluded that he may be the only survivor, but had still risen to search for existence of other beings. Which after minutes of scouting the coastline, he came across a pair of souls, which he identified as Dennis and David. Noticing the current postures of his friends, David strewn out, sweating profusely; and Dennis, curled up in a ball, he scuffled over to see if life remained in them. He agitated the pair, and verified that the beings still had liveliness within them. “What happened?” David questioned.

“The plane went down,” replied Mike. “I think we are the only survivors.”

Dennis had turned to participate in the conversation. “What happened to Kyle? Have you seen him?”

“No.”

The thought of Kyle’s death created a silence between them, a tribute to the possible death of a close friend.

“We should explore this place. Maybe we can find others.” Mike said, as we walked towards the forested section of the island.

Under the dense and gloomy canopy, the trio trotted through thick underbrush and took notice upon the cool air and their footprints which remained casted in the moist soil. Water must be present somewhere in the maze of tall palms and vines, and there had to be some sort of food source because tropical birds were able to inhabit the caves of the mountain that lay in the central region.

. ..

Heaps of sticks lay where Kyle plans to attempt at half shelter, the things you learn in cub scouts actually came in handy during this situation. Kyle had learned back in when he was a young boy how to make shelters, fires and some various tracking and animal identification skills back in his hometown. He knew what he had to do to meet the basic needs for survival. A small pit had already been dug a couple feet away from the site of the shelter and construction had commenced. Hammering of sticks and rocks echoed from the campsite through the dense jungle, where Dennis tuned into the noise.

“What is that noise?” exclaimed Dennis.

“Let’s try to figure out where it’s coming from.” Mike commanded.

The group set cautiously set out to uncover the culprit of the noise, and came to discover footprints in the soil, ones that were not their own.



**Ch. 3 We're Not Alone**

Following the indented prints in the ground, the group came upon a small clearing, where Kyle had started a campsite for himself.

“Kyle! You’re alive!” exclaimed Mike.

“Wow, I thought I was the only one here!” Kyle replied.

They all had a sense that things were better now that they had all been reunited. Although, they were still stranded on an unknown island, without knowing if there was anybody searching for the downed plane and survivors. With or without any rescue, for now, they had to build shelter, make a fire and find food and water.

Mike delegated tasks for each member to accomplish. David and Dennis were to find food and water while Kyle finished building a shelter and Mike went off to find wood to build a fire.

Searching for a source of water on this island was difficult due to the intense heat. Although the ground was moist, there were no signs of running water anywhere the pair looked. Looking up in the trees, David spotted a cluster of bananas suspended about thirty feet up. Now the decision of who would scale the tree to retrieve the bananas was in the air. Dennis was never good with heights; therefore, David was the one to get them.

He improvised some makeshift rope out of vines and attempted to climb the tree. During the first attempt, David got off the ground, but then lost his footing and fell onto his back. Then he took of his

shoes and gave it another attempt. This time making it up to where the fruit hung, then knocking the bundle off with a few swift hits. A loud crash came as the bananas contacted the ground, and then followed David with another. He gathered the fruit in his arms and turned to where Dennis had been observing from a log steps away.

David noticed the paleness of his skin and how Dennis was not blinking his eyes. Confused, he slowly approached him and noticed a protrusion from Dennis’s neck, which look somewhat like a needle. He dropped the fruit and placed his fingers on the neck to check for a pulse, revealing that he had none. David closely examined the protrusion without disturbing it, and came realized that it was actually a blow dart.

David was filled with panic once he realized the cause of Dennis’s death, suspecting that he may be the next in line for whatever happened.

Sprinting through the thick green space, hopping over stumps like hurtles, David hustled for the campsite to notify the others of the unbelievable death of Dennis.

“Guys! Guys!” screamed David. “Help!”

“What’s wrong?” asked Mike.

“Dennis, he’s…he’s…”

“He’s what?” questioned Kyle, dropping the stick he was working with to walk over and see what David was panicking about.

“He’s dead!” David finally got out.

“What?” Mike and Kyle exclaimed simultaneously.

“What do we do now?” asked Dave. “What is going to happen?”

“We must find out the cause.”

With that they set off, armed with sharpened stick and a heightened sense, searching for a monstrous, cold blooded killer somewhere on the previously thought to be abandoned, island.

The island felt eerie now, and David was shaking with fear as the crew crept through low lying shrub, trying not to make a sound. Kyle lead the pack, using his cub scouts experience to observe anything out of the ordinary, like the barefoot prints in the moist soil, heading the opposite way down the path. But not just one set of prints, but multiple sizes spread at different lengths all the way down the trail. Panic rained down upon them as they tried to determine in which direction the beach was, and the direction of Dennis’s final resting place. Nobody had been paying attention to the twists and turns they took, but looking down for signs of a person, or something.

A crackle in the bush startled the bunch and sticks were drawn towards the noise, hoping to impale a predator. Nothing showed, and then another crackle sounded just behind them; then a faint whistle could be heard, a human whistle.

Screams pierced the silent atmosphere as camouflaged bodies popped out from the cover like multiple jack in the boxes going off at once. Three fear stricken men were clueless to the situation unraveling

before them; swarms of indigenous tribe members swarmed the group, chanting a harsh war chant as they speared and clubbed each individual until the blood flowed from the gashes and the bodies were black from bruises.

. ..

There were never any survivors found within a 10 mile radius of the crash site of flight 721; just another statistic to go down in the record books. The world will still go on.