Island, Round Six: By a fallen stake...

[Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)]

Everything was falling apart.


Q was dead, the strange man with the strange voice. He was dead, just like that. Christopher had talked to him yesterday, right before he died.

Then Hunter accused Calista, the girl that was younger than him.
Christopher wanted to beg them not to kill her, not to kill anyone. Wasn't that what they killers wanted? Didn't they want everyone to die?

But he couldn't. His throat closed up. Something was stopping him. Was it fear?


"We need to leave this beach. Go off to a desolate part of the island, just the two of us. We must be quiet in packing our things, and then leave without attracting any attention. And quickly. Before anymore deaths happen."

Christopher knew Nelly was right, they couldn't stay here. He nodded slightly, trying to be subtle.

He just wanted Nelly to be safe.

[Nova]

"She is, like, 10 years old! What makes you think she'd kill?"

Hunter cleared his throat. "I don't feel great about making such an accusation, but you have to remember that Selm was in the mafia too, and she was a young girl as well. We can't take age or gender into deciding who is mafia or not... any one of us could be. All I have is my intuition; I've been able to trust it before, and in times like these, it's the only thing I can rely on."

[Draco]

Q does the backstroke through the air past Hunter.

"Why are they the Mafia? That would mean they are in to kill us for reasons other then killing us. Like money or something."

He disappears in a small flash of light, and reappears laying back in the sand.

"These guys are just killers. Plain and simple. Nothing like the Mafia of Netwaffle."

[Avery]

As Hunter began to argue about the fact that somehow it didn't matter that Calista was a little child just like Christopher, she could still be a killer, Nelly grew more and more confident with her decision to take her precious little boy and make a run for it.

Together they packed up their little tent, stuffing their meager possessions into a rucksack that had washed up on shore some days before. Nelly was thankful for the ruckus on the beach-- the arguing-- because it provided a distraction for her and Christopher's escape.

After all their belongings were organized, Nelly peered at the crowd of quarreling survivors from afar, waiting for the right moment to leave. Finally, as Q's ghost broke down the difference between killers and mafiosos, Nelly felt she had the right moment.

"Let's go, Christopher," she hissed, holding tight to his hand and dashing to the woods. "We have not time to spare."

[icon]

It occurred to Montana Jenkins that there really wasn't very much that he could do.

He had overheard snippets of conversation whenever people passed by the hut he was dropped onto, but every time he tried to ask anything he had never been able to get a decent response. From what he could hear, someone named Q was killed, a healer of some sort. He tried to call out and ask for more details, but every time he did there was no response except for that annoying bird.

Well, there wasn't a lot he could do now. He sighed, and tried to get as comfortable as a piece of driftwood could get. At least not being able to move meant he didn't have to worry about injury. With his newfound not-body, Monty had discovered he was able to sleep like, well, a log.

But now was not the time to sleep. Now was the time for action.

...As soon as he could figure out what he could actually do.

"Is anyone still out there?" He called. If somebody heard him, maybe he could get them to carry him elsewhere. Goodness knows the roof was starting to get old.

[Lizica]

The mimicking bird had, over the past few days, finally started to pick up on the fact that there was something terribly wrong with these new human islanders. Not only were there fewer of them, but they went through spells of eerie silence alternating with sudden explosions of yelling and accusations.

And as if that wasn't enough to make a tropical bird start pulling out his feathers, the few that were left actually seemed to be talking to dead air. Wasn't that just baffling? Leave it to those strange humans to be talking when no one was there to listen to their ramblings. The bird began to question whether or not it had been smart to settle down in their vicinity.

His would-be nest, of course, was nonexistent. He'd poked along this hut's roof so many times that it was dotted with holes and tears, but nowhere to properly settle down in. Honestly, if those humans didn't get their act together soon, he was going to take his fantastic talking driftwood and fly back into the deep forest.

Pacing along the weathered hut and watching the commotion below, the bird reacted to the worrisome noises the only way he knew how: by adding to the unruly chaos.

First, the sound of a coconut breaking open. Then some water dripping. Then into his arsenal of human phrases. "Fight fire with a colder, darker, negated fire!" he repeated, a bit faster and more hectic than usual. "This food is not free. THIS FOOD IS NOT FREE. Flight time varies depending on how hungry I am. This is a desert island. It's the only thing I can rely on. I'M ON A DESERTED ISLAND. HELP ME. Don't panic. Don't panic, don't panic. YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"

[Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)]

Christopher squeezed Nelly's hand as he followed her. He had helped with the packing shakily, hearing the sounds of arguments and fights. The other islanders were deciding who to kill.

Some of the voices had been those of dead people. Ghosts. They were real, there were ghosts on this island. They were also talking about who to kill.

Christopher followed Nelly, almost holding his breathe, hoping no one would notice they were gone.

[Draco]

Q floats around in what could only be called a small ghost boat in the air. He paddles his way around the beach above the others, through trees and tests and such.

Maybe being a ghost wasn't all that bad. Now he could do things he only dreamed of, and within time he would probably figure out a few new things even. Why did his cousin Drake ever want to be alive again he didn't know. Perhaps if they ever get off the island, he'll figure out how to send the stuff from his house to Netwaffle to live. After all, it is a great ghost community. But he didn't need to worry about that right away, since he did have his trunk, and without his trunk he would be lost. Luckily it could only be opened by him, special touch you see. Even as a ghost he has been able to open it.

His trunk was special, it could hold, to put it simple, a lot of stuff. It was much larger on the inside, and if he wanted, he could use it as a small house himself, but then he would probably have trouble getting out of it, so he's never done it without there being a emergency. Like the one time he hid in it during a volcano eruption (the trunk was also very durable). Now if only he could figure out how to get it to teleport him places, then it would be perfect.

As he was deep in thought he could have sworn he heard a voice he didn't recognize. He looked around, but all he could see was wood.

"Hmm, now I could just be hearing things, but I do believe I heard a voice from this pile of wood...."

[Avery]

She wasn't herself, not anymore.

Just weeks ago she'd be an innocent little girl on vacation with her parents. But now... now she was an orphan, on an island, suffering frequent blackouts. She didn't know what happened during them, though lately she'd begun to understand, when she woke up from oblivion one morning with blood on her hands. Calista didn't want to believe it-- that she might be one of the nefarious killers-- but the blood didn't lie.

She was guilty. She knew it, and she felt awful, but something had snapped in her when the ship sank. A new, dark side had emerged, a side she couldn't control.

She didn't protest when the survivors came to the decision to lynch her. She didn't falsely proclaim her innocence. She simply let them string her up, let them send her to the Other Side, where perhaps her parents might be waiting. A place she wouldn't be so alone.

Calista was a killer.

[Nova]

He was relieved.

Though sad and miserable, he was relieved. His suspicion about a little girl being a killer was right.

He probably would have killed himself if he was wrong; he would have the responsibility on his shoulders for the death of a child. But he was right. It was a bittersweet moment.

There was only one killer left, and soon that killer would strike. He had a 33 percent chance of dying now.. he could only hope that he would last the night.

He sat down on the beach, watching as the waves rolled in. He turned his head and stared at Captain Dean Comwell's tent. His inner suspicion grew stronger, and Hunter knew he had to be careful.

He had to be.

[Celestial]

She had set out again this morning, running on fish and the last of the boar meat. Shani had heard about the killing of Calista and how they got a final murderer but her resolve to find a rescue boat had not diminished.

The island had faded from the angel's view when she finally spotted what looked like a boat. Her heart soared as she read the text written on the side: Life Alert Rescue Boats. Shani could barely contain her joy. She landed on the deck and turned a corner where she ran straight into a man.

"I'm sorry, I did not see you there, Michae-" the man stopped as he caught a glimpse of Shani. "Are you ok, miss? How did you get here?"

The angel stood up and folded her wings. The crewman nodded in understanding.

Shani smoothed out her clothing and nodded at the man. She tried to stay calm and not blabber.

"My name is Shani and I have flown here from an island where a few weeks ago, the survivours of a cruise liner landed. However, we've been picked off one by one until there are only a few of us. Will you please come get us off here?" she blurted out hurriedly. The man nodded.

"Well, Shani, my name is Bram and of course we'll help you. Do you remember what the ship was called?"

"Yes," Shani said and paused, "The S.S...Unsinkable, I think."

He grinned.

"Excellent. We were actually on our way to rescue you. The fact that you found us is a stroke of good fortune," he said, gripping Shani's hand. She stiffened but she was too happy to resist.

"Do you have any food?" the angel asked.

The man nodded.

"Yes, in the boat's kitchen we have plenty of provisions. Help yourself," he said, starting to walk away. "

******

"I'm tellin' ya, lad, when I was a wee bairn, the oonly way to become a mahn was to find a beir in the Haighlands and beat it deid wit a live haggis and thein ya ate the haggis raw on the hilltop!" exclaimed the skipper, waving about a fancy cigar. "Why, the oonly reason they confiscated ma bear skin was because apparently it smelt like-"

"Skipper," Bram rushed in, "You won't believe what I just saw."

"Was it that bonnie auld mermaid that I lost aull ma poker games to? Because if so, I would like ta-"

"An angel just landed on the ship, Skipper McRaie," he shouted. "She's part of the survivours we've been sent to rescue." The younger crewman who had been listening to the skipper ramble gasped.

"An angel? Surely, it must be an omen!"

"Either that or we ken who's been drinkin' aull the spirits! 'Cause I ken it ain't me, me sleep-drinking stopped right after I landed on that island off the coast of Somalia. Robbed by pirates I was. What they aught to do wit' aull of 'em is to blow the-"

"Skipper, please," Bram exclaimed in an exasperated way. "We have a job. And you've told us the story before."

"Have I? Well, I can tell ya the improved versio-"

"What are we going to do about the angel on our deck and the island?"

"Weill, we should do oour jobs. Ask her where the island is and set course. You lad, what was your name..?" he said to the younger crewman, who immediately leapt up and saluted.

"My name is Michael, Skipper!"

"Ah yes, Michael. Ya go make yourself handy and Bram, you go teaste the co-ordinates oout o' the lass. We're going to wherever this island is."

"Yes, sir."

Michael walked out of the door where Bram was. The older man grabbed the boy's collar and closed the door behind him.

"Don't listen to the stories the skipper tells you, please. You're lucky so far that most of them have been clean at least but they are complete rubbish."

"But they're fun!" Michael cried.

"I know they are but you are taking them too seriously."

"I know they aren't real, ok! I'm not a kid."

Bram let the boy go without saying another word on the subject. He did not want an argument, not while they had the angel who was the first and only opportunity they had to get to the island.

The skipper turned away and walked towards the steering.

"Seriously, an angel. Why, that's the best signallin' device you could imagine. But back when I was a cabin boy aun a Royal Navy ship, we had an angel in oour crew! And he was a brilliant lad too!" he stopped and looked around the empty cabin, "Looks like I'm blethering again."

******

Shani, as soon as she had finished eating, took off again and flew in the direction of the island with the boat and it's crew following her. They soon arrived at the island. The Life Alert boat landed close to the beach and the crew waded out onto the shore. They immediately saw Calista's lynched body. Miachel covered his mouth and bend in two, his face turning green.

"Ah, lad, you're weak. I'll tell ye, back on another rescue operation, we arrived oon the shoor and this numpty had gone insane, right. He'd killed everyone and cut off their heids then posed them aroond himself so they all looked at him. When we foond him, he was cuddlin' one of the heids. Cuddling it! Can ye imagin-"

"Skipper, let's just focus on the job," Bram said, supporting Michael.

"Right, right," the Skipper nodded and took a megaphone from around his shoulder.

"ALRIGHT, YE NUMPTIES, ANYBODY WHO WANTS TO GER AWAY FREIM THIS ISLAND BETTER COME 'ERE WITH US!" he shouted.

While this was happening, Shani took off from the boat and began circling around the island, looking for people. She had to find the last of the murderers and it was preferable that she did it quickly. It was likely that they were going to kill somebody soon. If she could get everyone on the boat, where space was limited and being seen was all too easy, perhaps the murderer would not kill anybody else. It was a matter of time.

[Lizzie]

Sam was horrified at the death of Calista, the little girl. She hoped the blind kid, Chris, wouldn't die next.

"ALRIGHT, YE NUMPTIES, ANYBODY WHO WANTS TO GER AWAY FREIM THIS ISLAND BETTER COME 'ERE WITH US!"

"Moonflower! There's a rescue boat!" the ghostly girl yelped, floating toward the yelling man, "Excuse me, sir, but there's a little blind boy somewhere around here, can someone help him?"

Sam looked around for Christopher.

"Guys, anyone know where Nelly and Christopher went?"

[Terra]

She stared through the others as if they weren’t there.

But, really, she was the one who was gone.

She was glad to be dead, she told herself. It was good to be gone from this miserable Earth.

But, if that was the case, then why was she still here?

All along, in spite of herself, she’d wished for all their deaths. She was sure they would all be better off, in a place where they didn’t have to worry about being hurt...

And soon, she saw her wishes begin to come true, and though she told herself that she was upset and terrified, as any ten-year-old girl should be...she almost felt...glad.

* * *

All her life, she’d played tricks with herself, pretending that she was happy, pretending that she didn’t mind that her parents didn’t pay attention to her, pretending that she cared about anything. After a while, she couldn’t tell what was pretend and what was real, and as that certainty faded, her personality, her individuality melted away.

She was nothing.

She was nothing, and she didn’t mind.

She didn’t mind that her parents died.

Did she?

They didn’t care about her, so what did it matter?

(How could she think something like that?)

She didn’t have a heart anymore.

So why did it hurt so much?

She couldn’t take it anymore.

* * *

So, someone was finally coming to rescue them. About time. It would have been nice if it had been a few days sooner, before all the killings happened. But what could she do?

(She tried to brush it aside when she noticed that she was still thinking about the killings as if she’d had no part in them.)

So, the few remaining survivors would get to go home, then, and live happily ever after. How wonderful for them.

She felt hollow inside. So, this was what it came to. Did everything that had happened over the past several days mean anything? Did the deaths of so many people - did her death mean anything?

It took a little while for her to realize what she was feeling.

She hated that these people, the survivors, the rescuers, were able to live their lives and be happy, when she had never had that. She hated that they had everything that she had been robbed of, or things that she hadn’t ever had in the first place - homes, loving families, friends, passions...

It was so unfair.

Then it hit her.

Now that she was dead, she didn’t have to keep these feelings to herself, anymore.

She had already disgraced herself enough. She couldn’t do any more harm to herself or her family legacy. Her family was dead. Nothing she could say or do could make anything worse now.

She might as well have a little fun.

She floated invisibly to the side of one of the rescuers and whispered in his ear.

“You know you deserve to die, right?”

[Draco]

Q grew bored of waiting for a piece of wood to talk. After all, waiting for wood to talk was sort of odd, even for him. So he floated around to try and find something else to do. That was when he sensed something, something large.... But what was it? Then it hit him!

"A text wall! And two of them! I've heard about these before, but never thought I would witness one myself."

A ghostly tear rolls down from his eye as he talks to himself in the sky. Anyone who heard him would think he was madly insane of course, after all there were no such things as text walls.

"Oh you two girls and your text walls to make up for time gone, how you write so much. And oh, this looks interesting!"

He disappears and reappears invisible next to the same rescuer that Calista was whispering to.

"You know you deserve pie, right?"

[Avery]

Nelly and Christopher had settled into a nice little cove in a desolate part of the island. They had everything they needed there: shelter, food, and a water source nearby. It was so peaceful compared to the tumultuous beach-- far away from it, yet still close enough for Nelly to keep secret tabs on the rest of the survivors occasionally.

That's how she knew they'd executed the little Calista girl, and that's also how she saw what seemed to be rescuers arrive to shore. Her gut reaction to the rescuers was one of pure joy. But she stopped herself from making her presence known to them. Not everyone on the ship had had clean intentions, obviously, given the murders. What if these alleged rescuers had dirty hands, as well?

She stayed hidden.