Chapter Twenty: Tyler

Mariah and I pack few supplies in drawstring bags I found in the coach seating. They don’t have too many stains on them. I secure mine and look to Mariah. She’s fashioning a stick and string, contraption.

“What are you doing? Making a fishing pole?” I ask. She scowls at me for a second and attaches the free end of the string to the other end of the stick.

“I know how to shoot. I had to.” She holds up the now obvious bow and takes up a short, straight stick. She shoots it to a tree, hitting the trunk. “Not perfect aim,” she says, staring at where it hit, “But I could do with better arrows. What are you going to use?”

“Um,” I look around and pick up a thick, sturdy branch. I break off the thin, prickly branches and set it on my shoulder. “Ready.”

“Great. Let’s go that way.” I let her lead the way, stepping on one rock at a time. She crosses another stream and stops. I dip my hand into the water and take a drink. “Fresh tracks, going North.”

“You know-”

“Of course.” I follow her, trying not to distract her. She holds her bow ready, an arrow fitted against the crude structure. “The tracks are more spread apart. It’s slowing down.”

“What are we tracking?” I finally ask. Mariah turns back to me.

“A deer.” She holds her bow up and aims in the distance. I try to see where she’s looking. She sidesteps to the right. I follow her. Then I see it. A beautiful doe. I know that we aren’t supposed to shoot females, but for survival, I couldn’t care less.

Mariah let’s the small stick fly. It impacts the deer at its chest. It tries to bolt, but falls from the injury. It takes her only a second to fire another one. It is sharper and hits the doe in the stomach. I see it fall. But it isn’t dead. We walk over.

“Hit it on the head,” she directs. I hesitate. I’ve never killed anything before. “Do you want to starve?” I look away and strike it on the head. It goes limp. “This will feed us for awhile,” she comments. I feel like gagging.

I can handle blood, I can even handle someone dying in front of me. What I can’t handle is killing something myself. I avoid looking at the dent my club made in the skull and help Mariah carry it to a stream nearby. I wash my hands and let her gut the dead deer herself. She sets herself down on a fallen log and gets to work. I can handle the stench, but I move around the forest nearby and find sticks that are about two feet in length. I set the sticks across from her and I find firewood. While she takes care of the deer, I make a fire. It is starting to get dark out.

“What are those for?” She asks. I look up from my task. I had found a pocket knife in the pocket of someone and took it with us. I was using it to sharpen the sticks I found before.

“Uh, you know,” I pretend to shoot her bow, “sharper arrows.” She smiles and dips her head to me.

“Thanks,” she takes a chunk of meat and puts it on a stick over the fire, like a marshmallow. “So, what’s your story? You know mine.”

“Heh, right,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, “the poor girl going to Paris,” I mutter. “Well, my brother Steven and I, are on our way to Paris,” she looks at me over the now smoking piece of venison. “Your meat is melting.”

“Oh, right.” She takes a tentative bite, then puts the small portion in her mouth. “Mm,” she groans, “not bad. Here.” She tosses me a cube of meat on a stick to roast. “Story time.”

I clear my throat, “Right, right. Well, we were going on a world tour.”

“Oh, with your class?” She asks, moving the fire wood a little.

“Uh, no. Um, we were going on our own. We’re.. rich,” she pauses.

“That’s why you didn’t want to tell me.”

“I didn’t know if it would hurt your feelings or something,” I blurt. She laughs.

“Look, we are both stuck on this island. Whether you are from some high and mighty family and got everything on a silver platter, it doesn’t matter now. So, don’t think about if you’ll hurt me with the mouth that has probably kissed a thousand girls,” she rants, stabbing the fire with frustration.

“Mariah, I’m-”

“Look, Tyler, just get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.” I finish my second piece of meat and settle against the log. Mariah pokes the fire some more and checks the arrows I made for her. “I probably would have known you,” she states, “if Dad didn’t leave us with nothing.”

Author's Note

I wrote this one.