This day is going to be the end of me. I don't know what it is, but there are some weird vibes here right now.

Right. Okay. So...maybe Justin and I ran off. Didn't tell anyone. Probably scared the shit out of the others. But it had to be done. I was going nuts sitting in the cave all damn day, like some animal. And watching Brian try NOT to make any real decisions was starting to wear thin on entertainment value. So Justin offered up a good alternative. I had heard him asking Brian about going to the beach and suddenly that became the best idea I had heard in weeks.

Only now...now I'm going stir crazy! I have to be somewhere else. Somewhere - ANYWHERE other than the same damn spot I've been in for the last week!

What the hell are we doing here? Are we just going to sit here for the rest of our fucking lives? What happens when we don't have food? When we run out of bottled water? When bad weather hits? When some scary animal attacks?

I shiver involuntarily. Speaking of animals attacking... That stupid rat! I woke up this morning to the faint sound of squeaking. It didn't take me very long to feel the small tugging at my shirt. The little disease-infested bitch actually chewed a small hole in the back of my tank top. After I screamed, jumped up, nearly fell into the remainder of the fire, and almost broke my neck trying to get away from the little miscreant, everyone else was waking up and trying to figure out what was going on. They actually laughed!

Yeah...haha. I'm just so sure they'd still be laughing if the little squeaky stalker was trying to accost them!

Bastards.

And to top it all off, I have cramps. Fucking perfection! I hadn't even thought about the possibility of THAT happening! I wonder what sort of leaves I can use for that sort of thing. I think I remember hearing that the women were sent to the edge of the village in the old days, during their ‘cycles'. Maybe I can move off to the plane by myself until the week is over. Somehow I think even Brian would agree to that.

"Lunch," Justin calls out, trying to sound happy. He probably is too. That guy can put more food away than anyone I've ever seen. He's like a little garbage disposal on legs. So this little ‘meal' is probably the highlight of his day. Sad but true. He tosses a small packet of plane snacks to each of us and then sits to devour his own.

I look down at the packet and sigh. Great. Salted nuts. Now I'm gonna retain even more water. I'm gonna be the camp camel! Now I just need a hump to store the water in. At least here I don't have to squeeze into a size six to impress anyone.

Geez, this vacation is really starting to suck!

***

Everyone is being so quiet today! It's making me a little paranoid! It's like we're all waiting for some sort of surprise attack. Also, everyone is walking on pins and needles over what happened yesterday.

I'm actually reminded of a saying that my daddy used to tell me and my sisters when my mom got mad at us. "If mama ain't happy...then NOBODY's happy!" And I think that saying would suit today perfectly. Because ‘mama' AIN'T happy and we're all feeding off ‘mama's' bad mood.

I wonder what Brian would think about being our ‘mama'.

Funny thing is, I don't think his anger today has anything to do with what happened yesterday. That might be some of it, but it seems to run deeper than that. Doesn't it always?

"Rory?" I roll my eyes as soon as Neil calls for me. I'm all about helping people. But I regret ever volunteering to deal with this man! He acts as though I'm his servant. "Rory, could you get me some water?"

"No."

"But I'm so thirsty. I think it was the nuts." Well...I can't really say anything about that. We all had a pack of salted almonds earlier and I was running for the Evian myself. But the fact is, he's about two feet from a half full bottle and he wants me to get up, walk across to him, pick up the bottle and hold it to his lips as if he were a child! I can just see him putting on a diaper and asking some trashy woman to spank him for being a bad boy. He's just the type to do it!

Before I can tell him where he can stick it...Cynthia steps in. "If you're so incredibly thirsty, then you can get it your own damn self."

I glance at her and she throws me a half smile. I think she's still a little shaken from her morning encounter with Mr. Whiskers. The last thing she wants to have to put up with is hearing Neil's whining. I'm inclined to agree and thankfully Neil seems to be taking her non-so-subtle hint. He's slowly stretching to retrieve the bottle, making a whole production about it, acting as if he's about to expire on the spot from pain. And who knows? Maybe he is in agony. But here, at this moment in time, even my sympathetic nature can only take so much.

I move to sit beside Cynthia. For some reason she looks as though she's about to go off and I think it's best to defuse her before she actually detonates. "You alright?"

"Oh sure. Just fine and fuckin dandy," she says in her most falsely chipper voice.

"Uh-huh. That's convincing." Cynthia likes to think she can bitch her way through anything. But sometimes I know that the attitude means she just needs a little TLC.

I put my arm around her shoulders but she brushes it off. "Get off. It's too hot." Yeah. It isn't exactly touchy-feely weather. The heat has been really bad today so I move my arm back onto my lap and continue to stare at her, waiting for her to begin. "I think I'm gonna take a nap."

We've all been doing that a lot lately. It's nothing really. Just...something else to do when we get bored. But Cynthia rarely naps. She prefers to read. I had brought a magazine with me and there were a few newspapers on the plane. I believe she's read every one of them a dozen times. She could probably recite most of the articles. But she looks a little wiped out right now and it worries me just a bit. "What's wrong, Cynth?"

She gives me a blank stare that would be more at home on Brian's face, and sighs. "I'm just...tired."

"Yeah." And that's all I can say. It's in the air. Who can blame her? We're all tired.

***

I don't think I've been in a hospital a day in my life. Well...except for when I was born. But beyond that, I tend to avoid those places like the plague. They're too sterile, too cold and despite what cheesy ‘80s porn would have you believe, there are no nurses that wear five inch skirts, eight inch heels and lace garter belts to work. The point is, I just don't do hospitals. But right now, I'd do just about anything for a little medical attention.

My leg hurts. It started with my ankle, but now the pain is shooting up and down the side of my leg and it hurts like hell. Gotta get my mind off of it. But...SHIT! It HURTS! Not that anyone here would notice. Or care. They're all acting like I'm the bad guy here.

It might not piss me off if they knew what I actually did, but they don't. So they're acting as if I'm some asshole based on first impressions. Albeit under harsh circumstances. But first impressions all the same.

But I'm NOT an asshole. I'm not a jerk. I'm just a poor sap that got the short end of the stick. I knew I never should have trusted that dickhead when he assured me that nothing could go wrong. Everyone knows that those are famous last words.

At least I'm not here alone.

I glance up to take stock of my island mates. Brian has been playing with his knife all day, mostly sitting outside and keeping to himself. Surprisingly. Usually he's in everyone else's business. Justin has been sitting outside with Brian, trying to give him space but not letting him have a moment's peace. When he gets started, that guy can talk your ear off. Luckily, he doesn't seem to think I'm worth talking to all that much.

Cynthia and Rory are seated across from me, chatting. Cynthia playing the eternal PMS victim - what a bitch! - and Rory seems to be trying to comfort her. That woman is the most maternal person I've ever met. It borders on disgusting, how nice she can be. Though, I've seen her not-so-nice side a few times in the past day or so. Wonder why she gets so snippy?

Silently, from where I sit I watch Cynthia turn and curl up into a ball in her spot.

Funny how we've all claimed spots. It wasn't as if we assigned them. More like we just gravitated to sides out of a need to have our own space. We all have our space that allows for closeness but not crowding. Brian and Justin to one side, I stick to the back of the cave, then Rory and Cynthia on the other side. Like one big happy family.

I laugh out loud at that thought - I'm in deep shit if this is now my fucking family - and receive glares from the girls. I quickly look away.

Man...my leg hurts!

***

Brian's been ignoring me all day. He's pretty much stayed put in the same spot, not moving except when he had to go to the bathroom. Er...the little hole that we dug at the back of the rocks around the cave. That's a pain in the ass in so many ways. Especially when you have to go at night.

Even though I doubt that it's the main problem, I think he's still mad at me for running off yesterday. He's used to Cynthia being obstinate. In fact I think it's his favorite thing about her. But me...I'm still supposed to be that little teenager that followed him around for so long. I should listen to him because he's older and supposedly wiser and therefore knows what's best for me. As if I need that!

Hello! I'm twenty-five! I don't want, nor do I need a surrogate father at this point. So he can get over it and accept that we're not all going to kowtow to him. I'M not going to bow down to him. Not now. Not ever.

Still...that doesn't mean that I don't want to keep things peaceful. Friendly even. I tried to talk to him all day. Tried to chat about trivial things to keep his mind off whatever might have been bothering him. But I had no luck other than a few grunts of acknowledgment.

It's just that I don't like quiet Brian. Quiet Brian is brooding Brian. And brooding Brian is bitchy Brian. Bitchy Brian...well he's just not a pretty sight. I was trying to spare all of us from that particular aspect of life with Brian.

He coughs loudly and I glance up at him. He's still scraping the knife along the edges of the branch he found yesterday. At first I thought he was sharpening the knife by running it along the side, but now he's too focused. Like he's actually got something in mind for the long, thin piece of wood. "What are you making?" I finally ask.

"Weapon."

Weapon... Weapon?! "What?"

He stops carving long enough to hold the stick up vertically. It's almost a perfect straight line now, from where he's chipped so much of the curve out of the sides. And one end is beginning to look like the end of a dull pencil. But...I guess I can see it. A spear, like the mighty hunters used to use.

And I can just picture Brian out in the forest, wearing nothing but a loin cloth. His chest bare and glistening in the sun and his biceps bulging as he holds his long, perfectly carved spear above his head, ready to strike at any second.

Hmmmm. Wait a minute...I feel... Holy shit! DAMMIT! I look down at my cut-off shorts and confirm my suspicions. Who needs shelter? I just pitched a tent.

"Hey Justin...I think you have a little problem there." THIS...THIS Brian notices! Well that just fucking figures doesn't it!

"No. No problem. At least nothing YOU need to worry about," I shoot back. He actually looks a little stunned by my words, but only for a second. Then he's right back to ignoring me. And probably laughing at me.

Well fuck that!

I stand up and turn to walk away, but Brian catches my arm. For a minute I just stand there looking down at his hand lightly gripping my right elbow. When I turn, his eyes aren't angry. They aren't laughing. They're soft. Searching. "Stay. Keep talking."

"Why? So you can ignore me?" But he doesn't answer me. He just goes back to his spot, picks up his spear in the making and continues to wield his knife across it.

Amazingly...okay - not so amazingly, I walk right back to the same spot that I've occupied all day long and plop back down. This time when I start talking, I notice that Brian still makes no indication that he recognizes my presence. But I know he hears me. And maybe my voice is all he needs. Just something to break the silence that has been getting to all of us.

"Think we could have a little more to eat tonight?" Silence. "Those nuts...they just don't go very far." Nothing. "What if...we all split that orange you found?" See...this isn't asking Brian's permission. It's just being responsible. There are five of us and just because one of us is still starving, doesn't mean we should risk extra food. I just want him to agree. Because if he agrees then the others are likely to agree as well. "We need to eat it soon before it goes all icky." Not that I wouldn't eat an icky orange at this point. But I needed another reason in my favor.

Finally after another half hour or so of idle chit-chat, I think Brian begins to regret asking me to stay. He sighs and glances up at me. "Why don't you do something?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Draw?"

Draw... Draw... What could I draw? Oh my gosh! That's it!

I run into the cave, careful not to wake Cynthia who's asleep in her spot and grab my journal. Flipping to the first empty page, I poise my pencil over the page and smile at Brian. "So. Any specifications you want to include on our new beachfront cottage?"

"Cottage?" He looks confused for a moment and then smiles ruefully. "Well...how about a little indoor plumbing?"

I nod and laugh, already laying out a plan for our new home.

***

After the orange is split up between the five of us and devoured, we all take our spots around the fire and try to enjoy the peacefulness of our surroundings instead of being annoyed by it. Cynthia is curled up and looking a bit sick, but she won't talk to anyone. Rory keeps looking at Cynthia worriedly. Pilot Neil is trying to clean under his fingernails with one of his boot laces. The man hasn't showered in over a week, but he's determined to have clean fingernails!

Justin is sitting close to me. Not close enough to touch...but close. He's still working on the floor plans for the shelter we're going to build. He's been through three or four designs now. Every time he gets one done, someone thinks of something to add. By the time we actually get to work on it for real, the thing is gonna be five stories high and span half the length of the island.

I'm glad Justin thought of it. When he came up with the idea, he looked just like a kid at Christmas. He told me once that he was always more interested in the boxes that his toys came in. He would always make towers and things with them. This ‘project' is going to be like a giant Christmas day for him.

I'm just glad I could make him smile. We haven't been doing much of that lately. It made ME feel better to see him smiling again.

"I think I'm gonna turn in," Neil announces. The rest of us look at one another as he turns his back as if to ask ‘who the hell cares?'

"Goodnight," Rory says, trying to be nice enough for all of us.

Neil stretches out on his back and sighs. "Night."

With Neil out and Cynthia not far behind him, the rest of us keep as quiet as possible so as not to disturb them. Justin never breaks from his drawing. Rory picks up an old magazine and is flipping through that. I pick my spear up and begin carving the tip once again. It has to be sharp. It has to kill, not injure.

When the others get tired, Rory beginning to fall asleep while sitting up, I suggest they sleep while I take the first watch. All part of my plan. I won't actually wake them up. Not until I have to.

I glance at my watch. It's only a quarter after eight. And this is late to us now. Just like waking up with the sun is normal. Even Justin, who has always been allergic to alarm clocks, wakes up around six every morning. After only a week, I can already feel us all growing accustomed to the ways of living in nature. Which is a good thing, considering that with every passing day I get the sinking feeling that any rescue attempts will fall flat.

We're going to be here for a long, long time. This could easily be the place where I draw my last breath. These people might be the last people I ever see. Now if I could only wrap my brain around that...

Around two, I hear it. The enemy. In a slight rustle of leaves. In a whispering shuffle. In the slightest sound of tearing cloth. "Don't move," I whisper into the night. "Doooon't mooove.."

At that exact moment, Cynthia coughs lightly and a opens her eyes. She can feel it. My gaze upon her and she sits up enough to stare back at me. "Brian?"

I ignore the worry in her voice and keep the spear steady. One beat...two beats...on three my arm tenses and I vault the shortened stick towards her. Her eyes widen and she shrinks back against the wall of the cave as a soft shriek escapes my prey. She looks to her side and here eyes nearly bug out of her head. "Shit!"

I just smile at her as I reach over and pick up the spear, the rat's corpse impaled on the tip. "Looks like we have lunch for tomorrow."