Sam Michelson

"This is perfect," he said. And it was... for the next twenty-four minutes. The second they entered the clouds, however, all hell broke loose.

Sam didn't have a recollection of the events of the storm. He had tried to go back, to play over those last moments in his mind, but all he remembered was the way Danny's lips folded over the edge of his cigarette, the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way he looked over his shoulder as the lightning struck...the way the words "This is perfect" kept playing in his mind, over and over and over, a repetition of hell and heaven's vicious tango.

Sam does, however, remember the moment his eyes opened upon those desperate shores. The light streamed in from the canopy above. White sand coated his eyes, his nose, his lips. His clothes were torn, tattered, and the bottom half of his shirt had been formed into a bandage, wrapped around his arm. He couldn't breathe right away--it wasn't until he coughed and pushed himself up that he caught scent of a thousand pieces of life at once. The green land around him was alive, which meant it was also constantly dying, dead, bits of rotting trees and distant animals, combined with the large and dizzying flowers, the thick trees, the ocean, all mixed to create something he couldn't describe. It was life itself that attacked his senses, that flooded his mind with adrenaline, that left him shaking and coughing until his lungs ached and his mind swelled and nothing--absolutely nothing--could convince him that he hadn't awoken in the very pits of hell.

The most he could say for the place was that the sky was surprisingly blue. The longer he stared upward the more he wondered if he'd died. The sky had never been that blue before. Trees had never been that large before. Sand had never felt so raw before. Everything, every single fucking thing that sat around him, was new and unexplored. It looked as though man had never come upon its shores before.

And, from the way the hairs on his spine stood upright, he knew that they never should have.

It took Sam a total of fifteen and a half minutes to realize that he was alone. Danny wasn't there around him. Someone had clearly taken care of him--but who? And where was Danny? Where was the rest of the ship members? Did they all die in the storm? I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it. He could hear his mother now, her smug voice as her lips pursed and repeated: This is God's punishment to you. You deserve this.

"Danny?"

His voice was rough. His throat ached. Reaching up, he grasped the edges of his throat gently, rubbing his thumb over his Adam's apple. Bits of wood were stuck deep underneath his pink fingers. His entire arm was swollen and his shoulder ached, but it was the pinkness that stood out to him. Sam had never been outside long enough, or in direct sunlight long enough, to get sunburnt before.

"Danny?"

How long have I been asleep?

The world spun as he pushed himself off the ground. Trees dipped in and out of view, shifting and dancing like waves in the distance. A loud crash came from behind him and he jumped, his body aching from the movement, lungs squeezed and pinched, and his poor bare feet took him running in another direction. He ran, smashing into leaves and tripping over vines until he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't hear save for the THUMPTHUDTHUMPTHUDTHMUPTHUD that followed his every movement. It was close. It had to be close. Something was behind him. Moving. Crashing. The leaves tangled, grabbing him, pulling him back, all too much, too close, unwilling to let him find freedom until he broke from the trees and fell onto hot sand.

Cold air and sky and waves met him. He looked behind him--nothing. What was that? He shook his head, only for the world to start spinning. The waves were loud, far louder than the jungle was. Birds cawed overhead. Something scuddled past his foot--only a small crab.

"Where's Danny?" He spoke aloud, as though afraid to keep the thought to himself. Surely, someone else had to have washed up on the island. Otherwise, who had bandaged him?

When he found the strength to stand up again, the wreckage from the ship was all he could see for as far as his eyes went.

Hundreds of small items were trapped in the ceaseless tug and pull of the ocean's current. Slips of metal, board, and broken bits of life preservers all bobbed in the gentle waves. Onshore, close to his feet, lay trash from the ship. Bottles, straws, bits of plastic and a pair of broken sunglasses. It was a disgusting mess that ruined an otherwise perfect resort location. Though he could see no buildings above the treeline, he knew there had to be a hotel somewhere close by. A small village, perhaps. They were in the Carribean afterall--every small island was full of people on one side of it or the other.

To his left was the main wreckage of the ship. It was cracked in half and missing several parts. Already, it appeared weathered. As though time had slipped away while Sam slept, leaving him lost upon an aged land of no return.

God. He shook his head. Again, the pain followed and the world stirred. Gentle. I must have hit my head hard.

There were no bodies around--which meant that the others had to have survived. I need to find Danny. I have to make sure he's okay. What if he died?

The water was useless to search, so Sam started to walk upon the beach, forcing himself to stay away from the dense trees. In that jungle could be anything, all sorts of wild animals and death traps.

"Danny?" He couldn't get his voice that loud.

"Hello?" It wasn't a deep, male voice that answered but that of a small girl--a feminine, pitched voice. She sounded scared, or perhaps merely confused, and Sam wandered in the direction of her voice. He rounded the edge of the shore until he saw her, standing next to a grove of bushes, with long brown hair covering her face and the body of a teenager. She was young, with baby fat still on her cheeks, but there was something off with the way she looked.

"Hello? Who are you?"

"Bianca," the girl replied. She straightened herself and moved towards him, her fingers outstretched and her feet sliding into the sand as she moved. It was clear then that she was blind. "Bianca Colombo."

That was a name Sam had heard before. Being rich meant his family often knew others--business tycoons were always needed to back phone companies. The Michelson's had been to parties held by the Colombo name.

"I'm Sam Michelson. Were you on board?"

She nodded, stopping her trek a few feet away from him. The wind pulled at her hair. "Where are we?"

"Some sort of island," Sam said. "Are you hurt? Have you seen anyone else?"

Maybe she'd seen Danny, or someone else--or maybe heard from someone about him. Sam needed to know. That was his husband dammit, and they were supposed to be on a honeymoon. Not deserted on an island in the middle of God Knows Where. Fuck. She can't see anything, can she? I'm sure she ran into him though. She must have.

"No." Never had one word left such a pit inside his stomach. "I woke up a few hours ago. I think someone dragged me to shore, but I don't know who or where they went," she said. Rubbing her arm, she sighed deeply. She seemed tired but otherwise had no visible wounds. Aside from her messed up hair and outfit, Bianca was in good shape for surviving a wreck. "You haven't seen my cane, have you?"

Sam looked left and right and there were no canes in the wreckage around them. Light bounced off the pristine rocks and he squinted, his head already aching from the intense lighting. His vision wavered but was better than before. Still, he wandered a foot or so into the jungle of trees before him and picked up a half-human sized stick. "No, but would this work?" He placed it in her outstretched hands.

She's alive. Danny must be too.

She moved it around. "A little short, but it'll have to do."

"I need to find my husband. I don't know where he went," Sam said. "Would you want to come with me? I'm sure we can set up a shelter once we find him."

"Let's go."

They set off, headed in the opposite direction of the sun. It was later in the day, not quite close to dusk but getting there. If anyone was on the island, they'd be looking for shelter and readying themselves for the night. That meant they'd be leaving the jungle and setting up camp along the shore. No one would dare stay in that beast of a jungle overnight.

There's no way that only two people could survive a wreck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny Michelson

Under different circumstances, it would have been a beautiful night. The air was warm and damp, a small breeze whispering through the canopy of trees that stretched out behind him. White sand glowed like silver under the bright light of the full moon, beckoning in the waves that slowly lapped at the shore. Each foam-tipped tongue reached just a little higher, pushing shells and stones onto the beach only to swallow them back up again. Everything was quiet. The faint rustling from the undergrowth and the crash of the ocean against the sand barely interrupting the stillness. Only the debris, embedded in the seashore, and the stinging pain of salt in the wound above his brow ruined the silhouette of an island paradise. Only the ocean, rising ever closer to his feet, destroyed the illusion that everything was okay. Danny had never been a Boy Scout but he knew enough about the world to know that when the tide was coming in, it was time to get off the beach.

Unfortunately for him, he was not the one in need of convincing.

Sam had been staring at the waves for what felt like hours. It was hard to tell time. Anything electronic had been swept away long before their lifeboat tipped over. The rough, stormy water had become complacent as soon as they reached the island. It surrounded his boyfriend's shivering body now, trying desperately to pull him back toward the ocean. Danny watched him from a distance, unwilling to bring himself to step onto the pearl-white sand. His heart pounded in his chest, still racing from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. But his brain was still. His thoughts were quiet.

It's just ten steps, Danny. Ten steps. He rubbed the ring on his finger absentmindedly, watching the rise and fall of Sam's shoulders as if somehow that would stir him into moving. "Okay." The words came out louder than he expected, cutting through the silent evening as he forced his feet forward. "I saw a documentary on this once. Let's gather what we can from the wreck and make our way into the island, where it's safer." No matter how close he got, the other body on the beach refused to stir. "Sam?" He called his name, crouching down beside him with a single hand clasped against his shoulder. "Baby?'

Slowly, Sam's lips began to move, mumbling words too soft for him to hear. Danny leaned in close, straining to hear. "How did this happen?" The words were a quiet exhale, barely enough to reach the open air past his mouth. His fingers were pushed deep into the sand, knuckles bent ever so slightly as if he could hold the world in place beneath him. But the beach would not obey, sending granules of salt and mineral tumbling between his fingers, unable to be held captive.

Danny tightened his grip, pulling the other man towards him in a desperate attempt to shake the shock from Sam's body. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "We can't stay here, we need to get somewhere dry."

Those beautiful eyes that he loved so much were empty and dark now, staring at him but seeing nothing. "We never should have left." His words wilted on the end, the defeat final and unyielding. Danny couldn't stand the sight of it. Frustration boiled in the pit of his stomach, an unfounded annoyance that he choked back with a shuddering breath inwards.

"Sam. Focus on me, Sam," he instructed. "On me." Sam's head bobbed in response, but he could have been anywhere on the planet. "We're going to be okay. Just stand up." His feet shifted in the sand, pulling him upwards. Fingertips slid from Sam's shoulder, trying to scoop his palm out from where it was buried on the beach. "Can you stand up?" Danny tugged him forward, willing his lover to move. With soft, shaking movements, it started to work.

A small smile spread over his face as Sam rose, his eyes locking onto Danny with more sharpness than before. "That's it," he coaxed. With each word, he pulled him from the seaside, letting the sound of the waves grow distant as the white sand slowly became mud and stone beneath their feet. "Just follow me." It was like guiding a child, a frightened baby needing to be nurtured with each wobbling step.

But the closer they got to the dense foliage, the tighter Sam's grip on his hand became. "Danny," his voice was urgent, head shaking as he tried to pull the other man to a stop. "I can't. I can't go in there." His feet began to drag, stumbling over roots as his breath turned to a gasp in his throat. "I can't breathe. I can't— don't make me go in there, Danny. Please. Please."

At last, he released Sam's hands, eyes squeezing shut as he pulled a small breath into his lungs. Danny raised his hands in defeat, trying to keep his voice steady as he turned around. We're stranded on a deserted island and you want to stay here, where there's no food or water. This is fine. It's fine. "Okay," he said at last, letting a sigh relax the tension in his body, "okay. We don't have to go any further." The relief on Sam's face was enough to make his heart throb. Danny guided him into the thinnest part of the foliage, close enough that they could still see the shore. They settled down onto the mossy floor, his arm wrapped around Sam's shaking shoulders.

"Maybe someone will find us." His skin was like ice, still soaked from the sea and unable to dry off in the humid climate of the jungle. Danny rubbed his arms, snuggling in close enough for the other boy to lean back against his chest.

He nodded softly, trying to sound hopeful. "You're right. Ships— they've got protocols for this kind of shit, right?" The words were hesitant, trying to force any semblance of calmness into his partner's thoughts. "The crew's already taken care of this I bet. We'll just have to find the rest of them and..." He trailed off, transfixed momentarily by the rhythmic crash of the waves against the starlight beach. "And then we'll be rescued. It'll be easy." Nothing about this island felt right. Not its silence, not its shore, not the way it made the pit of his stomach swirl with thoughts that needed to be kept buried.

"How are you so okay with this?"

He could feel the warm blood drying against his skin, matting down the hairs that should have stood on end. But Danny's face was silent. His lips never twitched, not even as he smudged the blood on his cheek with the corner of his sleeve. He wiped the blade of the knife off on the corner of his jeans, sliding the shining metal against his thigh. "How are you so okay with this?" The voice came from behind him. Slowly, he turned, watching as she stepped through the open door. Her eyes were wide with alarm. Disgust. But there was an acceptance underneath, buried deep below the surface. He'd had that look once too.

A shudder tore through him as he curled up tighter beside Sam. "I'm not." Danny's lips echoed the words he had said so many lifetimes ago, eyes fixed at the swelling darkness inside the jungle beside them. "It's just what needs to be done."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jennifer Mizushima

The tinny ringing in her ears was hard to get rid of.

She knew something was off the moment she was able to open her eyes, her eyes beholding a vision most foreign to her immediate memory. Tall green foliage she had never seen before swayed above her with the slight breeze that caressed them. Beneath her, she could feel not a soft firm mattress, but the supple fine grains of sand parting for her weight to sink through. With a motion not unlike that of a bird snatching its prey, she scooped up some of the pristine white sand beneath her right hand and squeezed her fist tightly, inhaling the musty air that she had grown to detest.

She couldn't even convince herself that this wasn't real.

"I thought so," she muttered, her voice hoarse through her sandpaper throat. "Fate totally fucked up."

There was hardly any sign of human life here, save for the few pieces of debris from the wreck the ocean washed ashore. The island seemed to be teeming with a life of its own, one located far from the slow destruction of other heavily populated cities far beyond its visible horizon. She slowly pushed herself up on her hands, burning eyes surveying her surroundings, and could only confirm the worst. Whoever thought that this was a brilliant time to let loose and party away was completely out of their mind.

Every inch of her body screamed in pain with every move, but eventually Jennifer got to her feet, walking towards the edge of the beach. Far beyond where the ocean lapped against the pristine white sand, there was another world that reminded her of comfort, of memories—probably not the best ones, but they were there, safely tucked away in the dark recesses of her mind. Would they worry? She wouldn't bear to think. Given the choice, she'd gladly stay here and cuss her life away—but there was no one to hear her frustrations.

With a groan that did nothing to soothe her raw throat, she turned on her heel and headed into the rainforest, her bare feet gaining traction as she walked through dirt terrain. The sand in her fist had seeped away long ago, floating back down to the ground where it laid like snow over a bed of grass. So what did it matter if everything around her was dry and musty. There had to be at least one source of water around here where she could drink from.

Jennifer glanced about her as she trekked further into the thicket, rubbing her eyes with her left hand to clear her vision. There must have been room for some form of life here—how else could the island flourish? Colours of vibrant hues utterly foreign to her popped up everywhere in her sight, floating through the air and growing from the dirt beneath her. The strange sounds of birds calling to each other above her head, cooing and squawking, almost soothed her. Above her, she saw a couple large rodents scarpering in the branches, travelling through the forest with ease.

Leave it to humans to be the most useless species in the wilderness. Throw them in this kind of environment, and they probably wouldn't stand a chance.

Her hand snagged upon a large leaf blocking her path as she walked, snapping it off its branch as she held it up in front of her like a shield. Through the rivets of the leaf's edge, she could see some other people she recognized from the ship—the survivors from the wreck—congregating in some open areas in the clearing, either setting up camp near one certain grove of trees or trying to fashion a weapon or two with their bare hands. Jennifer couldn't remember who they were, what their names were—but one thing she did notice was that the stranger who gave her the book last night wasn't present in this party.

Yes, that stranger. He basically called her stupid, yet he still gave her a chance to learn that there was more to the world than all she thought she knew. She didn't even think to retrieve the book he gave her at all before the storm destroyed the vessel.

"Hand over that piece of firewood, would you?" she heard a man shout over to his partner, who duly nodded as he grasped onto a rather thick log and threw it in his direction.

"Oi, what you stand here for? You don't have business here, you go," another person reprimanded her suddenly in broken English.

"Talk about being nice," Jennifer snapped in their direction, turning on her heel and walking down another path. "Just give me a chance to look."

Time was hard to track without a visible clock in front of her, but soon she felt her limbs tire from walking non-stop. Her head continued to swim from all the events that happened before—the spat with the old stranger, the alarms that blared through the ship, the cries of children as they clung onto their parents, the shouts of men trying to keep the ship afloat. The waves below them were enough to buck anyone off the deck, or even send any passenger hurling overboard. If it wasn't the rain that pounded on the ship that caused it to go down, the lightning that struck the signal antenna on the top of the ship did it. She could vaguely recall one certain wave throwing her off the railing, her slippers flying off her feet as she descended with a splash into the ocean, her hair splaying every which way like anemone with the sea's currents.

Why didn't fate let her drown? What more could she do here? What was there left to hold onto while everyone else lived their everyday lives without even remotely wondering what happened to her?

Soon, the ground beneath her turned damp, the dryness paving way for something moist and springy beneath her feet. Her eyes soon snapped up to see a small waterfall, crystalline waters flowing through the brook with slight gurgles and bubbles here and there.

"Water," she managed to croak out before sinking to her knees, a smile of relief crossing her face without a second thought. She stooped down, her hands cupped, and after a quick rinse she scooped some of the life-saving fluid and drank deeply. It tasted fresh, with a hint of something she'd never tasted in the water at home, soon invigorating her with a newfound determination and will.

"Arigato," Jennifer breathed. "Fate might not have fucked up after all."

How quickly the words left her lips--how quickly she'd regret saying them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tajana Morrigan

AESTHETIC OVERDOSE

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Bianca Colombo

Bianca was lost. Not the kind of lost when you can't find your mom in the department store but she's really just a few aisles down. Not the kind of lost when you get off at the wrong subway stop and have to ask perfect strangers for directions. Not even the kind of lost when you decide to take a shortcut and end up in some seedy back alley with no idea how you got there. No, she was the kind of lost that you couldn't come back from. The kind of lost that turns from missing person to presumed dead. She was that kind of lost. And it was utterly terrifying.

Bianca favored herself an adventurer of sorts. Or at least, she liked the appeal of it. The adventures in her books were always exciting and clean, with well-rounded main characters who bravely faced the wilderness before them. Who always had a solution, no matter how dire the circumstances. Who miraculously survived in the end, their stories all wrapped up with a neat little bow. Those were the adventures Bianca liked. Those were the kind she thought she'd have one day. All it took was a catastrophic shipwreck for her to realize just how naïve she really was. Because she'd been trudging through the jungle for nearly half an hour, and the miraculous solutions had yet to present themselves.

It was hot, not stiflingly so, but enough to make you uncomfortable. She knew she was in the jungle because there was a seemingly endless supply of roots for her to trip on every two minutes. Sam had given her a makeshift cane that was more like a glorified twig, and then promptly run off to find his long lost husband. Bianca had set off on a mission of her own, armed with nothing more than her twig and her anxiety. Because as stoic as she might have seemed, she'd inherited her mother's nervous disposition. To a lesser extreme, of course, but she couldn't help the rise of panic in the back of her mind. The what if's and doubts that threatened to take over at any moment. Bianca forced them down, they wouldn't do anyone any good. But they still lingered, still nagged at her from the dark recesses of her subconscious.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to send an anxiety ridden handicapped teenager on a trek through the jungle by herself. Not that she thought she couldn't handle it, Bianca was just as competent as anyone else, but she could be realistic. She understood her own limitations better than anyone, and navigating in uneven terrain without a cane was definitely one of them. But Sam insisted, if they split up they could cover more ground. Bianca, however, had no intention of looking for Danny. He was an adult, he could look after himself just fine. She was looking for the little girl she'd met earlier. They'd been separated when the storm hit, but there was a good chance she'd been below deck. At least, that's what Bianca kept telling herself. Because even though this was nothing like her books, she'd be dammed if she let that get her down.

She'd reached the beach by now. The sand was soft, much softer than any other sand she'd felt. Her feet sank at least two inches every step that she took, but she trudged on. The beach was different than others she'd seen before. It seemed completely clear of trash and debris. Well, aside from the random pieces of boat lying around here and there. She'd been here once before, right after the storm. She'd been dragged to shore, by whom she didn't know, and then Sam appeared, bumbling around like an idiot. Not that Bianca was doing much better at that point, but still. If a half-waterlogged blind girl could get around than a fully grown adult man, anxiety or no, that was saying something. Not that Sam was completely useless, he did find her stick after all, but he was a terrible survivalist. And he was a Michelson, a name she'd been quite familiar with. They'd appeared at many of her father's parties, and her mother had even suggested a date or two with their son. No matter that he was a good few years older than her, it was a match made in heaven. Until of course he ran away with another man. Bianca really didn't think about mentioning this to Sam. Imagine how awkward that would be, especially if they got stuck here forever. Which was looking more and more likely by the minute.

The sand was hardening, and the debris from the shipwreck was getting more frequent. She was reaching the shoreline. Bianca wasn't really sure why she'd come here in the first place. Surely any survivors would have made for land by now. But there was that nagging suspicion in the back of her mind. What if she was wrong? What if they'd been stuck, trapped under debris while Sam and Bianca were fucking around in the jungle? What if they'd been here, screaming for help with no one to hear them? Bianca swallowed and took another step, resolve hardening. She had to know.

It was only after a few minutes of searching that her cane hit something. She tapped it again, and a squishing sound met her ears. Her breakfast threatened to come up, but she held it down. It could just be a jellyfish or some other sort of creature. Bianca sank to her knees, cane set down beside her, hands roaming lower and lower. Until she touched it. She recoiled in shock. It was skin. Bloated and waterlogged, but skin nonetheless. She forced herself to remain calm, hands out in front again. She had to know.

It was a corpse, that much was certain. Whoever it was, they weren't small. Bianca breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't the little girl. She traveled higher, past the soaked jeans and cotton t-shirt. It was a woman, flat, little to no curves. But she was muscular and tall judging by the amount of time it took for Bianca to reach her face. A dark thought crossed her mind, but she pushed it back. Could it be? No. Surely not. There were plenty of other tall, muscular women on the ship, right? And then Bianca reached her face. It was bloated, disgusting, probably battered. High cheekbones, long, sloping nose, wide forehead. Bianca's stomach lurched as she ran her hands through the woman's hair. It was short, more like a man's haircut than a pixie cut. It was Hanna.

This time, Bianca couldn't keep it down. She retched for what seemed like hours, but what was probably only a few minutes. She cried from the pain, the bile was scorching her throat and exacerbating her bruised midriff, and from the guilt. The guilt of knowing that in her haste to find the girl, she'd completely forgotten about her bodyguard. Was Hanna really just a bodyguard at this point? They'd known each other since Bianca was ten. Her friend, then. Bianca had just lost her friend, and here she was. Crying like a baby. Completely useless. Just like her parents thought she was. As it turns out, they'd been right all these years.

A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her misery. It was soft, almost delicate, but it grounded her, brought her back from the brink. "Are you okay?" The voice was soft too, male, but not too deep. She could imagine a soft man with soft features to match. She sniffed, reaching up to wipe her nose. It was only then that she realized her hands were covered in blood. Hanna must have been bleeding, and now Bianca had just wiped it all over her face. She shrieked and tried to rub it off, but that just succeeded in spreading it. A hand was at her face now, the other pulling her wrists down into her lap. "Don't worry, sweetie. We'll get that cleaned up." He was helping her stand now, guiding her away from the body. "A friend of yours?" he asked when they were a suitable distance away. Bianca nodded, this time she had enough sense to wipe her nose with her shirt. And that blood was still on her face, becoming increasingly itchy as it dried. She had to get it off, somehow, because she didn't think she could last much longer. It wasn't until she heard the sound of a stream that she realized the man had led her right back into the jungle. She sat, crossing her legs to prevent them from falling into the little brook. The man was still gentle as he washed her face and hands. She couldn't help but feel grateful, as if this strange man was washing away her sins as well. What a stupid thought, she was probably going into shock by now. But the thought remained, until another, more urgent one took its place.

"Is your name Danny by any chance?" she asked, and her voice sounded strange and hollow. The man chuckled, wiping the rest of the blood from her face.

"And who told you that?" So he was.

"I know someone who's looking for you." Bianca stood up, brushing the dirt from her jeans. Danny was back at her side, linking his arm through hers.

"Let's go find him, shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holly Newman

DID NOT HAND IN

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Enrique Rivera

DID NOT HAND IN

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Ceto Veile

LOST AT SEA