CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.
that's what big sisters do.

LENNON.

                We had traveled so far into the jungle that it took us quite some time to make it to the second crash sight. When we made it there, we began calling out Coach Stratford's name as we searched the area frantically for him. If he wasn't there, I couldn't imagine he would be anywhere else. And so, he had to be there. He just had to be.

                  "Stratford!" I yelled into the air, spinning in a full circle as everyone else looked all around me.

                   Now that the flames and smoke had cleared, we could see that there wasn't much left of the rear of the plane. Debris was all over the clearing, but not a single body or proof anyone had even died on that end of the plane in the first place. It was strange, to think that people had been there and then they weren't—the explosion had turned them into nothing.

                  "Over here!" Ivy suddenly exclaimed from where she stood at the tail of the plane.

                   We all rushed over and when my eyes fell on Coach Stratford, it took everything in me not to throw up on the spot. From his bicep, his left arm was hanging off, arteries and joints covered in blood, barely holding it together like string. His arm had been completely maimed—and there was no saving it, and maybe no saving Coach Stratford.

                  "Is he..." Evie stopped mid-sentence, her eyes pooling with tears as she wrapped her baby blue cardigan further around her body for comfort.

                    Hattie crouched down in front of him, trying her best to avoid looking at his mangled arm. She reached out, pressing her index and middle finger against Coach Stratford's throat. Everyone held their breaths, watching as she felt for a pulse. If he was alive, it was barely. He looked like a fucking zombie sitting there, blood all over his clothes and his skin a ghostly blue.

                    "He's alive," Everyone collectively let out the breaths they had been holding in relief. "Help me move him." She ordered, lifting his back from where it had been resting against the tail of the plane.

                   Ivy and Kitty crouched down, offering help. Ethan took a step forward but June's hand caught his wrist. She locked her eyes on his, "Ethan, you don't have to." She told him softly, giving his hand a squeeze. I watched the moment pass between them as they shared a look.

                   "It's alright," He assured her, reached up and giving her hand a squeeze back. "Besides, I'm the only one that can lift him." He added reasonably. That might have been true, despite each of us being athletes and reasonably strong, Ethan was stronger than all of us combined and Coach Stratford wasn't a small guy. We needed him if we had any chance at getting him back to camp.

                     Hattie pulled off her sweater and wrapped Coach Stratford's arm in it, making him suddenly jolt awake with blood curdling screams. Everyone jumped back slightly as Ethan pushed him back down, "You need to stay still!" Hattie exclaimed, her eyes burning with tears as she tied the sleeves of the sweater together. It was the only possible thing that could hold his arm together until we could get back to the camp and figure out what to do with it.

                    Ethan helped restrain Coach Stratford as he kicked and screamed, making me flinch. I couldn't begin to imagine the pain he was in. We'd all had our injuries and I'd had my fair share of them too, but nothing compared to a limb hanging off. It must have been excruciating.

                    Ethan lifted Coach Stratford over his shoulder as Hattie held onto the man's arm, keeping it together. Coach Stratford was howling in pain, "We need to get going!" Hattie urged, making Ethan nod before he began walking ahead with Hattie by his side.

                  I turned my head at the sound of someone throwing up and my eyes softened to see that it was Evie. Kitty was rubbing at her back, trying to console her as she sobbed, "It's alright, Evie. It's gonna be—"

                   "His arms fucking hanging off!" Evie screamed at her sister, her voice breaking, eyes wide and wild. Kitty flinched back slightly. Evie ripped herself away from her sister, stumbling backwards. "So stop saying it's alright! Nothings alright! I am so fucking sick of this shit!" She was sobbing through her yells, her shoulders rattling and I felt my heart grow heavy. Evie was similar to Maggie in ways, being that she was petite and sensitive. That made me cast a glance at Maggie who was crying on Abby's shoulder who tried her best to comfort her—which wasn't the greatest since Abby wasn't really a hugger.

                    I took a step forward, "You're right, Evie. None of this is okay," I said, making Kitty's head whip towards me, her eyes narrowed. I threw my hands up. "It's not! Nothing is okay here, in fact, it is extremely fucked up!" I exclaimed at her, making her divert her gaze.

                  I stepped closer to Evie, "But listen to me, your sister is only trying to help, alright?" I told her softly. I immediately felt Kitty's eyes boring into my skull. I reached for Evie, putting my hand on her shoulder. "Because that's what big sisters do. We'd do anything for you—even if it means lying. So please, just try and understand that Kitty only says these things because she loves you and wants to protect you." Evie's lips were trembling as she looked into my eyes, mascara stains under her eyelids.

                    I glanced to my left, catching June's eyes that were glossed over, "We do stupid shit and we put ourselves in trouble. And we know you don't ask us to do that, but we'd do anything for you," I croaked, my eyes burning as I held June's gaze. She tilted her head, a tear trickling down her cheek. I smiled through my tears, turning my attention back to Evie as I sniffled. "So, please, just bare with us whilst we say the stupidest of shit just to make you feel better." Evie looked at me, and then Kitty who's eyes has softened.

                     She then threw herself into her sisters arms, bawling. Kitty hugged her back, resting her chin on top of her head. Her eyes momentarily met mine and she gave me a nod which I returned.

                   June walked up to me, looking at the ground, "I'm not mad at you for doing whatever it takes to protect me, fuck, I'd do the same thing if the roles were reversed," She began saying, avoiding my gaze as she spoke. She looked up, catching my eyes and I noticed how hers were watering. "I just can't stand how you're always willing to put yourself in danger for everyone else without even thinking about it—it really fucking pisses me off." She confessed, twisting her lips to stop them from trembling.

                    I tilted my head, letting out a sigh before I embraced her, "I'm sorry, June. I'm so sorry," I apologised, holding her just as tightly as she held me. I rested my chin in the crook of her shoulder. "I'm sorry for not realising how much my choices effect you, but—" I pulled back, holding onto her shoulder. Tears had slipped from her lashes. "I can't promise I won't keep doing it, not as long as we're out there. Someone has to look out for them." I softly told her, rubbing my thumb against her arm.

                    June sighed heavily, "I know, Len," She said, but it sounded as though it pained her to say those words. She reached up, her hand falling over mine. "I just—dammit, can you just take better care of yourself? Please? It's all I ask." She said, growing slowly frustrated, struggling to articulate how she felt and what she wanted from me.

                  I nodded, "I will," I assured her before glancing in the direction of where I could hear Coach Stratford's screams. "We need to go." I reminded her, earning a nod.

                   I slipped my hand into hers and pulled her after the group, following the sound of Coach's wails. I could feel my skin sweating, my heart beating erratically. What the fuck were we supposed to do? He had single-handedly the worst injury we'd come face-to-face with. How the fuck were we supposed to help him when his arm was almost completely severed?

              When we arrived back at camp, everyone was running around like headless chickens. Hattie had barked out orders, telling us what she needed and we more than willingly retrieved her desired things. I was standing by the plane, tearing up one of my shirts to use to wrap around Coach's arm in a makeshift sling, watching on as everyone fussed over him, trying their best to help.

                  Imani walked up to me, a dazed look in her eyes. She was holding a bottle of water, though she hadn't opened it yet. I think it was more so to give her something to do with her hands, "His arms literally hanging off," Was the first thing she said, staring straight ahead to where Hattie had Coach Stratford propped up against one of the fallen logs, trying her best to make him feel better. Imani turned to me, her eyes wide. "Lennon, his fucking arm is hanging off!" She exclaimed, her voice breaking.

                    I grabbed her, pulling her further away before her hysterics caught onto the rest of the group. I could see where she was coming from, what happened to Coach Stratford was traumatic. It might not have been the worst thing we had seen, after what happened to Nora and Hailey. But he was alive—he was alive and in a lot of pain, and none of us knew what the fuck to do about it.

                     I clamped my hands on Imani's shoulders who was breathing heavily, her bottom lip quivering, "Lennon, his—"

                   "I know, Imani. I know," I spoke over her, nodding my head. I lowered my gaze onto hers. "You need to keep it together, alright? Just like you told me. Fucking breathe, alright? Just breathe." I told her, rubbing at her arms as comfortingly as I could.

                  Imani gulped in air and then swallowed. Her body relaxed a little before her gaze drifted to Coach Stratford, "Len... what are we supposed to do?" She croaked in a small voice. She looked at me, meeting my gaze. "He needs—he needs a fucking hospital. As much as Hattie has helped us recently, how the hell is she supposed to help him?" Imani was only voicing everyone's concerns. We didn't know. We didn't know how we were supposed to help him, or if we could even save him. It was nearly impossible.

                   "We just have to try our best, okay?" I assured her, nodding as I spoke. "We need to make him comfortable, try and ease his pain—"

                    "Ease his pain? Lennon, his arms hanging off! Ibuprofen isn't going to help!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up, her eyes wide and teary.

                   I let out a deep breath, trying to collect myself, "I know," I told her. I wasn't delusional, I knew there wasn't a lot we could do for Coach Stratford—but we had to at least try. I met Imani's eyes. "But what else are we supposed to do?" My question was rhetorical. None of us knew. I didn't. Imani didn't. No one did.

                 Imani shook her head, diverting her eyes as tears slipped from them, "We never should have looked for him." She whispered under her breathe before moving to sit at the open door of the plane.

                I stood there, taking in her words. I understood what she had meant. She wasn't trying to me cruel or mean. Ignorance was supposed to be bliss. If we hadn't gone searching for him, we would never have found him—and we would never have had to look at him be in such pain.

                 I took a moment, gathering my thoughts before jogging back to the crowd. Everyone was speaking over one another, all trying to figure out ways to help Coach Stratford, "He's not gonna fucking make it in this condition!" Abby was exclaiming, in the middle of an argument with Kitty.

                  Kitty threw her hand out towards the man, "He can hear you!" She yelled back at her. "And he is going to make it! He just needs—"

                 "Needs what? A whole new fucking arm?!" Brooke screeched, her cheeks blotchy from crying—not because she particularly cared about Coach Stratford, but for having to witness him being in so much pain and his mangled limbs.

                 Ivy threw her hands up, "Can everyone just shut the fuck up for a minute? I'm trying to think!" She barked out, brining her hand up to rub at her temple. Her cheeks were red, eyes watery and the vein on her neck was sticking out.

                    Pushing my way through the group of arguing teenagers, I grabbed onto Hattie's elbow. She looked exhausted—and I couldn't blame her. Since we landed, she had taken it upon herself to become our doctor. She had tended to everyone's wounds, made sure we had enough nutrition and cared about each and every single one of us. She hadn't stopped since we landed—always making sure we and our injuries were okay. And now, she was face-to-face with the worst one she had encountered.

                     I locked my eyes onto her blue ones, "Hattie, be honest, what chance does he have?" I demanded over all of the arguing, trying to keep the conversation between us. If there was one thing Hattie and I had for each other, it was mutual respect. We had both stepped up in different ways. We were honest with each other; and I was betting on her being honest with me in that moment.

                 Hattie tucked her bottom lip under the top one and looked down at Coach Stratford, seemingly analysing him. Then she met my gaze, "Slim. Very slim," A shaky breath escaped my lips. Hattie inhaled sharply. "It's almost impossible to stop the bleeding—and even if we do, there's no fixing his arm. It'll slowly get infected and it'll kill him." I found myself looking at Coach Stratford. His skin was pale and covered in a layer of sweat, his eyes flickered open and then shut again. He was barely holding on.

                    I looked at Hattie urgently, "Is there anything we can do? Absolutely anything that might save his life?" I pleaded. If there was anything we could do, no matter how little the chances were, we had to do it.

                      Hattie looked down to her feet and it was in that moment I realised there ws something we could do, but she didn't want to say it out loud. I felt my stomach churn as I gripped onto her tightly, "Hattie, tell me what we can do." I demanded in a stern voice, my fingers gripping onto the skin of her arm.

                   Hattie worked up the courage, inhaling and closing her eyes. When she looked at me, she had stopped crying, "We amputate it."

              AUTHORS NOTE

               let me know what u thought of this chapter!

                 — taylor xx