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Rated: 18+ · Campfire Creative · Appendix · Action/Adventure · #897714
Having survived the crash, all we had to worry about now was surviving the beast.
[Introduction] They had never met before in their lives, but to survive they would have to work together. It was easier said than done. None of them agreed on anything and no one trusted anyone. When people started dissapperaing, blame was thrown around and witch hunts were started. I, however, knew the secrets of the forest, that is the place I died.

This is the basic outline of the story-

A plane crashes in the middle of the ocean halfway to where it was headed, Sydney, Australia. A handful of people survive to find themselves on an island unknown to any of them. The place seems deserted, not a soul to be found. They soon find themselves being hunted by a creature that might as well be made of shadows, no one has seen it, but every one of them can feel it. Or maybe it's their own paranoia that they fear so much. Whichever it is, people start dissappearing and no one seems to be safe.

This cf is, very obviously, based on the book
'The Lord of the Flies', an extremely good book which I suggest you check out. Bio-blocks if you wish, but they aren't necessary (I'm going to do one), put anything in them you please. This cf is rated 18+ just to be on the safe side, you can do pretty much anything you want except killing off other people's chars. Drugs, sex, do what you please as long as it has something to do with the story.
Name: Sterling St. Jones

Age: 21

Sex: male

Appearance: Sterling isn't really a "pretty boy", but that's not to say he isn't handsome, he just doesn't spend hours at a time in front of the mirror doing his hair and worrying about his looks. If he gets up and his hair is sticking straight up, well than for that day he's got spiky hair, no fuss about it. When it's not sticking straight up in the air, however, his hair, which is brown in color and has a few natural lighter streaks, comes down to just below his ears, fanned out across his face. His eyes, green in color, stare out from behind the strands of thick hair and catch everything that moves. He's a right around average height at 6'1" tall and his body is of medium build. He keeps himself fit, but doesn't really worry too much about thick muscles. He likes to dress in designer clothes, his favorite being Dolce and Gabbana, but he's just as happy in jeans and T-shirts.

Personality: Obviously, he's very laid back and doesn't lose his cool very easily. He's sarcastic and apathetic with a dark sense of humor. Sterling is just as happy being the center of attention as he is watching from the sidelines. He is honestly a very nice guy and can be quite sweet and romantic, though having suffered through a few bad relationships, he is sort of defense when it comes to a possible new relationship. He used to be overweight and at times can be insecure about things like his weight and looks and whether or not people like him, he acts like he doesn't care though.

Occupation: Sterling is a photographer and is currently working for Fusion magazine, a magazine dedicated to pop culture.

Reason for being on plane: Headed to Australia to photograph a hot new actress.


It had to be karma. That was all I could think of. You do bad things and bad things happen to you, simple as that. Not only had I yelled at my assistant, I had neglected to wash my hands after using the restroom. Okay, those things weren't very bad at all, but what else could it be!? The plane was going down, no matter what the pilots said over the intercom and the flight attendants yelled to us, I knew that the plane was going down and we were all going to die.

The in-flight movie had been 'Gigli', that should have been a sign in itself. The lunch that was served was actually quite delicious, but I'd have to credit that as a fluke. What I remembered most was the screaming. A few people were crying, but most everybody was screaming. I just wanted to tell them all to shut the fuck up, but I didn't. The noise the plane was making was something I don't think I can ever forget; A shrill, high shrieking with an undertone of a dull rumble. You could feel the noise in your bones, shaking your body through-and-through.

And suddenly it stopped. The plane leveled out and the darkness that seemed to have enveloped the plane was washed away and the cabin was again bright. But by that time, it was too late. There was a great noise, louder than before, and the plane shook so hard I felt that my neck would surely break. A glance out the window was all it took to confirm my suspicions; There were trees rushing by and I knew that we had made a crash landing. The plane was going so fast and I worried that we would soon run out of land to skid across and we would end up in the ocean, but before that could happen, there was the possibility, and reality, of the plane splitting in two. As we skidded across the ground, and the plane shrunk shorter and shorter, the earth scraping inch after inch of metal from the bottom of the plane, the plane suddenly let out a loud bellowing shriek and the cabin split in two.

Twenty feet in front of where I sat, my knuckles growing whiter by the second as I gripped the armrest like my life depended on it, which it probably did, the front half of the plane suddenly pulled away from my half and I could see the ground ahead of me. It took only another minute or so before my part of the plane came to a stop, but I could see in the distance the other half still moving, and then it was gone. I would later find out that it had fallen over the edge of a cliff down into the ocean below, but at the time, it appeared to have disappeared out of nowhere and I was generally confused. I sat there for the longest time before I even dared to move a muscle, and my body, though I had received no injury to my knowledge, ached all over. I remember that that's when the reality of what had happened hit me. Would I ever be the same? Such bad karma I had.
A Non-Existent User

Name: Dakota Embry

Age: 17

Appearance: The most startling of all Dakota’s features is her hair. It is dyed a rainbow of colors: blue, pink, green, red and black. She wears it in a sloppy pony tail, letting the long bangs fall around her ears. Dakota stands 5’7” and has a slim, fit body. Her skin is strangely pale and unflawed. Here eyes are a faint blue which darkens when she’s very upset. Her friends often call her ‘the human mood ring’. Dakota wears old faded jeans shirts with sleeves that nearly cover her hands. Her shoes have soles three inches thick, to make her appear taller.

Personality: Dakota can be a lot of things; your greatest friend or the most nasty bitch. It all depends on how you treat her. She seems extremely shy at times, but this is only to hide her distrust of people. She is a loner who prefers time to herself. Her friends are not ‘true friends’, she simply keeps them around for something to do. She’s never had a best friend, because she doesn’t relate to anyone.

Occupation: Worked at McDonald’s until she got disgusted with the way they prepare their food. Ran away from home before she could find a new job.

Reason for being on plane: Dakota is running away from alcoholic parents. She plans to meet a man she knows online, who lives in Australia.


When the engine of the 747 began to moan, Dakota Embry knew her bad luck had followed her. The captain and the flight attendants kept assuring everyone that this ‘minor’ difficulty was nothing to worry about.

‘They must think we’re all stupid,’ Dakota thought. The plane jerked dangerously, and she dug her nails into the hand rests on either side of the seat.

“Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap!” someone began to scream. Dakota considered telling whoever it was to shut the hell up, until she realized it was herself. She bit her tongue until the words stopped flying from her mouth, and concentrated on trying to awaken from this nightmare.

In the seat in front of her, a small child whimpered. His mother has gotten up for a moment to use the rest room, and hadn’t returned. Dakota began to unbuckle her seat belt, but a flight attendant appear to admonish her.

“Miss, you must not remove the safety belt.”

“But…” Dakota began.

Cutting her off, the flight attendant said, “It is for your own protection. Please remain in your seat.”

“You don’t….”

Shaking her head, the flight attendant opened her mouth to argue once more.

Glaring sharp, icy daggers, Dakota disengaged her seat belt and rose. When the flight attendant attempted to stop her, she snarled, “Back off, bitch! You put your hands on me and I’ll sue this airline for all it’s worth!”

Startled, the flight attendant moved away. Dakota eased past her, hissing nastily. As she stepped out into the aisle, the plane lurched and she was thrown forward. Her head brushed the side of an arm rest and blood spurted from the wound.

Cursing, Dakota rose to her feet, glowering at the flight attendant, who looked at if she were going to utter those four hated words: I told you so.

Rubbing the quickly forming bump on her head, Dakota sat down in the seat beside the whimpering child. He looked up at her with huge, sad eyes. His mop of black hair scattered hither-thither.

“Hi there, sweetie,” she said kindly. “I’m Dakota. Everything is going to be alright. What’s your name?”

Shaking, his lip trembling in an unexpressed horror, he said, “Arthur.”

“Well, Arthur, would you like it if I sat here until your mommy came back?” Dakota asked, smiling at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Nodding, Arthur popped a thumb in his mouth and stared ahead.

The captain came on over the intercom, and got out the words, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some difficulties, but I assure you…” before the plane plummeted.

All around the dying metal giant, people began to scream. Dakota had an overwhelming urge to join them, but held her tongue. She had little Arthur to worry about, who was balling his eyes out, the terror obvious in his screams for “Mommy!”

Dakota wrapped her arms about the boy, pressing his face against her shirt and chanting, “Everything will be alright.”

Suddenly, the plane hit terra firma, flopping and bouncing about like a child just learning to use of a trampoline. There was a terrible rending sound, and suddenly people were being sucked out of the back half of the plane.

Holding onto Arthur with all her strength, Dakota peaked behind her. The end of the plane had settled amongst the trees, growing smaller as the front continued to move.

The plane hit the edge of a cliff and plummeted off the side, into the raging sea below. Water surged in from the missing back half, sweeping people and seats away. As the giant aircraft sank, Dakota released her seatbelt. She scrambled to free Arthur, but the water had already completely covered him.

“Oh god,” Dakota gasped. “Help me! Someone!”

It was useless to expect any of the frantic people around her to lend aid. Dakota had no other choice but to dive under the salty water, and save the drowning boy herself.

Her eyes stinging, her air supply dwindling, Dakota swam. At first she was sure she would never find him, but finally his hand brushed her cheek.

Dakota fought furiously with the seat belt, until it popped free. She wrapped an arm around Arthur and kicked for the surface. Only, she wasn’t greeted by sweet, wonderful air. Her bruised, bleeding head thumped against the ceiling of the airplane.

‘Oh god, I’ve got to get him out of here,’ Dakota silently screamed. She was not concerned for her own life, but only for the boy who had wept in her arms.

Spinning frantically in a circle, Dakota searched for signs of sunlight. When she spotted a patch of bright seawater, she swam for it.

As Dakota surfaced, she swiftly started for shore, not once looking back to discover that the seat she’d vacated for the one next to Arthur had not remained undamaged. In fact, it had been sucked out of the plane before it ever hit the dirt.

Name: Tara McLean

Age: 16

Sex: Female

Appearance: Tara could never be a model but she’s far from ugly. Her long black curls are her pride and joy, but most think they make her look a bit wild. Her eyes are a very peculiar shade of brown thats almost burgundy and more often then not people think her pretty in a slightly disturbing sort of way since her eyes become an almost blood red when she gets angry. Her face is soft and rounded save for her decidedly sharp chin. Her build always left her quite self conscience. She always thought her broad shoulders and thick bones were more fitting on some sort of amazon instead of a young Irish girl. Her skin is pale and she tends to stick to baggy jeans and black or red shirts which hide her generous curves. When most people see her for the first time, the general impression is shock.

Personality: Tara is generally known as weird. A few years ago her grades started dropping and she because secluded. She knows an insane amount about herbs and holistic medicine. She has a tendency to help strangers but is often quite cold to the people she knows. This isn’t because she’s a bad person, she simply is afraid to get close to anyone. She is known for her ability to curse like a drunken sailor while acting sweet and kind, and is infamous for her contradicting nature. When she devotes herself to something or someone she will do whatever she can to protect and help them. Most people forgo her name and simply call her “Bitch” or “Witch”

Occupation: Tara has worked several shity jobs, but recently broke into journalism which is, in Tara’s mind at least, the next step towards being a published novelist

Reason for being on plane: Headed to Australia to research her next piece, and for an interview with “Amazing Teen” magazine.


When the plane began to lurch, Tara had simply buckled herself in and held her bookbag closely to herself. It was obvious they were going to crash, and Tara had no intention of losing her bag in the fall.

The steady rumbling made her a bit nauseates and when people began to scream like a bunch of squealing pigs, she grit her teeth and let her nails bite deep crescents in her arms. The hysteria was starting to eat though her detachment and her hands moved in frantic shivering movements to stuff her illegally bought cigarettes into her bag and to secure the bag to her back.

She watched a girl with technicolor hair raise from her seat. A flight attendant tried to stop the foolish girl from rising but her face twisted in a scowl and she cursed at the poor flight attendant. ‘You are so gonna fall, girly’ Tara thought, her dull cynical type of amusement still as strong as ever.

The girl with the strange hair took a few stumbling steps before falling on her head. ‘Tolda so.’ Tara thought with a slight grimace. She watched the other girl take a few more steps after picking herself up. She sat next to a small boy and started to comfort him. The image of the sobbing boy was too much for Tara to take so she turned away, lost in her own thoughts and the slow jolting pain the jerky plane caused all over Tara’s body.

Tara was sure she had done something to deserve this. Over and over she wondered if she should throw the cigarettes away. If she should fall to her knees and ask forgiveness for her lifestyle.

She did neither.

What she did, was watch in horror as the seat Technicolor girl had previously been in was ripped away as the whole back of the place was torn off by some unseen devil’s hand.

The screaming of ripping medal rang though Tara’s head and suddenly she didn’t care if she lived or died, she just wanted out of the plane. Her hands flailed helplessly with the buckle, but before she could unfasten herself, probably getting herself killed in the process, the torn and battered section of metal that Tara remained strapped to crashed into a dense cropping of trees.

Tara screamed out in pain as the jarring action of the fall sent her teeth sinking firmly into her tongue. Almost as suddenly as the slight turbulence had turned to all out hell, the scrap of metal that had once been the mid-section of the plane came to a stop right before the edge of a cliff.

Tara looked around as blood ran down her mouth and uttered a single word.

A Non-Existent User
Name: Sonny Riordan

Age: 30

Sex: Yes, please.

Appearance: Sonny is astoundingly, marvelously average. He has short black hair, medium build, stands about 5'8". He has two tattoos. One on his right bicep of a devil smoking a cigar. Another between his shoulder blades of a celtic cross.

Personality: In a word, funny. He loves to laugh and loves to make others laugh. He can be a bit short-tempered at times, but he never holds a grudge. His humor attracts people to him, though he lacks the passion and enthusiasm to be a leader. His distaste for authority doesn't help matters much. He has been in and out of jails his entire life, never for anything major, just the odd misdemeanor every now and then.

Occupation: Comedian/Actor on the verge of hitting the big time.

Reason for being on the plane: Sonny is on his way home to Melbourne after four and a half years working the Hollywood scene.

Sonny's eye flew open as someone started to scream. He looked all around and all he saw was panic, people screaming their heads off as if it were armageddon all around them. Sonny undid his seatbelt and rolled out into the aisle. He had planned to walk to the front of the plane, but the shimmy made his knees buckle and, therefore, he rolled into the aisle and began to crawl towards the front.

Metal groaned right behind him as the rear section of the plane tore away. The tearing metal sounding like a glaring heavy metal riff. The people still strapped into their seats screamed as they fell away into oblivion. Sonny could feel the air tugging at him, so he dug his fingers into the utility carpet and pulled himself forward with a loud grunt. But the air was pulling at him like a thousand damned hands pulling him down into the pit of hell.

"Help me!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, but everyone around him was frozen in fear. "Help me, you sons of whores!"

His fingers gave way and he felt the hard rush of air as he went out the back end of the plane. There was peace for a moment, the clear blue sky and the ocean coming together in a portrait of utopian peace. Then there was a crushing pain as his body slammed into the water and then a terrifying roar as the Pacific swallowed him and then spit him back out again. Waves rolled over his head as he struggled for breath, making his efforts terribly frustrating. He screamed and punched the water, damning God under his breath. But then there was sand between his toes, cool, smooth sand moving across his feet. He quickly gained his balance and screamed as the smaller waves continued to slam into his back.

"What the hell was that about?!" he screamed toward the heavens, hands balled in fists. "Was that necessary?! Huh?!"

Sonny staggered to the shore and fell down in the moist sand, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Then there was another scream and Sonny sad up with a start, his eyes scanning the beach. It was like waking up from a dream, as if at any second he would be back on the plane waking up to the smell of his over-processed airline lunch. He got to his unsteady feet and ran a hand down his face, washing away the confusing thoughts that were coursing through his brain.

The scream came again, more definitive this time. Sonny looked down the beach in the direction of the noise and saw her, hands cupped over her eyes, screaming as if she was being killed. She looked to be about twenty-five, but there was something odd about her, something childlike.

Sonny ran to her and dropped to his knees beside her. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, screams issuing from between her naturally ruby red lips.

"Calm down," he said placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, hey, calm down. It's over."

She screamed even louder and Sonny grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her violently until all at once she disappeared. Just like that, she was gone, almost as if she had been sucked into the ether, taken away from this world in a flash. Sonny fell back on his haunches and shook his head. He suddenly remembered her face, remembered where he had seen her before. She had been on the plane, had been in the seat next to him reading an issue of Cosmopolitan and listening to her CD player. But why had she been so vivid? Why had she even appeared to him at all? He knew the answer to both these questions. Survivor's Guilt. Already it was starting in on him, even before he had time to reflect on what had happened. The girl, the specter, had probably been dead before she hit the water. There was nothing he could have done, nothing anyone could have done to prevent her death.

Name: Navina Mohr

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Appearance: A little over 5'11 with an athletic and voluptuous body that is perfect for lingerie ads. Navi is multi-ethnic (mostly African, Swedish, and Tahitian) this gives her skin a milk chocolate and honey tone. She is not classically beautiful, but rather incredibly striking. Her eyes are a lovely hazel-lavender rimmed in thick, dark eyelashes. Navi’s facial structure is strong but undeniably feminine. Her hair is just past her waist colored light brown with salon multihued blonde highlights. She carries herself with a quiet pride, and her aura is one of complete grace and dignity. Her clothing choices generally consist of high label designer clothes (Gucci, Prada, Armani etc).

Personality: Beneath Navi’s lovely exterior is an inner beauty befit of a princess. She somehow manages to stay sweet and in control at all times. Her mind is incredibly sharp, and she loves challenges of all types. Navi’s sense of humor is a bit quirky, but always witty. Her demeanor is gentle, serene, and kind with everyone she encounters. Navi is an excellent listener and will always take the time to help if she is able. Sometimes, she can be too patient, allowing others to take advantage of her generous heart. Because others step all over her, she, at times, withdraws into herself so that she won’t get hurt. One the outside, she is the sweet and super-nice girl, but no one has ever.

Occupation: Supermodel- which is saying something since Navi is considered short for a model.

Reason for being on plane: Heading to Australia for some much needed rest and relaxation.

Navina was in the restroom trying desperately to do something about the bags under her eyes and to be honest, she was fighting a loosing battle. In the past two weeks, she was lucky to snatch three hours sleep between shoots. According to her manager, the exotic look was “in” now. So, the more Navina promoted herself, the longer her modeling career would last.

As the owner of a multi-million dollar company that she had inherited from her deceased parents, the last thing Navi needed was the money. It had started out as a fun hobby to get her mind off of her problems, but as time went on the stress mounted. Navi, being a person to never complain about a situation, said nothing to her manager about the fact that she was exhausted both mentally and physically. Then two nights ago, in the middle of photo shoot, she collapsed.

Her manager, determined that Navina would be fresh for the upcoming cover of Vogue, set up this mini-vacation for her. She shook off the ever present tired feeling to dab a bit of liquid make-up under her eyes and as she was screwing the cap back on a sharp jolt caused her body to slam into the bathroom wall.

There wasn’t much room in the stall, and Navi screamed as her back hit the stall door. It flew open, expelling her from within. She scrambled to her seat and buckled herself tightly to the chair. Unable to do anything due to a paralyzing fear, Navina sat helplessly watching the other passengers die. Silent tears flowed freely and she couldn’t help but remember how her parents died... An airplane crash.

She pleaded mentally. Ohh please, not yet. I’m not ready to die.

It was so quiet, that's what disturbed me beyond anything else. there were a few seats ahead of me, all of them filled with people, but no one was moving. I didn't see any blood, but neither did I see a trace of life. I heard not a single breath escape the lungs of anyone around me and it was extremely perturbing.

I reached for the seatbelt that held me securely to my chair and pulled the metal clasp loose and pushed the belt away from my lap. There was an unexplainable pain in my lower stomach and I prayed to God that my urethra hadn't been pulled from my bladder by my body thrusting forward and being pulled back by the sealtbelt in the crash. I knew it could happen, and wasn't too rare, in car accidents, so I suppose it could happen in this situationa as well. I didn't move for awhile, just sat and breathed.

In those moments, when I was concentrating on nothing but my breathing, I heard the respirations of the people around me, and I no longer felt so alone. There was a sudden movement to my right, in the aisle, and it startled me. I must have jumped because the person, a young woman, started to run. She was screaming and running and my head was splitting and I had to get up and move. I willed my body to stand and I was suddenly on my feet. I was full of dull aches but I kept moving.

The front end of the plane had been ripped away from the back half, leaving torn and twisted pieces of metal jutting up from the edges of the tear. I carefully wove my way around them and stepped out into the sun. My eyes burned when I didn't give them a chance to adjust to the bright sun as I stared lethargically out at the piece of land I was standing on. There was ocean stretching out to both my left and right; No end to the blue in sight. Behind me there was forest, or jungle, or whatever you wished to call it. A small mountain stood behind that, the peak shouded by a small wisp of a cloud. The plane rushing across the land tore a deep scar across the island and the ocean was rushing into the crevace creating a small river of sorts.

I wrapped my arms around my body and shivered even though it must have been eighty degrees outside. I was trying to take it all in but I don't think my mind could quite comprehend the situation I was in. I felt like laughing and crying and dancing and breaking something all at the same time, but all I did was stare.
A Non-Existent User
When they stumbled out of the water and onto the warm sand, Dakota sat down heavily, pulling the hiccupping, sobbing boy into her arms and rocking him gently. She wiped his wet hair away from his eyes and cooed softly into his ear.

“It’s alright, baby,” Dakota whispered. “We’re safe now. You see? We made it to the beach.”

Whimpering a little less now, Arthur nodded, and between sobs said, “Where is mommy?”

Dakota’s heart sank. What could she tell the little boy? Kissing his forehead gently, she finally replied, “She was in the back of the plane. It is somewhere that way.” Dakota gestured toward the spot the back of the plane had stopped, though she couldn’t see the wreckage from where she sat.

Blinking back tears, Arthur asked, “Can we go find her?”

Forcing her calmest smile, Dakota answered, “Of course we can, sweetie.”

Rising, Dakota took Arthur’s hand and began to lead him down the beach. The shivering boy stumbled and slipped, weakened from the nightmare he had just barely survived. Dakota picked him up and carried him, as they trekked across the sand toward the nearest portion of the plane.

Approaching the midsection of the plane, Dakota looked wearily at Arthur. She sat him down on the sand and touched his cheek with a gentleness unknown to her. She was not the kind of person who took care of others, or offered her sympathy, but the little boy she had rescued had somehow melted her icy heart.

“Sweetie,” Dakota said, “I want you to stay here and wait for me, okay?”

Trembling, Arthur whispered, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see if I can help get people out of there,” Dakota said softly, gesturing to the torn hunk of metal thirty feet away. Before she dared journey into that piece of wreckage, she had to make sure the little boy in her care was unable to see any lifeless bodies. “Now, promise me you will stay right here and wait for me, okay, sweetie?”

“I promise,” Arthur whispered. He lay back on the sand, tucking his arms beneath his head and quickly drifting off to sleep.

Leaning down, Dakota did something that amazed her. She gently ruffled Arthur’s hair, and then kissed his cheek. “Sleep well, precious. You will have much to mourn for later.”


There were broken, mangled bodies strewn everywhere among the wreckage. Dakota’s stomach clenched and she forced herself not to turn around and flee. If there were survivors, she wouldn’t let them die in this iron giant.

Luggage lay everywhere, having fallen free of the overhead compartments. Wires hung from the ceiling of the plane, some still live and hissing with power. Dakota carefully skirted these deadly things, picking her way cautiously around the ruined remains of seats.

“Hello?” she called out anxiously. “Can anyone hear me? Call out if you need help!”

At first the only reply she got was from the electrified wires, and other dying pieces of electronics. Her heart sinking, Dakota began pulling luggage and other debris out of her way, silently praying to a god she didn’t believe in that someone had survived.

Suddenly, a weak voice called out. “Please… over here… I’m trapped.”

“Where are you?” Dakota gasped.

“Here,” the voice came again.

“Keep talking,” Dakota cried, searching desperately for the person who called out to her.

“In… the front.”

“Okay,” Dakota called. “I’m coming for you!”

Crawling over the broken seats as swiftly as she could, Dakota scrambled toward the front of the plane, which really was nothing more than the middle. Debris shifted dangerously under her, but she somehow managed to maintain her balance.

“Where are you?” Dakota asked.

“Here,” the answer came.

Dakota looked up as a hand touched her wrist. “God,” she whimpered. “You’re bleeding all over.”

Staring at her wearily, a girl with a mouthful of blood nodded weakly. “The seatbelt… it’s stuck.”

Pulling a clean, folded handkerchief out of her pocket, Dakota pressed it against the girl’s mouth. “Jesus,” she whispered.

“I think he’s abandoned us,” the girl replied cynically, chuckling.

“If he was ever here in the first place,” Dakota said angrily.

“I’m Tara,” the girl with the bleeding, throbbing tongue whispered.

Smiling weakly, Dakota introduced herself. “Keep that handkerchief pressed against the wound,” she ordered. “I’m going to find something to cut the belt with.”

Turning, Dakota went to search for anything with a sharp edge. She didn’t have to go far before she could something that would work perfectly. A chunk of metal has pulled loose of the plane, and one jagged side of it gleamed in the sun.

Returning to Tara, Dakota began sawing away at the seat belt. It came free and Tara sagged forward weakly. Catching her, Dakota said, “Hey, hey. You’re safe now.”

Sighing, Tara responded, “but for how long?”

Tara pulled her head up with quite an effort and smiled at the grimacing girl.
“They won’t come for us. This place isn’t heaven. Its not hell. Its purgatory.
They won’t come.” Tara said, her bloodied mouth garbling her words, but it
seemed Dakota understood.

“Listen, you don’t know what you’re saying, you’ve been hurt pretty bad. Just
sit down.” Dakota said kindly. Tara recognized her as the girl who had escaped
death. Instead of fighting, Tara simply seated herself on the warm sand next
to the wreckage. Tara knew to stay quiet for a while. She knew what she had
seen, but Dakota seemed like a good girl. One she could possibly befriend, and
Tara didn’t want to say anything that might label her as crazy before anyone
got to know her.

Dakota sat next to Tara and tried to detangle Tara from her pack. When she had
finally gotten it off, Tara mentally checked off her injuries. Her tongue was
bleeding so much she was almost choking on it, and there were hundreds of tiny
cuts over her exposed flesh. She didn’t think anything was broken, but where
the seatbelt had been she could feel a horrible bruise forming. Tara looked up
and saw that Dakota’s previously multicolored hair was becoming an almost solid

“Give me my pack.” Tara said suddenly. Dakota nodded and silently turned it
over. Tara rummaged through till she brought out a huge tin and a bottle of
water. Tara smiled and was glad the bottle had not been smashed in her pack.
The tin was slightly dented, but Tara wasn’t too worried. With slightly shaky
hands, she opened the tin, and the mingled, slightly tangy scent of herbs came
wafting out, overpowering the salty smell of the surf.

Dakota looked at the mingle of seemingly unlabeled herbs with a confused air.
“What’s with those? What are they?” she asked, and looked back down the beach,
as if looking for someone.

Tara followed her glance and remembered the small boy Dakota had been sitting
next to. “They’re medicinal.” Tara said absently as she sorted though them. She
took one small jar out, lifted the lid and smelled the contents before shaking
her head and returning it to the tin. Eventually, after doing this a few more
times, she pulled out a small jar of reddish powder.

Dakota watched as Tara scooped a liberal amount into her mouth and rubbed it
on her bleeding tongue. “What is that?” Dakota asked.

Tara grinned and said, hardly moving her tongue. “Cayenne pepper.

Dakota looked on in something akin to horror. “Damn girl, don’t that sting?
Did the crash knock something in your head loose?” she asked, obviously
questioning Tara’s strange choice of action.

After a moment of laughter that hurt Tara’s bruised stomach, she stopped and
smiled at Dakota. “First, it doesn’t hurt, and second, no, I’ve always been
like this. The cayenne pepper helps stop bleeding, and surprisingly doesn’t
hurt at all. You need some yourself.” Tara said, her burgundy eyes quite calm.

Dakota tentatively raised a hand to her head and winced as her fingers lightly
brushed the bleeding wound. She looked at her bloodied hand with disbelief. “I
didn’t know it was this bad.” she said, almost as if she had to make an

Tara simply nodded. “I know. Most people never know how bad their own wounds
are. But the pepper works. I swear.” she said, and stuck out her tongue as
proof. Though the mess of red pepper mixed with blood, Dakota could see what
she said was true. The blood was clotting and scabbing over already.

Dakota inched nearer and Tara got her to lean her head over so she could wash
away some of the blood with the bottle of water. When Tara has cleared away
most of the blood, she could see one main gash on the top of Dakota’s head.
With a few practiced movements she gently rubbed some of the powder on Dakota’s
wound. Then she grabbed a cloth from her tin and pressed it gently over the
powder. After a few moments, she gently removed it.

Tara was pleased to see the bleeding stopping.

Dakota grinned and looked at Tara’s messy hands. “Thanks for that.” she said.

Tara just smiled softly and nodded. “I’ll teach ya if you want.” she said and
looked around at the thick greenery growing just a bit further up the beach. “I
have a feeling we’ll be here a while. This is. . .a bad place. I think there
might be more dangerous things then plane crashes in our future.” she said.
Tara’s voice was filled with so much certainty, so much fierce morbid surety,
that Dakota shivered.

“Listen, that might be true, but I wouldn’t be saying shit like that around
any other survivors. You’ll scare em.” Dakota said. Tara smiled sadly at Dakota
and nodded. Slowly Tara rose to her feet and brought her pack with her. She had
placed the tin of herbs and the rest of the bottled water back in it, but she
didn’t realize her cigarettes had fallen out until Dakota picked them up and
looked at her with a small amused smile playing across her lips.

“Aren’t you a bit young for these?” Dakota asked, that smile still shining
through the horrible events of the day. “Not that it really matters much now.”
Dakota finished.

Tara sighed. “Well, if it matters, I am trying to quit.” she said with a
little apologetic grin.

Dakota laughed a bit but stopped suddenly as she looked back in the direction
she had come. “Listen, there’s this little boy. Andrew. He’s waiting for me.”
she said. Dakota looked at Tara and she sighed. “Did you see his mother

For a moment Tara was silent. She took her cigarettes and placed them back in
her bag before turning sad eyes on Dakota. “You can check if you want but. . .
I’m pretty sure everyone else in this section of the plane died.”

Dakota turned grim eyes on the twisted heap of metal.

“Well,” Tara asked. “What do you want to do?”

A Non-Existent User
"Buster!" Sonny bellowed as he threw open the suticase and rifled through the contents. "Buster, you better have some shit in here I can use."

The claim ticket in his hand bore a name, Buster Williams. He had torn it from the handle of the suitcase in a fit of rage when it wouldn't open. The locking mechanism had been jammed during the crash and cracking it was a royal bitch. Eventually he did open it, bashing the locks with a small piece of pumice he found on the beach.

Inside the suitcase was nothing but clothes. Boxers, t-shirts, sweatpants, but nothing really useful. Sonny dumped the clothes into a pile and threw the suitcase into the jungle.

"Buster!" he yelled again. "Buster, haven't you ever heard of matches?!"

He stood and walked down the beach where some other suitcases had washed ashore. He came to the first one which was a duffle bag. He tore open the flaps and ripped through the contents. From the bottom of the bag he pulled a pink vibrator. Flipping the switch, he found it to be in working order.

"Not even the right gender," he said with a smirk and dipped deeper into the back. He felt something rubbery on the bottom and pulled it out. "What do we have here?"

The rubber puppet looked a bit like Godzilla, but not enough to be accused of mimickry. Sonny stuck his hand inside the puppet and flexed it's puppet muscles while roaring like a maniac.

"You are one freaky girl ..." he consulted the claim tag, " ... Mabby Kelker."

He stopped for a moment and read the name again. Sure enough, he hadn't read it wrong. The name was actually Mabby Kelker.

"What the hell kind of name is that?" he said, looking around him at the thin air for an answer. "What were her parents smoking?"

He moved to the second suitcase, a smaller pink duffle with Hello, Kitty embroidered on the side. He figured it would save time to move on, but knew that you couldn't judge a book by it's cover, so he dumped the contents into the sand. Along with some cd cases, a few articles of clothing, and a portable cd player were five or six boxes of matches. Two of the boxes were soaked through and four were a little damp, but fortunately one was completely dry and read for use.

"Thank God for pyromaniacs," he said under his breath as he struck one of the matches, cooing as the orange and blue flame danced before his eyes. "And then there was fire."

Navina sputtered seawater out and tried to ignore the steady sting at her stomach. The seatbelt had cut pretty deeply into her abdomen and the salty water wasn't exactly helping to ease the pain.

All around her were debris and body parts. She nearly threw up, but knew that if she did, she would run the risk of drowning. So Navi held it down and swam as hard as she could. Eyes wide and watchful, she saw a strip of land and before too terribly long, Navi collapsed on the sand.

She turned around on her back, grateful to feel almost solid ground beneath her. The sand was so warm and welcoming. In a few minutes, Navina was dozing peacfully, feet still in the water.

As the sun rose higher, she came back from her sweet dreams. Her silk Gucci mini-dress was dry and had shrunk uncomfortably. After all the label did say "dry clean only".

The queasy feeling from before was gone. All she had to do was try to forget the blood and carnage, then she would be fine. Navina looked down at her abdomen to see where the seatbelt had cut her skin. It wasn't too terribly deep, but it was beginning to throb.

"Some vacation." Navi said with a laugh.

There was nothing for her to do but laugh. She had gotten her wish. She hadn't died, but intsead she was stuck on a presumably deserted island with no fresh water, clean clothes or food.

Looking up at the sky she saw a wisp of smoke, and smoke meant a fire. Fire meant that someone had to start it. Navina scrambled to her feet and followed the telltale signs of life.

"Who the hell would make a jungle so thick?" Sterling said aloud to no one in particular. He was carefully weaving his way through the jungle that had been behind the back half of the plane. "I try and go for a walk and I end up trapped ih here," he said. Through the trees up ahead he could see a sandy beach and could hear the ocean. He pushed his way out onto the shore and saw in the distance, some two hundred feet off-shore, parts of the front end of the plane. He looked up and saw the cliff and realized that was where the plane had gone when it looked like it had dissappeared.

"Uh... hi," came a voice from his right. He turned quickly to see a gorgeous girl in a shrunken designer dress slowly approaching him, there was something familiar about her.

"Hello," he said. There was a pause between the two in which they both just stared at eachother. In that time Sterling realized where he knew her.

"Navina Mohr?" he asked, pointing a finger at her.

"That's right," she said, "how did you know?"

"Sterling St. Jones," he said, offering her his hand, "photo shoot last year in London."

"Oh, my God!" She said, "that's right, how could I forget? Those photos were amazing." There was another pause between the two, after which Sterling addressed her clothing.

"Gucci?" He asked, pointing to her dress. She nodded.

"Is that Gucci too, or Dolce?" She asked, looking at Sterling's clothes.

"Dolce." He stated. "Plane crash?" Sterling asked and again she nodded. "Same here." What a stimulating conversation they were having. "Are you cold?" Sterling asked, referring to her still wet clothing as he started to shrug off his jacket.

"Oh, no thank you," she said, "It's not too bad." Sterling dropped the jacket on the ground, it was way too hot to wear it. "You know there's some smoke coming from over there, don't you?" She asked.

"What?" He asked, turning around. There indeed was smoke coming from off in the horizon. "It might be from the other end of the plane," he said, "actually, the plane was more that way," he gestured more to the left of where the smoke was, it looks like it might be on the beach on the other side of that cliff."

"Shall we?" She asked.

"We shall," Sterling said, leading the way down the beach.
A Non-Existent User
Tara had been right in assuming that no one else in the midsection of the plane had survived. There were broken bodies strewn everywhere, beneath fallen luggage and pieces of the cabin.

Sighing, Dakota said, “It’s a miracle you didn‘t die. Everything is torn to shit.”

“Nah,” Tara said. “It’s just luck that I’m still alive. You’re the one who was granted fate’s intervention.”

“What do you mean?” Dakota asked.

“You don’t know?” Tara whispered, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open a bit.

“Obviously not,” Dakota answered. “Tell me.”

“Very well,” Tara acceded. “If you hadn’t gotten up to sooth that child, you would be dead.”

Eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, Dakota gasped, “What?”

“Your seat was sucked out of the back of the plane,” Tara murmured.

“Christ,” Dakota breathed. She collapsed against a pile of fallen luggage and sank to the floor. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and she found it almost impossible to inhale. When the cabin of the plane began to spin, she put her head between her knees and choked.

“Hey,” Tara said, laying a soothing hand on Dakota’s back. “It’s okay now. You lived, and that’s all that matters.”

Nodding weakly, Dakota took a few shaky breaths before rising. Together, the two girls picked their way out of the wreckage and back onto the hot sand.

Arthur still lay on the ground, sleeping away his misery. Dakota carefully lifted him into her arms.

“What now?” Tara asked.

“I don’t know,” Dakota answered. “Should we look for more survivors?”

Swallowing nervously, Tara said, “do you think we’ll find any?”

For a moment, Dakota did not respond. Finally, she whispered, “I hope so.”
A Non-Existent User
Sonny danced around the small bonfire, watching the designer pants and seventy dollar blouses being devoured by the satisfying flames. There was no genuine need for the fire, but somehow it made him feel better about the whole situation. If one could have fire, than one was only a few steps away from civilized living.

The beach was warm, almost delightful. Sonny would have found it quite nice if not for the vivid memories of the plane crash, the people stiff in their seats, unmoving as he called to them for help.

"Bastards," he muttered, stripping down to his checkered boxer shorts. "I am Prometheus, and this humans is my gift to you."

He danced around the fire like a madman, squatting down every now and then, drumming on the ground like an enraged gorilla. He drew a burning piece of clothing from the fire and suspended it from the end of drift wood.

"This divine impulse of generosity is for you mortals to warm your bones and cook your meat. But be wary, for the fire brings pain. It burns flesh and fills the lungs with smoke," as he spoke, shards of burning fabric fell away and singed his arm. "Owwwwww! Shit!"

He threw the drift wood into the jungle behind him and sat down in the even glow of the firelight. After a moment, further smells of burning accosted his nostrils. He glanced back over his shoulder only to find a portion of the jungle floor in flames. Quickly, he grabbed an empty suitcase and filled it with water. He ran to the fire and threw the liquid atop it. But the fire persisted. He panicked, running around like a headless chicken.

"Sonuvabitch!" he screamed.

Suddenly the fire lept and ignited his boxer shorts. He screamed in agony, dropped down into the sand and rolled around until the flames were extinguised. The flesh on his upper thigh was singed slightly, but the burn appeared to be minor. Even though it was mostly out, the boxer shorts continued to burn. He crawled out of them, clawing through the sand, sliding out of the K-mart bought Fruit of the Looms. He layed there on the beach, ass to the tropical sky.

"Are you all right?" someone asked.

Sonny's heart soared when he saw the two people walking down the beach toward him. He recognized one from the plane. The other was a beautiful female, thin, all the right parts in all the right places. And suddenly, he remembered his nakedness.

Navina looked away from the naked man. Sterling glanced toward her. He was sniggering softly and Navi couldn't help but conceal a laugh with a cough. The naked man scrambled into one of the open suitcases and dressed quickly.

"Sorry bout that." He said with a laugh. "Name's Sonny."

"I'm Sterling and this is Navina."

"Pleased to meet you." Sonny said.

"Likewise." They said at the same time.

Sterling shot Navi a look as if to say What if with this guy? Is he crazy or just weird. Navi just shrugged and her gaze landed on an open suitcase.

"Sonny, may I ask you a question."


"Have you been burning my clothes?"

"The tag said Mohr."

"They're mine..." She said glancing over the nine-hundred dollar silk skirt in the fire.

Oh, well-"

"Maybe you should get anything that isn't chared to a crisp back into her suitcases. There's no need for a fire anyways." Sterling said a little sharply.

Sonny looked a little taken aback but started shaking the sand fron Navina's clothes. She didn't know what to say. Obviously Sonny hadn't meant to ruin her things, but at the same time few people had ever stood up for her like Sterling had. So intead of saying anything, Navi beant over and began clearing the sand of the various items. Sterling did the same.

Her dress began to dry under the sun and the shrinking was beginning to make breathing incredibly difficult. She looked into her suitcase, grabbed a pair of short shorts and a bikini top.

"Thanks for helping, but I desperately need to change."

Excusing herself, Navi went just far enough into the jungle so she couldn't be seen by the two men on the beach but close enough to find her way back. She undressed quickly heard as she was tying her top, heard a noise that made her scream. She ran out of the trees and straight into Sterling. He held her tighly, but gently by the arms.

"What happened?"

"I, I don't know. I heard this noise."

"What kind of noise." Sonny asked.

"It sounded immense... The first thing that went through my mind was that it might be hungry, so I screamed and ran."

"It was probably just, I don't know, a monkey or something," Sterling told her, "they have those here, right?" Navi frowned and shook her head.

"No, it wasn't a monkey." She seemed sure of it and who was Sterling to say she was wrong. "Aren't you going to go see what it was?" She asked. Sterling sighed.

"Well," Sterling said to Sonny, "you heard the lady." The two walked into the jungle while Navi stood on the beach and watched them go.

The jungle had become more hot and humid since Sterling had been in there last. Everything was so green that it was giving him a headache. Various bugs made their respective strange noises around the two monster hunters. Sterling spotted a disgustingly hideous spider clinging to a tree and shuddered.

"Maybe it only likes girls," Sonny said suddenly.

"What?" Sterling asked as the spider started to slowly climb the tree.

"The monster," he said, "maybe it's like, in need of a mate and, you know, it's a guy so it needs a female mate and... Navi was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Sterling didn't even repond. "Or not," Sonny said.

The two emerged from the forest after only a few minutes and reported their findings to Navi.

"So there's nothing in there?" Navi asked. "I swear there was, I can't believe you didn't see it."

"Well," Sterling told her, jerking his thumb toward Sonny, "this guy had some ideas about what it might have been, but I don't think you want to hear them." There was a long pause between the three as they took a moment to think about what they were going to do next. It was kind of wierd, this situation they were in. The silence was broken by Sonny.

"You guys want some candy?" He asked. "I found some in this suitcase." Man, this guy was wierd.
A Non-Existent User
"I got some Sprees and some Skittles," Sonny said, his Austrlian accent coming out thick. "Also found salted peanuts."

He sounded like the Crocodile Hunter which he was prone to when scared. Whatever had scared the girl was now playing with his own fear. He looked down at the silver ring on his finger. He wondered what Sandra would do when she found out about the plane crash. The years apart had not been good for their marriage. It had been almost six months since he last laid a finger on her, longer since he had seen his two boys. They had turned for a month earlier. Sonny had wanted to be there for their birthday, but work kept him from enjoying the day with them. He hoped beyond hope that this ordeal would end soon so he could finally put things right with his family.

"The hierarchy of needs dictates that we build a shelter," Navina said. "I think we can manage that, don't you?"

"I think we need to look for other survivors," Sonny said after a moment. "Some of them might be in need of help."

Sterling shook his head and sat down in the sand with a loud sigh, "I doubt there are any."

"Begging your pardon, but I saw a disturbance in the jungle up there," Sonny commented, pointing to the mountain in the distance. "And I know other people were sucked out of the plane."

"There's no way they would have survived that," Sterling said, drawing a serpentine figure in the sand with his finger.

"I survived it," Sonny kicked the sand, erasing the figure before it could take full form. "Someone was watching over a piece of shit like me. Maybe that same someone was watching over some of the others."

Sonny walked down the beach quickly. Sterling and Navina followed at a short distance. He knew that he had been quite a sight, crawling through the sand naked. They probably thought he was quite insane. It was true in some respects. He had never really been one to apply modern conventions to his own life. Things that other people thought quite quirky or abnormal were commonplace to Sonny Riordan.

What a rescue team we make. Navi thought to herself. How are we supposed to help others when we can't help ourselves? Each of us is as pathetic as the other... Me, worst of all. Screaming over some stupid noise in the jungle. Navi laughed sarcastically to herself.

"What's funny?" Sterling asked.



"Look at us, a photographer, a model, and a, uh, what is it you do again, Sonny?"


"Right... So we have a photographer, a model, and a comedian, all of us city-bred, lost on a deserted island mouting a search party to who knows where, to find someone who may or may not be there. I just found it a little ironic."

"Huh, irony that is some funny shit! I should use some of that in my next act." Sonny guffawed. "Just think in twenty years when we all tell our grandchildren about this, they'll be laughing at us."

"Great, something to look forward to." Sterling said as he rolled his eyes.

"Come on you two, we still have a ways to go." Navi sighed.

That said, the three began to make their way inland. Navi shuddered as they hit the line of trees. She was not looking forward to going back in there. She didn't know what was there, but she was sure that she didn't want to meet it. As far as Navina was concerned, she would rather face a group of gang members in a dark alley, than come in contact with whatever being made that nose the last time she had come into the jungle.

Unfortunately for here, there were no alleyways on this island. All that was here was sand and flora. She would just have to deal with whatever came and hope to God that she could handle it with the help of her new friends...

Name: Dani O'Banyon

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Appearance: Dani's appearance is deceiving. Although she is very tiny, at about 5'1, and small boned/slender, beneath her clothes lies the body of a modern day warrior. There is not a spare ounce of fat on her muscular frame, which is marred by numerous scars, courtesy of countless knife fights and close quarter gun raids. Dani is a former merc, from a family of mercs; 4 generations of them, in fact. She is trained in hand to hand combat, weaponless fighting and every form of gun, knife and explosive device known to the modern world. She could build a nuclear bomb out of spare parts if she had too, but Dani's primary focus is bringing down drug lords, since her childhood friend (and their entire family) were wiped out in the crossfire between opposing sides....innocents slain over property rights.
When the FBI approached her about coming to work for them as an undercover operative, Dani's family was aghast, but against all their protests, she signed up with the Agency and has been working with them ever since. After a particularly harrowing assignment, during which her right lung was punctured in a vicious battle with her cornered prey, Dani is now on official leave from the Agency, return date unknown.

Personality: Dani is very quiet by nature and very much a loner. Her profession has only added to her reserve. Although she is a lovely woman, people never notice anything beyond the glacial pale blue of her eyes. She often unnerves other with her stare, and most are often wary of her, until they get to know her; for, although she is reclusive, Dani is both kind and thoughtful, and a much better listener than she is a talker.

Occupation: See above

Reason for being on plane: Dani has leased a small cottage on a remote part of Perth, the most isolated city in the world. She plans to stay there indefinitely, until the dark shadows are gone for good. She doesn't know how long it will take, or if she will ever be okay again. But she has to try. Until she can see others as human beings and not potential enemies, she will force herself to stay alone. There is no other choice.
Before leaving the wreckage, Dani gathered up her equipment, keeping on eye on the mainlines for excessive smoke. She crawled under the seats, ignoring the staring eyes of the dead, looking for her black blade. She couldn't bear to leave it behind, even though she knew she was just being sentimental. She didn't really NEED the blade. She just wanted it. It had been a gift from her father; his way of giving her his blessing, grudging though it might be, before she joined the Agency.
And more times than she could count, it had saved her ass.
No matter how many times she told herself that she was crazy for thinking it, a part of her continued to believe that there was something magical about the blade...that perhaps, somehow, her father was watching over her, whispering to her, reminding her of the right moves to make, so that her life wouldn't be forfeit.
Then she found it, wedged under the right hip of an overweight, middle aged man, Rising to her feet in one fluid motion, Dani slid the blade into her right boot and ran, jumping over the tangled weave of bodies lining the twisted, shattered remains of her cabin.
Jumping through the open doorway, Dani landed far below in a crouch, arms outstretched, perfectly balanced.
She rose, looking around her, eyes sweeping restlessly across the unfamiliar landscape.
All around her, carnage reigned. Broken bodies, sightless eyes, severed limbs....scattered and piled, decorating like some mad artistic one man show. But Dani was unmoved. She had seen far worse.
Her head lifted, ears pricked at the faint sound of someone's voice, calling in the distance. What was it she heard?
Dani wasn't listening for the words. She was listening for the meaning behind the words.

© Copyright 2004 cypruss, xx-xx, Mary The Gypsy - Still Wanders, xx-xx, Daizy, Phoenix Rising, (known as GROUP).
All rights reserved.
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