ATTEMPT 3- FAILED LUKE

We'd been at this raft for days, patching it up, lashing new pieces of bamboo, making it as seaworthy as possible - not that I think it would pass any inspections. It just needed to get us to a nearby island fucking alive. We also needed to get there quickly - Josh's leg was looking like shit and there was a faint red line running up his thigh which Sarah said was not a good sign. I saw the panic on his face but we didn't talk about it.

She'd boiled seawater, washed out the wound, and smeared on some herbal paste Josh had read about in one of his survival journals. And while mango was good for his boredom, it wouldn't kill an infection. If it did, Josh would be immune to infection by

now.

Finally, the sunset, and I did my best to get comfortable on the sand - not fucking possible but exhaustion would take over at some point. It always did.

A crackling whip of thunder tore through the silence, and I shot upright just as thick raindrops began pelting down. I scrambled to my feet, looking out at the once-

peaceful beach, now a thrashing mess of rain and wind, trees bowing under the force of the storm. "Oh Fuck!" Josh yelled as his hammock swung wildly, then crashed to the ground.

"Get up!" I shouted as Sarah. I started grabbing what I could and put Josh's arm over my shoulder to help him up.

04 07

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need to get to the cave by the waterfall-now!"

***

clung to my skin and smelled faintly of wet earth. My neck ached from where I'd slumped against the wall, and the gritty taste of dried salt was still on my lips from the storm. For a moment, I lay still, letting the sounds around me filter in- the soft

out sore muscles and standing up. Josh lay sprawled on his back a few feet away, his mouth slightly open, one arm over

with my foot. "Hey, rise and shine

fly, but

where we were. Then her gaze fell on me, and she nodded, grim but awake. I helped her up, and the three of us shuffled outside, feeling the weight of the night's chaos hanging he As soon as we stepped out of the cave, the destruction hit us like a punch to the gut. The jungle, once thick and lush,

ATTEMPT 3-FAILED

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broken trunks jutting out. like fractured bones. Branches and leaves littered the ground, and the air smelled of wet foliage and the aftermath of a storm. The

muttered, his voice breaking the

journals with a smug little

"Nice of you to mention it now," I muttered, but he just shot me a smug

see what might've happened to the raft. But the second my

the beach, tangled in

sad little flags, flapping weakly in the breeze. The raft we'd spent days working on, carefully lashing every piece together, was reduced to a collection of

the wreckage in silence. The small hope I'd nurtured, that maybe we could pull this

0907)

ATTEMPT 3-TAILED

265-chry

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