Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jacob’s mind was racing with confusion and realization.  His emotions struggled with desire, longing, fear and unknowing. 

As he approached the blanket he knew at once it was in fact the same blanket he had been laying on just before he came to consciousness earlier. 

How could this be?

He took glances in all directions, his eye sight finally content with the ever burning sunlight all about him.  He saw no signs of footprints, save his own across the white sands and nothing that trailed out through the tree line that lined the beach within peripheral sight. 

He knelt down to the blanket and gently folded it into a small bundle.  After watching countless survival shows and not yet knowing what had happened to the plane, his luggage, the other passengers and the stewardess, he felt that leaving the blanket here was probably not the smartest thing to do.  He scanned the beach one more time before he climbed back down the opposite side. 

Knowing that continuing on much longer would be a fight for his life in this heat and finally coming to terms with the fact he was near starving and thirst, he would have to find some place to bed down for the night.  Some place out of the sun that continued to beat down upon him like an anvil. 

There was an overbearing resilience in Jacob’s mind that played on him.  He knew all too well the things that his mind was struggling to get a grip on were simply not possible.  Even if he had found the blanket in which his unusually realistic dream had shown him, it was not necessarily in stone that that event had taken place. 

His thoughts swam in an ocean of contempt and although it seemed answers to his questions were close, he knew they were also miles away.  He tucked them away for the time being and concentrated more so on the tree line for a suitable place to call home.  The storm clouds were still roaring in the distance, though now they were moving far away and nearly disappearing over the distant horizon. 

He walked slowly between some tall palm trees, which crisscrossed in a fashion that looked inviting.  As if by some miracle, he began to notice a wave crashing the shoreline nearby, with a bright blue haze of fabric taking hold of a rock sitting in the sand.  He laid the blanket down and approached the hue, coming closer to the water’s edge.  The water was crystal clear, and the scent of fish misting off the setting tides was over-bearing. 

He knelt beside the rock and removed the piece of blue nylon.  It was a rope that had somehow wedged itself into the sand.  He pulled, producing a long trail of rope heading into the surf.  He walked slowly into the water still holding onto the rope as he did so in an attempt to keep his balance.  He went about twenty feet into the water, the waves now crashing against his upper thighs and eventually came to a bundle afloat. 

The smell of rotting meat hit him in an instant.  He knew what was attached to the rope at that point as the incoming tide was turning the body over and over as they made their way to the sandy shore. 

The child was not more than 10 years old.  His face was twisted in an expression of horror and fear, as his pale bluish-purple skin was bloated in the heat.  Jacob’s heart skipped a beat and he froze, unable to determine mentally what he should do.  Although his primal instincts told him to turn and get the hell out of here as fast as possible, he felt compelled to move the body out of the salty ocean. 

He felt a familiarity with the boy, like he had seen him somewhere before but he couldn’t quite place the image in his mind and his memory, although usually spot on, was clouded and full of fear.  He pulled on the rope, slowly pulling the body into shore until finally he and the young boy were both lying on the white sands. 

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and walked back into the trees.  He searched for a suitable place and dropped to his knees.  He began to dig, using only his hands in the sand and mossy earth he dug for hours it seemed.  The sun’s heat was getting stronger and he felt like he would faint at any moment if he were to continue. 

His mouth was dry and his tongue was a sticky, slimy mass that made him cough and choke when he took in a breath.  He climbed out of the small hole and made his way back to the beach.  Clearing the tree-line he searched once more for the boy who he had pulled out of the ocean and onto the beach but saw no signs of him. 

He ran as fast as his aching limbs could carry him, into the waves and searched maniacally in all directions for any signs.  He saw none.  He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and he knew it wasn’t long before he had a complete mental breakdown.  The boy was gone. 

He walked, feet dragging the sand, back to the blanket and sat down next to one of the palm trunks. 

He couldn’t continue.  His feet stung with blisters and he began to slowly remove each of his shoes.  His feet were bloody and covered in tiny cuts and sores.  The sand had acted as sandpaper in his shoes.  Rough abrasions lined both the tops and sides of his feet.

He leaned back against the tree, and felt the heat finally taking hold of him.  His vision was beginning to blur and the headache that ever pounded he knew was due to dehydration.  He was forced to die, in the most beautiful place he had ever seen, in the oddest and most unusual of circumstances.  Coming to terms with that notion had him feeling like he was losing out on so many things in life.  His life was headed down a path of greatness and now…

His thoughts were broken by the sound of something moving in the forest.  He turned his head but saw nothing.  He scanned the darkness beyond the vines and undergrowth and caught the slight hint of red, but it was soon covered by trees.  Something or someone had been there.

He managed to get to his feet and walked slowly through the small paths that lead through the dense jungle.  It was a slight slope upward and his ever aching muscles occasionally would buckle under the pain and he would nearly lose his balance and fall.  He moved as quickly as he could, trying to listen ever so often for sounds of movement in the trees in front of him.  He continued on, up and down small hills and inclines and would often catch a small hint of red moving through the trees in front of him.  He had left his shoes back at the beach, knowing that he could move better and faster without them as they only hindered him greatly in this type of climate.  Occasionally, though, he would step on some type of thorn bush or thistle and his feet would sting and although he forced and willed himself to keep moving, his teeth were gritted the whole time. 

Suddenly up ahead of him, a small clearing appeared.  When he entered the clearing, he was standing at the edge of a small meadow.  Tropical flora surrounded him on all sides and he searched in all directions for signs of the figure he was following.  He saw no one. 

Am I losing my mind?

He felt nauseous, and knelt down to the ground and began to dry heave.  His body convulsed and he coughed and spit up only mucous as no solid or liquid remained in his body.  He stood and steadied himself, his blood not catching up to his abrupt vertical change had caused him to grow dizzy and his vision to disappear suddenly for a brief moment before returning. 

When he opened his eyes once more, there before him stood the boy, still bloated and purple-skinned.  His eyes were now fixed in an evil and menacing expression as he only stared directly at Jacob as if to study him.  Not knowing what to do, Jacob stood frozen, unable to speak or move.  The boy moved his lips but no words came out.  Suddenly Jacob’s headache began to pulse even more and he dropped to his knees due to the pain. 

A voice rang out in his mind, dripping with anger and pain, “you should not have survived.  We all suffered in the end and you survived.  You will know our pain and feel our anguish.  You will die and join us.”  Jacob’s vision blurred and he could not bear to open his mouth to speak.  He saw the boy walk towards him and as the boy’s hand was nearly to his throat, he passed out.