Lock

A week later

“All right, all right. Enough,” I say, pushing the small knife away.

“But I’m not done yet. Your beard is half-shaved now,” she says.

“I don’t care.”

“But I do,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “It stings my face.”

I raise a brow. “Tell me you don’t like the tickling between your legs.”

She blushes and chucks the small knife into the warm water. “Lock. Stop it.”

I laugh. “Sorry, I can’t help it. I just don’t like sharp objects that close to my face.”

She washes her hands and grabs a piece of fur, using it to swipe the leftover hair off my face. “There.”

“Does it look good?” I ask.

She smiles. “Yeah …”

“So nothing’s changed.”

She rolls her eyes, which makes me grin. “So … you ready?” I ask.

“For what?” she asks.

“The fish, remember? I would let you shave me, and you’d cut up the fish.”

“But I haven’t even shaven you completely.”

I shrug. “So? Half is enough.” I run my hand along my chin to feel it. It’s quite stubbly now, but there’s still hair, so that’s good.

“Besides, you’ll have to learn how to prepare food other than just stuff you plucked off the plants,” I say.

“Fine.” She sighs, cleaning up. “You go grab the fish; I’ll go grab the tools.”

I do what she asks and set everything up for her. Then I get to work on my arrowheads.

“I’m sorry, little fishy,” Jules mumbles as she cuts off its head.

I can’t help but let out a laugh.

I taught her how to catch a fish with my spear, and now she has to clean it and prepare it for eating. It’s difficult, but she’ll get the hang of it. Once she throws aside her guilt, of course.

“It’s not funny,” she says.

“Yeah, it is,” I say.

She’s struggling with it, and I get it, but she’ll get used to it in no time if she keeps practicing.

“I’m just saying sorry because I’m killing it,” she says.

“I know,” I say. “But it’s already dead. It can’t feel anything.”

“Well, it could … a minute ago.”

I shrug and chug down my water before I continue grinding away at the stones to form perfect arrow shapes.

“It’s … cruel,” she mumbles, cutting off the scales.

“No, it’s not,” I reply.

“We’re killing animals,” she scoffs, gazing up at me.

“So?” I shrug again. I don’t understand why she hates doing it so much.

I mean, I love animals too … but a man’s gotta eat.

“It just feels wrong, okay?” she adds.

“So you don’t eat anything but leaves at home?” I ask.

She frowns. “No.”

“Fish too?”

She nods.

“How do you get it then?” I ask.

“From the store.”

“Right. But there’s no store here. If you want to eat, you have to hunt.”

She sighs as she slices the fish and takes out the insides like I showed her. “I know …” She still cringes and makes weird faces as she does it, as if she’s about to pass out. “I feel guilty.”

“Don’t be,” I say. “Animals exist for food. Animals eat animals. It’s nature,” I reply.

She nods a few times. “I’ve studied that plenty of times. But I still feel like there should be a better way.”

“Like what? How does your store get the meat? Do they kill the animal?”

“I guess.”

“And it feeds how many people?” I ask, raising a brow.

“Millions across the world, I suppose.”

“So you made a farm out of animals,” I say. “We don’t do that here. I kill what I need to survive. Is that cruel?”

She shrugs and looks down at the fish. “I suppose not, when you put it that way.”

I smile and gaze down at the arrowheads, which are finally sharp enough to use.

“Done,” I say as I get up from my tree stump. “You?” I ask.

She cuts the fish a few more times and then says, “Yeah.”

“Throw it in the box with the rest. We’ll eat it tonight,” I say.

She goes inside to store the fish and clean up, washing her hands in a separate water bowl. She even made some kind of frothing mixture made of herbs that supposedly keeps the tiny animals at bay, the ones that were almost invisible.

It still amazes me what all she can do with leaves. I wish I’d known all that. It would’ve made life much easier. But I guess it is, now that she’s here. She’s even been trying to teach me how to do it, but I’m not a fast learner.

As she rubs the sweat from her forehead, she mumbles, “What now?”

I’m glad she’s so eager. She’s finally settled on working hard here on the island, and she hasn’t said a word about wanting to go home in a few days, so that’s good. I just hope it stays that way.

I grab my arrowheads and attach them to the sticks, then I find my bow in the hut and bring it out. She looks at me with questioning eyes, which makes me grin. “Now, we hunt.”

I grab her hand and pull her into the jungle. We both have a flask filled with water tied around our waist, so we can easily hunt for a couple of hours without going thirsty. Perfect.

I already taught her how to shoot an arrow by using trees as targets. But it’s time she participated in the real deal.

I pull her through until we get to the spot where the monkeys are. The moment they make a noise, I stop in my tracks and so does she.

“What?” she whispers.

I place my finger on my lips. “Shh.”

Jules looks around while I grab my bow and place an arrow on the string. I eye the area above me. I spot one and point at it. Then I pull back the string … and let go.

The arrow blasts through the air. The monkeys screech. A loud thud sounds through the jungle. The monkey’s been hit.

I smirk to myself and wink when she gazes into the distance, searching for the animal. “Whoa …”

“Now you try,” I say, shoving the bow into her hands.

“What? Shoot an animal? Me?”

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging. “You want food or not?”

“I can eat leaves.”

I lift a brow. “For the rest of your life?”

She makes a face.

“So you don’t mind getting cold in the winter?” I ask.

She frowns. “What does that have to do with it?”

“Fur, remember?”

She takes a deep breath and sighs. “Really?”

“Yes. Fur. We need it, just like food. Now c’mon.” I nod my head in the right direction.

“What? Now? I haven’t even practiced this—”

“Just try it. I’ll help you.” I throw her an arrow and search for more monkeys, walking around until they make more sounds. However, Jules is still in the same spot she was before. She seems frozen to the ground, staring at the arrow.

I pause and turn, beckoning her. “C’mon. This way.”

But she won’t come.

She won’t even glance my way.

Her hand begins to tremble … and so does her entire body.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, frowning as she drops the arrow on the ground.

She immediately turns her head my way and gasps as she sees me. Her eyes are bewildered. Her body language like that of a bird about to fly away to safety.

“I … I …” she mutters. No full words leave her mouth.

What did she see that startled her?

What happened when I wasn’t looking?

Her eyes widen.

Then she turns around and runs.

“Wait!” I scream, holding up my hand, but it’s no use. She doesn’t look back.

Won’t even say where she’s going.

Or why.

* * *

Juliet

I run.

I run as fast as my legs can take me.

As far as the horizon goes.

I don’t look back.

Don’t hesitate.

I have one destination, and I’m heading there right now.

The moment I held that arrow, I knew.

I remembered.

It marks the beginning of the end.

Tears form in my eyes as I wade through the jungle back to the place I once came back to life. That place that held my memories … the place I left my home behind.

The moment I spot the metal wreckage, or what’s left of it, tears run down my cheeks. I run across the field, multiple times, scanning the ground. Everywhere and anywhere, nothing’s left unchecked.

I scream the moment I see it. I’m unable to stop the pain from gushing out of me. I’m delirious on my own thoughts and the images flashing through my head.

One moment, I’m on the ground between the lush greens, and the next, I’m in the sky, whipped from side to side. The hellish noise of the helicopter hitting the ground replays over and over in my mind.

But one clear sound stands out the most.

Something ticking against the window.

Another tick.

Then a bang against the metal.

It all came crashing down.

Because of this.

I stare at the small pebble between my feet, not too far away from the helicopter.

Except when I take a closer look, it’s not a pebble at all.

It’s an arrowhead.

And the stick to which it was applied to is lying right beside it.

My throat clamps up, my lungs refusing to suck in oxygen.

I hold the pebble in my hand, which shakes the longer I stare at it.

It’s not a dream.

I always thought it was, but it wasn’t.

Like pieces of the puzzle falling together, everything begins to fit.

It’s not a coincidence. It never was.

The sudden crash.

The hatred Lock exudes for humans.

The guilt that dripped off him whenever he looked at me.

Him thinking I was dangerous.

It was all because of this.

An arrow.

Holding it tightly in my hand, I gaze across the field and continue my search … until my theory is proven right.

Another one.

I stare at it with blatant disgust, the anger marring my face.

Marking my soul and tainting this isolated island.

“Jules?”

His voice brings my blood to a boil.

How dare he.

How dare he come here and defile this graveyard.

I didn’t ruin this jungle … he did.