A shrill, piercing shriek rent the air, Martin’s eyes snapped open, he was alive. Joy flooded through his battered body, instantly turning into fear as he saw what was happening. Before him, flung in a writhing heap was Tom and the boar, a life or death struggle. The horror was only short lived for the pain in his leg was so strong he faded in out of darkness, unaware of his surroundings.
In the last second before the wild boar had smashed its tusks into Martin’s body, Tom had managed to spear tackle the boar, diverting its course. Now they were trying to get the better of each other. Tom had managed to grab onto the beast’s tusk, which in turn was tossing its head about like a crazed bull, it rolled and Tom was forced to let go of one tusk. The boar began charging at trees, dragging Tom through the dirt. Finally it succeeded in getting rid of him along a ragged plant, his shirt snagged on a branch and he was battered against thorny leaves. With an enraged grunt, the boar’s stout body shot off into the undergrowth, away from the two boys, its squeals becoming fainter until they couldn’t be heard anymore.
Tom tried to get up, but found he was strangely paralysed. His head swam and his vision blurred, in and out of focus, he could barely make out Martin who lay in a heap at the base of a tree and seemed strangely still, he tried again to get up, but his body wouldn’t respond.
‘Stay awake, stay awake,’ his voice seemed distant and quiet, his vision tunnelled, narrowing into a single point of light, ‘must not fall asleep, must stay awake must sta…’ his eyes closed.
Silence. A bird call, hesitant and shy, its sing song voice questioning. A haggard groan. Silence again. Slowly the day wore on and gradually the air began to vibrate with the normal tropical vibe again. Birds cawing and insects buzzing as the sun began to set, the fingers of light reaching through the forest, now turning a blood red, as the day died and night was born.
Tom lay torn and bleeding in the middle of some bush with unusually long thorns and strange beautiful flowers, which glowed white in the dying light. Slowly he opened his eyes, his head felt numb and his body ached.
‘Where am I? What happened?’ his voice echoing hollowly in the twilight forest. Some thorns were embedded inside his skin, and as he started pulling them out he realised that they’d excreted a liquid into his body, each puncture was red and inflamed, they hurt more when he pulled the thorns out so he decided to leave them in for now.
He stood up, immediately face planting in the dirt in front of the bush, he screamed as he felt more thorns pierce the skin around his ankles. With an extreme exertion of strength he managed to get to his feet without toppling over. He staggered over to the nearest tree supporting himself on it. He could feel the rough bark scraping his skin, hear the rustle of a branch as a startled bird took off somewhere above him. He shivered despite the warmth. Am I hallucinating? Tom had had supersonic hearing for a split second, unless he was going completely crazy.
Slowly he regained his strength and with it came his memory, suddenly with a start he looked around for Martin and saw him where he’d been lying when he passed out. There was a pool of blood surrounding him and his leg was a mess, his breathing; harsh and uneven. As Tom approached his body he realised Martin was conscious.
‘He..hel..help, I don’t think I can walk back by myself.’ It was the hoarse whisper which escaped Martin’s mouth that scared Tom the most, it made him realise just how serious being shipwrecked was and that the chances of getting out of it were very slim at best. Forcing the depressive thoughts from his mind he went to help.
‘Don’t worry about it.’
He lifted Martin up from under his armpits and draped one arm around his shoulder, semi dragging him to another tree where they rested, it was then that Tom realised they were lost.
‘Do you know the way back Mart?’ Tom asked.
‘Urghh, can’t memba… sorry.’
Tom nodded his head, leaving Martin he looked for a place to climb up high. He grabbed the branch of the nearest tree that appeared easy to scale and swung himself up, the rough bark cut into his fingers but he was too tired to feel it, he climbed higher and higher until finally he reached the crown of the tree. He looked around searching for a hint of the blue of ocean and finally glimpsed it in the direction they’d been headed. Behind them however was a mountain range that seemed to go from one end of the island to the other, grandly silhouetted by the setting sun.
He slid down the tree and attempted to pick Martin up, but the strength had left his arms and his head was spinning strangely. Out of his fading vision loomed the beautiful face of the girl they’d been chasing. A strange tingling shot through him, Tom felt his hear beat speed up, as goose bumps erupted all over his body. Fear was etched into every corner of her face. Tom tried to explain to her what was going on, but found he couldn’t speak. He felt himself spiralling down into blackness.