25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Micah
Before the Rescue
I stare down at the barrel of the flare gun I have pointed at my face. One flare left, and one chance to make that chopper come back. It would also be an easy way to end it, other than letting myself starve.
It’s been two days since I left the others… since I left London. I’ve spent the whole time in a daze, dreaming of what it will be like if I pull the trigger and make it all go away. I’m sure the pressure of the gun would blow my brains out before my body could even comprehend the pain.
“Don’t be a fucking cunt,” Maison’s voice echoes from the depths of the woods, and he appears to me like wind and mist. I glare at him, hoping he disappears into oblivion.
“Did you hear what I said? Don’t be a fucking cunt. That’s such a bitch move, man. Even for you.”
My lip quivers and my body shudders at hearing his voice. It’s not real; it’s a memory. This fight happened when we were freshmen, and I threw popcorn at his face while we were watching a movie. I was just fucking around, and the guy lurched off his seat and punched me in the nose. Our fists flew after that, and Mom grounded us for breaking a crystal vase.
We spent two hours doing chores and refused to speak to each other until Maison decided he wasn’t mad any longer. We made eye contact, and he flashed me his stupid smile. Then we cracked up, and everything was good between us again. Twin talk, we called it. We could always communicate without speaking, even when we hated each other. Because that’s what we did. We fought, and we made up. We hated each other until someone messed with him, and then I saw red and wanted to fuck them up.
Except this isn’t a fight. I’m furious with him right now, and his baby face isn’t going to make me forgive him for leaving me.
“You’re not even fucking real. Why don’t you just disintegrate, Maison?” I spit out.
He doesn’t. He just stands there, staring at me like a ghost from hell. The pain and suffering of his loss is unbearable. It matches the love I have for London.
Too much emotion. It’s eating me alive.
He takes a step toward me, then another. “I’m as real as it gets, brother. And you know I’m right. If you use that gun on yourself right now, you’ll kill her.”
I don’t look at him. I refuse to respond to a ghost.
“She’s already dead,” I tell him as my finger plays with the metal trigger. It’s cold to the touch. “No one is looking for us. It doesn’t fucking matter if they saw an airplane. This landscape is huge, and there are probably hundreds of islands. We’re lost out here.”
Now I’m confident I’m certifiably fucking insane.
A cool breeze brushes against my skin. Instead of looking at him, I watch the pile of dead bodies a few feet away from me. That’s how fucked up I am; out of all the places on the island, this is where I chose to go.
He sits beside me like we used to when we would sit in silence and gaze at the water. “You don’t know that,” he says. “And you could always make a fire. If anyone can make this island burn, it’s you.”
“She’s better off dying soon. And she’s sure as hell better off without me.”
“That’s not fucking true either, man. ”
I look at him now, sitting beside me. I fully realize he’s not real and that I’m talking to myself. But I’m happy I’m not alone.
“I left her, man. I hurt her so many times, and I let him have her. How could she ever look at me again? I’m possibly the worst thing that’s ever happened to her.”
Looking back, there are countless things I wish I had done differently—like not being born, not existing. I can’t live without her, but I can’t live with her knowing how sick I am.
So I don’t want to fucking live.
“Yeah, you probably are the worst thing that’s happened to her. You’re fucking difficult and moody, you have a dominating personality, and you’re crappy at expressing your emotions.”
I scratch my scalp with the gun. “Alright, Maison. I get the fucking point.”
“But she loves you, and she needs you, man. You’ve got to figure this out. Don’t give up on her.”
“I need to get better,” I spit out. “I need to deal with you and all my shit before I can ever see her again. I’ll only make her life worse if I’m in it.”
“Then do it. Heal your mind, Micah.”
“I don’t fucking know how.” My mind’s been dark for so long, like I live in eternal night, which is probably why I prefer the midnight hours.
I rise and stare at the lifeless corpses in front of me. I stand back a few feet and clutch the fuel canister, nearly the last of my provisions until I can locate the rest of Nigel’s supplies. With bated breath, I approach the bodies and toss the fuel on a few of them. The frigid Arctic winter has sucked all the moisture out of their bones, leaving them dry and brittle.
Like kindling.
If they want a fire, then I’ll give them a fucking fire. I’ll burn this island down if it means saving her.
Before I light the flame, I look for any sign of my brother. He’s gone, at least for now, leaving me alone with these bodies lying in wait.
I flick the flame using my fire starter, and it takes no time to spread to the other bodies. One after another, they start to burn, melt, and begin their process of rebirth. I step back as far as I can as the fire catches on the nearby trees.
May their souls rest in peace.
Mine is the one that needs saving because right now… I’m about to burn in hell.