turps

When the sun rises it does so slowly, red bleeding across the ocean, consuming the waves. It should be beautiful but all Ray can imagine is blood, spreading and pooling. He looks away, past the fire to where the others are sleeping. In the last few hours Mikey's flung out his arm, his hand on Frank's chest while Bob's got his head tucked up close to Brian's back. In the defused morning light their injuries are lessened, cuts and bruises made soft but as the sun rises they begin to stand out in stark relief. Frank's visibly swollen toes, the dressing on Mikey's face spotted with soaked through blood, the bruising on Gerard's face extending even further, the deep cut in Worm's arm and Bob's hands, grazed and painful to see. Only Brian looks undamaged, curled up with his head resting on his hand.

"You should have woken me," Bob says, his voice deep and rough with sleep, he moves away from Brian and looks at Ray through a tangle of hair. Impatiently pushing it back he sits, unable to suppress a groan. "I'm too old for this shit."

Ray throws dry bark onto the flames and it catches fire with a crackle. "I hear you, hopefully tonight we'll be in beds."

"Hopefully," Bob says, and Ray doesn't call him on the way he sounds, he doesn't want to talk about the odds of rescue and how long it could actually take -- not yet.

Sitting with the blanket pooled on his lap, Bob rests his head on his hands. "I could really do with coffee and a shit load of painkillers right now."

"We've got the second," Ray says, looking toward the first-aid kit. "Take some of those."

Bob shakes his head. "I'll cope, other people need them more."

Ray doesn't press the issue, he knows Bob will only say no. Arm against his chest, he listens to the waves wash up on the shore, tying to get caught up in the rhythm, using it as a distraction against the way his leg throbs and each breath hurts.

"I really need to piss, like right fucking now." Frank wakes abruptly, agitated and looking panicked as he attempts to move. When he does so he gasps and falls back, his eyes screwed shut. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Settle down, idiot." Bob grabs the empty water bottle that's next to Gerard's head and moves close to Frank. "Use that."

Frank takes the bottle without a word. It's not like pissing in a bottle is anything new, they've all done it at one time or another and the sound of liquid hitting plastic prompts memories of long journeys, the kind where you're crammed together in van and traveling throughout the night.

"Done," Frank says, screwing on the lid. He hands the bottle to Bob and then lies back, the blanket pushed down his body, a visual exercise in someone pushing back discomfort. "Remember when I threw the bottle and it hit that car?"

"You were always throwing bottles of piss," Bob says, and he puts the bottle out of sight behind a nearby tree.

"Whatever," Frank says, because it's true, he always was throwing the full bottles out of the window of the van. "I meant that time with the jag, remember, the piss was so fucking concentrated it looked like coffee when it hit."

Ray does remember that time, and how the driver followed them for miles, headlights flashing as Frank and Gerard hung out the side windows, laughing as they yelled insults.

"You're lucky they didn't catch us," Ray says, and when he starts to smile he can feel the cuts on his lips peel open. Licking at the blood, his tongue snags on one of his broken teeth and he tries to discretely spit out blood and drool.

"Did someone mention coffee?" Gerard asks, blearily looking around.

"You're awake!" Frank pushes himself upright and reaches for Gerard, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling so he sprawls against Mikey. "When did you wake up? No one told me."

Bob sits back down next to Brian, one hand on his back. "He woke up last night, and no one told you because you were asleep."

"You should have woken me." Frank frowns and keeps holding on. "Are you okay? You didn't wake up. I thought you were in a fucking coma."

"No coma," Gerard says, and kneels so he can reach across Mikey for a lingering hug. "I'm fine."

Frank looks at Gerard's face. "You don't look fine."

"You don't look particularly healthy yourself," Gerard replies.

"Hello." Mikey's arm and hand appears from under Gerard. "I'm suffocating down here."

"Shit, sorry." Gerard pulls back, looking worried as he examines Mikey. "Is your ear still attached?"

Mikey gingerly pokes at his ear. "I think so."

"Good. Mom would kill me if I took you back with a missing ear," Gerard says, and sits up and pushes his hand through his hair, making it stick up even more.

"Is Brian awake, too?" Frank tries to see past Mikey and Gerard, looking frustrated when he can only look so far. "Someone help me sit up."

"You sure?" Bob asks, already standing and moving to Frank's right side.

"Positive." Frank lifts his arms slightly and Mikey and Bob take a secure hold.

"On a count of three," Bob says. "One. Two. Three."

Together they lift and despite how hard he tries Frank's unable to stop yelling out in pain as he's moved the short distance so he's propped against the trunk of the tree.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Mikey says, staying close and Frank clings to him, his hands white where they're pressed against Mikey's back.

Rummaging in the first-aid kit, Ray pushes out four pain-killers, says to Frank, "Open your mouth." He does, and Ray gives him the pills and a drink of water, then looks away, giving Frank the time to regain control.

"We need to get out of here." Agitated, Bob takes a step toward the ocean. "I'm going back to the plane, see if I can send another message."

Ray reaches out, grabbing hold of Bob's shirt. "Not yet you're not.” Despite the way Bob glares, Ray keeps hold, never looking away. "You need to sit and drink some water and we'll plan what we're going to do." Bob still looks defiant, and Ray's got no choice but to play dirty. "What if Brian comes around when you're gone?"

"That's low," Bob says, but at least he's stopped trying to pull away. "I can't just sit and do nothing."

"I know." And Ray does know, that no matter what it takes, Bob will try and save them all. "But sit a while, you need to drink."

"Fine," Bob says with ill grace, and sprawls down next to Brian.

Gerard bites at his thumb nail as he looks around, at the fire that's dying down, the first-aid kit and bottles of water lying next to Brian's carry on bag. "Fill me in, what did you bring back last night?"

"We got the blankets and pillows." Ray indicated the blankets, most of which are strewn on the ground now. "Bottles of water and Frank and Brian's carry on bags."

"And the first-aid kit," Bob continues.

"What's in the bags?" Gerard asks.

"The usual shit in mine, hand me my bag, Mikey." Tipping out the contents on his lap, Frank sorts through them. "Magazines, ear plugs, spare watch, guitar picks, moisturizer, stuff for when I get the shits, antibacterial hand wash, lip balm, comb, mirror, eyeliner, Mikey's I think, hair tie, Ray's, a dog chew and a few M&Ms. Looks like my book and iPod are gone."

"I found that." Ray gingerly sits to the side and pulls Frank's iPod out of his jeans pocket. "It was on the beach."

"Awesome." Frank looks at the display, thumbing at the dial. "It's still works."

Gerard indicates Brian's bag. "What's in Brian's?"

"We haven't checked," Ray says, it doesn't feel right to check when Brian still hasn't come round, just lies on the sand, the blanket over him and his eyes wide.

"Someone needs to look." Gerard curls his hand over Brian's shoulder. "Bob can look through it, Brian won't mind."

"What if I mind?" Bob says, and unzips the bag. Taking out the contents he sets them on the sand. A cell phone and PDA, a black striped diary held shut with a rubber band, multiple pens and notebooks, a rubber stressball and a small wash bag and at the very bottom, a large bag of Twizzlers. "I knew he was hiding those." Keeping out the Twizzlers, Bob puts everything else back into the bag and then opens the plastic candy bag close to Brian's ear. "Hear that you fucking Twizzler scrooge, I'm eating your Twizzlers. All of them."

Brian doesn't react at all.

"Give him time," Ray says and reaches for a bottle of water. "Twizzlers and water, a breakfast of kings."

"I'd rather have pancakes," Frank says glumly. "With syrup and fake bacon on the side."

Mikey takes the Twizzlers that Bob hands his way, giving one to Frank. "I want coffee, lots of it."

"Me too," Gerard says, holding a Twizzler limply in his hand.

"Sausage, bacon and eggs for me," Worm puts in, and Ray thinks of what he wants to eat, his stomach growling as he pictures scrambled eggs and bagels. A Twizzler doesn't cut it, especially when he finds it so hard to chew.

Bob takes a sip of water and then hands the bottle to Worm. "We need to split up after breakfast. Go back to the plane and try the radio again, and we need to build a shelter... just in case."

"Makes sense." Gerard chews slowly on one side of his mouth. "Mikey can stay here with Brian and Frank."

"What? No," Mikey protests, pointing his Twizzler at Gerard. "I can walk."

"I know you can," Gerard says, his expression stern. "But I want you to stay here."

But..."

Gerard cuts Mikey off. "You're staying here. That's final."

Mikey doesn't protest again, just glares at Gerard, who doesn't flinch under the relentless stare.

"Painkillers." Breaking the awkward silence, Bob takes hold of one of the boxes and throws them so they land next to Frank. "Take some, I'm going back to the plane."

"I'm coming with you," Gerard says, and slowly stands. When he's upright he rests his hand against the side of Mikey's face and after a brief pause, Mikey relaxes, leaning into the touch.

"Be careful, both of you, and stay out of the sun or you'll get boiled to a crisp." Gerard nods, but before he walks away, Mikey says. "When you get there. If you find my bag. My meds."

"I'll bring them back," Gerard promises, and Ray's stomach is like lead, all too aware of the cocktail of medication Mikey needs to get through the day. It's yet another worry on top of the ones he's already carrying, and he needs to get away and start moving, anything but sit here and give in to his barely controlled fear.

Ray points at the trees behind them. "I'm going to explore that way, gather some more bark."

Worm starts to stand. "I'm coming with you."

"You'll need two shoes if you're going exploring." Bob crouches down and starts to undo his sneakers. "Wear these."

Ray shakes his head, unwilling to even think about taking Bob's shoes. "You need those. You'll be climbing inside the plane."

"I'll be walking on sand first," Bob says, and kicks off his sneakers. "And we found Mikey's shoe, remember? I'll wear that and yours. I'll be fine."

"I can't..."

"You can," Bob cuts in, and kicks his shoes over to Ray. "You don't want to step on a snake and get bitten."

Ray toes off his shoe and pulls on one of Bob's. It's warm inside and Ray curls his toes against the damp sole. "Snakes, wonderful."

"Don't step on them and you'll be fine." Bob picks up Ray's sneaker, swinging it by the lace and the bright morning sun turns his hair brilliant gold. "If you meet a polar bear..."

"I'll run like fuck," Ray says, and tugs at the grimy white laces, tying them in a double knot. Standing, he waves a goodbye to Mikey and Frank and walks to the trees, Worm at his side, and steps from bright sun onto cool dimmed light. The ground feels spongy under Ray's feet as they walk and he shades his eyes and looks up at the coconuts and large leaves, mentally working out how to construct a shelter. Seeing one of the giant palm leaves lying on the ground he picks it up, fingers against the smooth surface as he imagines tying leaves together, a barrier against the sun and if it ever happens; rain.

Worm pulls a handful of bark off one of the palm trees, tearing at it until he's holding a strip in his hands. "You think we'll be here long enough to need a shelter?"

"I hope not," Ray says, and walks further away from the camp, until when he looks back he can't see the ocean at all. The further in they go the quieter it becomes and Ray gathers fallen leaves, holding them in his arms. They're slightly damp from being on the ground and the edges scrape against his skin, a back and forth brush as they walk.

"I keep hoping we'll find a mansion, hell, even a shack would do, something to show we're not alone." Worm says. His white undershirt is filthy, stained with blood and dirt "I thought I was trained for anything, but this. This is something else."

Ray kicks at a pile of rotted vegetation with his foot. "I doubt anyone trains to crash on a deserted island," he frowns, trying to remember something he'd read online. "I read this thing once. Ten things to do if you were stuck on an island."

"I'm guessing one of those points wasn't to do with serious injuries," Worm says.

Ray clasps the leaves tighter. "No, but it did say to eat coconuts, it's just a case of reaching them."

As one they look up at the coconuts, bunches of them high above their heads. Worm presses his hand against the trunk of the tree, pushing hard. "I could try and climb up, but," he indicates his body with his hand.

"I could give it a try." Ray eyes the length of trunk. He's never been one to climb trees but he's willing to give it a try. Setting down the leaves he takes steps back and then runs forward, jumping at the trunk. He doesn't get far, the rough surface scraping against his hands as he clings on, only a few feet above ground. Ray's got no idea how he's going to get higher, already his ribs and thigh are so painful all he can do is hold on and breathe.

"I don't think that's going to work," Worm says, standing close to Ray. "If you let go I'll try hitting them with a branch."

Ray loosens his hold, sliding to the ground. "Palm trees don't have branches."

"Fuck," Worm mutters, his forehead creased as he glares up at the coconuts. "We can keep looking. Some have to have fallen to the ground."

Ray picks up his bundle of leaves, says, "Sounds like a plan."

~~~~~

They head back to camp, where they find Frank sleeping, lying heavily against Mikey's side.

"He been out long?" Ray asks, and sets two coconuts and the pile of leaves on the ground. "Do you know how hard it is to collect coconuts?"

"About an hour, and no," Mikey says. "Did you climb and get them?"

Ray holds out his hands, showing his scraped palms. "I tried, but we found these ones. They sound fresh."

Mikey shifts a little, making sure that he doesn't disturb Frank. "I'll take your word for it," he hesitates and then says, "I'm worried about Frank, he feels hot. I think he's getting sick."

There's nothing Ray can say, it was inevitable wounds would get infected, and he knows it's more than likely Frank's just the first, and there's not a thing he can do to help. He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking out at the sea. "Rescue should be coming soon."

Mikey rests his head against Frank's, says quietly, "I hope they hurry up."

"Yeah," Ray says, and sits next to Brian. "Has he said anything?"

"He seemed more aware earlier, like he was listening to us talk."

It's good news, not much, but Ray's grateful for anything just now. Tilting his hips so his hurt thigh is off the sand he looks at Brian. "It's about time you started coming back to us, Bob's about out of his mind."

Brian blinks, looks at Ray with wide eyes. "Bob?"

"He's gone to the plane, we crashed, remember?" Ray says, deeply relieved that Brian's said anything at all. The brief moment of awareness doesn't last long, and Brian reverts to staring blankly into the distance. Ray itches at his scalp, his fingers snagging on the tangles in his hair. "Bob's going to be pissed you talked when he was gone."

Mikey stretches his leg, bare toes against the leaves Ray dropped to the ground. "Are you going to make clothes?"

Ray raises his eyebrows, images of them all dressed in leaf skirts dancing through his mind, which surely has to be a sign of how tired he actually is. "I was thinking more along the lines of a shelter."

Mikey runs his fingernail over a spot of dried blood on his neck and if flakes off, falling onto his shoulder. "That’s too bad, I'd pay to see Gee in a leaf skirt."

Frank opens one eye. "Me too," he winces, his mouth a tight line. "Is he wearing one?"

"No, Ray's making a shelter," Mikey says, sounding disappointed. He looks at the pile of leaves. "Are you going to tie them together?"

Ray hasn't really considered the practicalities of the shelter, just that he's going to build one. He picks up a leaf, running his fingers down the spine. "I think so. Worm's seat's still on the beach. We can drag it here and use it as a wall."

"I'll bring it over," Worm adds, turning to leave.

"Not yet." Ray lifts his sweat-damp hair off his neck. "The sun's too high, we can go later, after lunch."

Worm lowers himself down. "Twizzlers and water?"

Ray picks up the bag of candy and quickly counts how many are left. "Half a Twizzler, some coconut, too. That's if I can get them open."

Frank closes his eyes. "I'm not that hungry."

"You're still eating," Mikey says. He looks at his watch and then holds his hand above his eyes, looking toward the beach. "They should have been back now."

It's a worry Ray shares, but he tries to deflect Mikey's fears. "Not necessarily. They could be talking to someone on the radio."

Mikey lowers his hand, says, "God, I hope so." Ray couldn't agree more.

~~~~

"If they don't come back soon I'm going to get them," says Worm, standing next to the remains of the fire.

"I'll come with you," Mikey says. He's been on the verge of outright panic for almost an hour now, and Ray knows if Gerard and Bob don't come back soon there's no way Mikey will wait any longer. Ray doesn't blame him, he's close to looking for them himself.

Ray looks at his watch -- again. "Ten minutes and then we'll..." Ray stops talking, his head tilted to the side. "Can you hear that?" Sure he can hear something Ray goes onto the main beach and looks toward the direction of the plane, relieved when he sees Gerard and Bob. They're both carrying bags and dragging cases, long lines behind them showing the trails where case wheels have dug in the sand. Ray hurries over to meet them, trying to take the case off Bob while Worm takes the one from Gerard.

"I've got it," Bob says, and keeps trudging forward, his shoulders bowed and his shirt wet through.

"We kept looking until we found the shit we needed." Gerard flexes his fingers and crosses his arms across his chest. "We covered the pilot, too."

"What about the radio?" Ray asks.

"Gerard sent some messages," Bob says, limping badly in his miss-matched shoes. "I don't know if they went through."

Ray has to believe that they have, it's the only thing that's keeping him going. "We've been making a shelter, well, the roof of one anyway. Worm's got great palm leaf weaving skills."

"About fucking time," Mikey says as soon as they approach. He starts to gently lie Frank down but Gerard waves his hand and drops the bags he's carrying.

"Stay there." Going to his knees he gathers Mikey into a hug, careful of the woven palm leaves that are spread over Mikey and Frank's laps. "It took a while to find everything."

Mikey's got his face against Gerard's shoulder. "I was worried."

"Sorry." Gerard cups his hand around the back of Mikey's head, neither moving.

"Has he said anything?" Ray looks away from Mikey and Gerard and sees that Bob got his arm against his body as he stands looking down at Brian. He looks worried, the Bob type of worried where any emotion is hidden tightly away. Thankfully this time Ray has good news.

"He's spoken a few times, he keeps going in and out."

"Took you long enough, you lazy bastard." Bob sits, looking directly at Brian. "It's about time you woke up, you can help us build the shelter."

"Bob?" Brian slurs, squinting as if he's trying to bring Bob into focus. "I thought you went home?"

"I did, days ago," Bob says and he fists his hands into Brian's shirt. "Don't you ever fucking do that to me again. You hear me?" Releasing his hold, Bob grabs Brian in a fierce hug, holding on for a long moment before pulling back. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a fucking.... what's it called? The thing with the round things."

Bob frowns and runs his hands through his hair, says quietly. "Like a truck."

Brian nods. "Yeah, like that." He yawns then, his eyes closing. "I'm tired."

"You should sleep then." Bob reaches behind him and grabs a pillow, setting it behind Brian. "Lie down."

"You're going to stay?" Brian lies down, looking up at Bob.

"I'll stay," Bob promises, and watches as Brian sleeps.

~~~~~

A chunk of coconut prised out of the shell isn't the best meal Ray's ever eaten, but he's grateful for it as drinks a mouthful of water and says, "I'm going to get the seats." He's still not exactly sure how they'll make the shelter but they've got a long expanse of woven palm leaves that should keep out the rain; hopefully at least.

Bob's standing looking out at the ocean, and when Ray speaks turns and says, "I'm coming, too."

Teeth gritted against the pain of stiff muscles, Ray stands and follows Bob toward the seats where they found Worm. It's only a short distance but it takes them a while to get there, both of them walking slowly, their energy low. Ray keeps his eyes half closed against the glare of the setting sun, feeling dizzy and light-headed, nerves and emotions raw.

"I'm going to try fishing tomorrow," Bob says, looking out to the ocean. His feet drag through the sand, grains trickling over the toes of his shoes. "We need more food. I'm thinking some kind of spear. I'll sharpen the end of Frank's comb and attach it to a stick. If I go to the shallows I can..."

"He'll be okay," Ray cuts in, and Bob stops talking, looking away.

"I know."

"We'll get rescued and he'll get checked out." Ray rests his hand on Bob's arm, careful of his sun-burnt skin. "He'll be fine."

"And what if he's not?" Bob pulls away from Bob, taking a step back. "What if his brain's swelling or he's having a fucking aneurysm?"

It's bringing fears out into the open, nothing Ray hasn't thought of himself, but hearing the actual words are a shock. He shivers, feeling cold. "You can't give up."

"I'm not!" Bob exclaims, then quieter. "I'm not. But that doesn't mean I don't see the possibilities. Frank in a wheelchair, Brian with brain damage. I can't stop thinking about it."

"Bob." Ray steps close, but Bob shies away, schooling his expression.

"Those seats won't carry themselves."

Allowing the distraction, Ray matches his steps to Bob's, and they walk in silence to the place where Ray found Worm. The seats are still lying on their side, but there's no sign of where Bob was lying, or where Frank was dragged from the surf. There's only the seats, crumpled on one side, the metal sharp. Grabbing the back of one of the chairs, Ray tugs, and discovers they're much heavier than he expected. "We need more help. I'll go back and get Worm."

Bob plants his feet in the sand and takes hold of a seat, pulling hard. "I can manage."

Ray's not so sure, especially when Bob tries to lift the seats and goes suddenly and worryingly pale, sweat breaking out on his brow. Staggering, Bob braces himself against the seat, but then his knees buckle and he falls to the ground, hunched over and shaking.

"Bob?" Ray drops down next to Bob, and Bob looks back at him, eyes wide and obviously afraid.

"Ray." Bob reaches out, grasping for Ray's arm, then his fingers loosen as he crumples and lies still. Frantic, his heart hammering, Ray touches Bob's back, feeling how his breathing is shallow.

"Bob? Bob!" Shaking Bob hard, Ray tries to get him to wake up, patting his face, praying desperately that Bob will open his eyes. He doesn't and Ray holds onto Bob's hand, needing to touch as he yells. "Gerard! Worm! Mikey! I need help! Now!"

~~~~~

Ray keeps replaying the moment. Again and again. Bob crumpling, lying so still. Carrying him back to the camp. Brian looking confused, holding onto Bob's hand and refusing to let go.

He thinks about what he could have done to stop this happening. How Bob was obviously hiding that something was wrong, and Ray should have known, because he knows Bob, but he didn't push, too afraid, too hurting to take on more worries and that makes him feel like the worst kind of coward. He shivers, cold despite the blanket and the hoodie he's pulled on.

"We can build a boat, a raft." Gerard's pacing, firelight turning his skin red and shadowed. "We build a boat and get out of here, rescue ourselves."

Ray rests his head in his hands, too tired to even look up. "This isn't the movies. You can't make a boat and sail into the sunset."

Gerard turns abruptly, his eyes gleaming as he stares at Ray. "Why not? We've got the natural material we need. Wood and fabric. We can do it, I know we can. It's better than sitting here doing nothing."

"No, no it's not," Ray yells, frustrated that Gerard can't see that it's not that easy. That the world isn't like comic books where anything can happen. "Do you know how to make a boat? One that'll actually sail on the ocean, because I don't. And what about Bob? Or Frank? What's going to happen to them on this boat? Do they get to be hauled around and bake in the sun?"

"We could do it," Gerard insists. "We can do anything."

"We can't, not that." Ray presses his fists against his eyes and the hopelessness is choking. "What we do is stay here and wait. It's all we can do."

"I don't think we have time to wait," Gerard says quietly, and Ray knows what he's not saying. That Bob collapsing like that was terrifying, and the possibility of things going drastically wrong is huge.

"Gee, come lie down with me." Mikey holds up a corner of the blanket he's lying under. He's shivering despite the layers of clothes he's wearing, his eyes dark sockets. "Please."

"I can't sleep," Gerard says, agitatedly running his hands through his hair.

Mikey lifts the blanket a little higher. "You don't have to. Just come lie down next to me. I'm cold."

Gerard walks the short distance, sinking to his knees and then curling around Mikey, holding him close. "I'll get us out of here, I promise."

"I know," Mikey says, his faith in Gerard never wavering.

The fire hisses, sparks exploding outwards when Ray throws on another handful of bark. He wishes he had that faith, but he doesn't, no matter how hard he tries.

~~~~~

It feels even hotter the next day, the sun blazing and heat makes the sand shimmer in sickening waves. Thirsty, Ray runs his tongue around his mouth, over sharp teeth and the raw patches of skin. His lips are cracked, but that pain doesn't register against the others, his chest that's constantly tight and his leg, the skin puffy and red. He should gather energy to move, walk back to the plane and try to radio for help yet again, but he's too tired right now, so bone weary that any movement is an effort.

Nearby Brian's still clutching Bob's hand, occasionally swaying in place but he refuses to let go. He's staging a vigil; they all are.

"I should have know better," Gerard says, he's sitting at the base of one of the trees, bent forward, his head in his hands and his hair falls forward in damp clumps. "It's Bob, he never tells us this shit."

Frank's face is stripped with shadows from where he's lying under the palm leaf shelter. Listlessly he reaches out, tugging at the hem of Gerard's pants. "What were you going to do, beat the truth out of him?"

"I could have tried," Gerard says, and if he had any energy Ray would laugh at the thought of Gerard squaring up to Bob.

Mikey's lying on his back, head on a bundled up hoodie and his bare toes curled into the sand. "He wouldn't have told you."

"But he should have told us," Gerard says. "We could have done something."

Ray shakes his head. "Like what? We're not doctors, we can't fix things."

"We could have made him take painkillers." Gerard looks up, his mouth pinched as he looks at Bob. "We let him suffer."

"You didn't let me do anything," Bob unexpectedly says, his voice rough as he peers through half open eyes at Gerard. "I didn't need any painkillers so didn't take any, it's that simple."

"It's not that fucking simple." Brian leans over Bob, scowling down at him. "You fucking... collapsed, scared us all half to death. You looked dead."

"But I'm not," Bob says, and Ray wants to shake him for sounding so dismissive.

Brian pulls his hand out of Bob's and clambers to his feet. For a moment he staggers then steadies himself, fisted hands tight against his side. "I'm going for a walk."

"I'll come with you," Worm says. It takes him while to get to his feet, and Brian's obviously impatient as he looks away from the camp. As soon as Worm's upright he takes off, never looking back.

"Did you get the seats?" Bob's face is set, his mouth a thin line as he starts to sit, then gasps, falling back. "Shit."

"Lie still." Ray rests his hands on Bob's chest, trying to conceal how hard they're shaking. "You need to lie there and rest, you're not Superman. I thought you'd died."

"I'm fine...."

Ray cuts him off before he can gloss over yet more truths. "Stop with the bullshit. You're not fine."

"So what do you want me to say?" Bob demands. "That I feel like shit? That a kitten could take me down right now? That I'm scared? Because I am, I'm fucking terrified."

Hearing Bob being so honest is painful, and Ray tries to breathe through the claws that are jabbing his chest. He wants to say he's sorry for pushing but already Bob's barriers are crashing back down as he takes the water Gerard hands him.

"Thanks." Bob takes a sip and sets the bottle to one side. "You started the shelter."

It's an obvious subject change but one Ray goes along with and he doesn't comment at all when Bob gasps as he pushes himself upright. "We need to find something bigger for the walls, the bags work for now but it's not very practical."

"We need to go back to the plane, there'll be stuff there," Bob says and for a moment Ray thinks he's about to get to his feet. He doesn't, just looks over to where Brian and Worm are walking along the shoreline. "I should work on the fishing spear."

Mikey sits, wrapping his arms around his bent knees as he looks at Bob. "You know how to spear fish?"

"No," Bob says with a shrug. "But I'll learn."

"We could learn together."

"Oh god, no," Gerard says. He sounds worried and Ray doesn't blame him, they've got enough injuries without Mikey putting a spear through his foot.

Mikey gives Gerard a look. "I could be awesome at fishing."

"We'll find out tomorrow," Bob puts in, then winces, his hand against his torso.

"Bob...."

Before Gerard can finish speaking Bob's talking over him, says sharply, "Don't."

Frank sits up slightly, his head brushing against the palm leaves as he looks over at Bob. "Take some painkillers at least you stubborn bastard."

Ray crawls over to the first-aid kit and takes out the box of pain killers. "You both should take some." Pushing out four tabs he hands them out and briefly considers taking some for himself, gaining some relief from the constant throbbing in his mouth, chest and thigh. He doesn't; aware that others need them more and they're down to so few. Ray can't help but worry as he counts the remaining tabs and puts away the box.

"We should have toasted coconut tonight," Gerard says suddenly and he reaches out for the remaining coconut, rolling it between his hands. "It might help."

Face against his knees, Mikey says, "It'll still taste like chewing cardboard."

"But it'll be warm cardboard," Gerard says, and Mikey makes a dismissive noise.

Which is when they hear Worm yell from the beach.

"There's a helicopter! Here! Here! We're down here!"

Adrenalin kicking in, Ray jumps to his feet and runs onto the beach, everyone but Frank following. Stumbling on the soft sand Ray looks up, at the cloudless sky and almost overhead, a large helicopter, someone dressed in a jumpsuit looking out of the open door. Knees threatening to buckle, Ray waves his arms and yells as loud as he can. "We're here! We're here! We need help. Please!"

The helicopter banks, turns, and begins to land.

Arm held up against his face, Ray shields his eyes from the sand that stings against his skin. He can hardly believe that they're about to be rescued, that they're going to be okay. It's almost too much to take in and he's grateful for the steadying touch when Gerard steps close, standing at Ray's side as the helicopter sets down with a soft thud. Immediately someone jumps out of the open side door, a large first-aid kit over their shoulder. Crouched over, they run forward and Ray sees it's a woman, her ponytail blowing in the wind caused by the blades.

"We've been looking for you all," she says."I'm Becky and Tony will be here in a moment." She looks around, and pushes a tendril of hair out of her face. "Are you all in this area?"

"Most. Yeah." Gerard looks over his shoulder where Mikey and Bob have gone back to Frank and are kneeling at his side, undoubtedly trying to stop him from moving. "The pilot, erm, and Tina, they didn't..."

"It's okay." Becky rests her hand on Gerard's arm, stopping him from talking. "We listened to your messages. There's seven of you, correct?"

"Yeah," Ray says, sheer relief making him feel weak as he points toward the camp. "Frank, Bob and Mikey are over there. We think Frank's broken his ankles."

"Then we'll go over there." Waving, she attracts Tony's attention, pointing toward the trees before they start to walk back to camp. "Tony's contacting base, letting them know we've found you."

"We didn't know if the messages went through," Ray says, hating the way his voice wavers slightly. "We kept trying."

"It's good that you did," Becky says. "It would have taken us longer to find you, otherwise."

She sounds confident, like they would have always been rescued, but Ray still feels shaky. It's like he's floating, the world pulling away and Ray takes deliberate slow steps until they're at the camp and he can finally sink to the ground, out of the way but close enough to watch as Becky sets down her kit next to Frank.

"Hey, my name's Becky." She kneels, her touch gentle as she touches Frank's chest, urging him to lie still. "You need to settle down, let us work."

Frank takes in a deep breath and lies back, resting against the pile of clothes he's been using as a pillow. "Tell me you've got the good drugs."

Becky smiles, all efficiency as she starts to examine Frank. "I have. We'll get you patched up and to the hospital in no time."

Frank swallows, visibly tensing as she moves down his body toward his legs. "And everyone else. You need to check Bob, he collapsed earlier."

"We will," Becky says, and starts to carefully unwrap the torn shirt that holds the multiple folded palm leaves that are against Frank's legs. "Inventive."

"I don't stay still very well." Frank gasps, his hands clutching at the sand before Bob reaches out his hand. Immediately Frank takes hold and squeezes, his knuckles white. "That's all they had."

Becky sets aside the leaves, exposing how Frank's ankle is swollen and bruised. It makes Ray feel sick to see, especially in combination with the pained sounds Frank makes as Becky continues her examination. "We'll swap these for real splints once we've got some painkillers into you. You'll feel much more comfortable."

"Thank fuck," Frank says, screwing shut his eyes when she touches his ankle.

"Sorry," Becky murmurs and glances up when Tony strides into camp. "I'm going to put in a line."

Tony kneels, his first-aid kit at his side. He's blocking Frank from view and Ray tries to gather enough energy to move, but even that feels like too much. Ray rests his head in his hands and stares blankly forward, listening to Becky and Tony keep up a steady stream of reassurances as they administer painkillers via IV and efficiently swap the home made splints for ones that they strap around Frank's legs, keeping them immobile. All the time Ray's been unable to see Frank's face, but he can see Bob, how he never winces despite the fact Frank's desperately clenching at his hand.

Finally, Becky sits back on her heels and Tony stands. Ray sees that Frank's got his eyes closed and his mouth looks pinched, as if he's fighting to keep control.

"We need to get you back to the hospital," Becky says and looks over her shoulder, to where another man is hurrying across the sand. He's carrying a stretcher and when he gets close he sets it down next to Frank. Becky and Tony get to work, unfastening straps and getting ready to transfer Frank onto the stretcher. "Frank, this guy here is Mark, he maintains he's the best damn pilot in the land."

Mark grins, his eyes lighting up. "That's because it's true, baby. Best by far." His smile fades then, becoming smaller, his demeanour snapping from joking to serious. "The other 'copter is en route, ETA twenty minutes."

"Wait, you're not taking us all together?" Gerard asks, sounding dismayed.

"There's not enough room," Becky says, busy fastening the straps over Frank, making sure he's secure on the stretcher. "We'll be able to take two plus Frank." She glances up then, looking sympathetic. "The other crew is close and we need to get Frank to the ER."

"We'll be fine waiting," Bob says decisively, flexing his hand when Frank finally lets go. "Take him to get sorted out."

"And you," Ray adds, ignoring the look Bob sends his way. "Bob collapsed a few hours ago."

"Then you're riding with us." Becky holds up her hand when it looks like Bob's about to protest. "You need checking over, too."

Bob scowls and clambers to his feet. "So does everyone. I'll stay here and wait."

"You can protest all you like, you're coming," Becky says. She stands, looking closely at Bob. "Don't fight me on this. You won't win."

For a long moment Ray thinks Bob's going to keep protesting, is standing with his arms crossed as he watches Mark and Tony lift the stretcher. Frank's eyes are still closed and he looks small and defenceless as he's carried away. Bob lets his arms drop, says, "Fine, I'll go."

It doesn't take long to get back to the helicopter. No one makes an attempt to take any of the clothes that are strewn around camp, just walk as a group behind the stretcher, over jumbled footprints in the sand, already crumbling trails of the last two days.

Within minutes Frank is loaded into the helicopter, his eyes open wide as he's pushed inside. Despite knowing Frank's being taken for the medical care he needs Ray's throat is tight and he's glad when Mikey steps close, his expression blank as he leans against Ray.

"Bob, you can sit here." Tony appears in the doorway, indicating a seat inside. Bob takes a half step forward.

"I should...."

"You should go," Gerard says, and rests his hand in the small of Bob's back, pushing him gently forward. "You need to watch Frank."

With ill grace Bob steps forward and clambers inside. "Fine."

"Who's taking the last seat?" Tony asks, looking between the back of the helicopter and outside.

"I'm not leaving any of you here alone," Worm says, from where he's standing just outside of the group.

Mikey takes a step back, his hand close to his ear. "I can wait."

"If Mikey's staying so am I," Gerard says, and moves so he's next to Mikey, as if defying anyone who wants to separate them.

"Ray, you go," Brian says. He rubs at his temples, his eyes squinted and Ray can't help thinking that of them all left outside it's Brian that should be going. As if he heard Ray's thoughts, Brian straightens, looking fierce. "There's no way I'm leaving Worm to look after Gerard and Mikey alone, the guy's been through enough."

"We're just going to sit here and wait," Gerard protests, but Brian shakes his head and points his finger at Mikey then Gerard.

"No, that's what you say you'll do, but you'll end up falling out of a fucking... tree.... or drowning. Some stupid shit."

It's obvious Brian isn't about to get inside without a fight and all too aware of passing time Ray climbs into the helicopter. It's one of the hardest things he's ever done in his life, even the thought of flying is making him feel sick and his heart is pounding so fast it physically hurts. Sitting next to Bob Ray lifts his arms as Tony fastens his lapbelt and then clutches at the edge of the seat as the blades speed up and the helicopter vibrates.

Ray's mouth is dry and he's staring straight ahead, focussing on Frank's feet, anything so he doesn't have to see the ground fall away.

"We'll be fine." It's so noisy that Bob has to yell almost in Ray's ear. "It's perfectly safe."

"I know," Ray manages to say, and he does know, but the facts are everyone had said travelling by plane was safe and they'd still crashed. Ray swallows hard and tries to control his breathing, pulling in air through his nose and out of his mouth. Needing to concentrate on anything but how high they are -- they're safe, they're not going to crash again -- Ray watches Becky who's ensuring Frank is comfortable, working smoothly with Tony in the small space. Looking up she catches Ray watching and smiles. Ray tries to smile back and manages the slightest curl of his lips.

"When I get back I'm going to have coffee, coffee and a fucking big steak." Bob's still leaning in close as he shouts in Ray's ear. "And a shower before bed. I'm fucking filthy."

Ray runs his tongue over the jagged points of his teeth and knows there'll be no steak for him, not for a while. "Chicken soup for me, the kind with noodles, and painkillers, lots of them."

"I hear you," Bob says, and he presses his hand against his side as he sits back in his seat. "A fuck load of drugs and....shit."

Worried, Ray twists to the side, reaching out as Bob groans and bends forward. "Bob?" Ray pushes aside Bob's hair, trying to see his face. "Bob!"

Bob's shaking, barely audible as he gasps, "There's something wrong. You need to...."

Bob crumples, slipping heavily toward Ray. Grabbing hold Ray yells, "Help! I need help."

Within seconds Becky and Tony are there, taking Bob from Ray's arms and lowering him to the floor. Ray doesn't want to let go, clutches hold as Tony unfastens his lapbelt and grabs him under the arms and firmly pulls up and away, steering Ray toward the back of the helicopter and Frank.

"Stay here," Tony commands and goes back to Bob.

"Ray." Ray looks down and sees Frank is awake and frantic, trying to look along the length of his body to see Bob. "Ray, what's happening?"

"I don't know." Ray leans heavily against the stretcher and he knows if he didn't have that support he'd collapse to the floor. He wants to tell Frank that Bob's okay, but he doesn't know if that's true. All he can see of Bob is his lax face, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open as Becky and Tony work around him.

Ray wants to know what they're saying, but it's too loud. All he can hear are snippets of sentences and each one makes him feel worse. He's shocky. Get a line in. Bleeding into the abdomen. Liver lac. Get ready to bag him. Need to be in OR. Stat. It all jumbles inside Ray's head and he watches as Tony connects Bob to monitors and starts IVs as Becky takes over Bob's breathing.

Ray clutches Frank's hand and knows he's watching Bob die.

~*~*~*~

Part 3