To The Death

When Zacky wakes up, there’s a horrible pain radiating throughout his skull. The rest of him, however, is nice and comfy. He opens one eye. Everything around him is peachy beige, and slightly blurry. He blinks a few times, opens his other eye, and realizes within seconds that he’s staring up at the inside of a plane. He jumps to his feet, but the world spins around him, and he does a faceplant into the aisle.

“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Johnny says from somewhere nearby.

Zacky groans and slowly pushes himself into a sitting position. His head is still throbbing.

“Where the hell are we?”

“About an hour away from landing in Barcelona.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” With his vision now mostly clear, he looks for evidence that this is a joke. Instead, he sees several rows of plush blue seats upon which Matt, Val, Brian, and Jimmy are sleeping, small windows offering a glimpse of the clear blue sky and wispy clouds outside, and Johnny looking down at him apologetically, a SkyMall magazine in his hands.

“The retreat’s in the Canary Islands,” Johnny explains. “Once we land, we’ve got a three hour flight to the island where we’ll actually be staying.”

Anger boils beneath Zacky’s skin. He feels like his blood is on fire. He gets to his feet, the room spins again, and he sinks into a nearby chair for support.

“As soon as I can walk again, I am going to fucking kill you,” he assures Johnny. “Just so you know.”

Johnny’s face pales. “I’m not the one who knocked you out!”

“Who was it, then?”

“Brian!”

“That fucker!”

“Sorry, man. It was either we knock you out, or we give you NyQuil or something, and we figured if we went with the second option some psycho stalker girl would steal you from the airport before we could get you onto the plane. So you should probably be thanking us.”

Instead of thanks, Johnny receives an obscene hand gesture.

“I’m not talking to any of you ever again,” Zacky announces.

“Didn’t you just talk to me, though?”

“Yeah, but that was to tell you that I’m not talking to you.”

“…That still counts.”

“Fuck you.”

Zacky takes some Advil, stretches across three empty seats, and spends the remainder of the flight staring at blue fabric and sulking like a spoiled little girl who dropped her ice cream.

When they land in Barcelona, the others converge on him in an assault of apology. He ignores them and makes a beeline for the nearest airport restaurant, where he drinks away the discomfort of having been on a plane for approximately fourteen hours. Matt and Brian, after finishing their own meals, have to literally drag him from the premises.

The three-hour flight to the island is even worse than the flight from the U.S., mostly because he starts throwing up the second he steps foot on the plane. He spends the majority of the flight hunched over the toilet in the tiny bathroom, puking his guts out as cheerful Mediterranean music streams from the speakers.

At last, the pilot announces their successful descent into Fuerteventura. Zacky wants to jump with joy at the prospect of leaving the plane, but instead he clutches at his head and tries to look extra unhealthy so the others will feel guilty. It works.

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Brian says as they walk through the detachable hallway from the plane to the airport. “You don’t think you have a concussion, do you?”

“I’m not talking to you.”

“…You just did.”

Zacky curses and separates himself from the group. Only when he’s purchased some potato chips from a nearby vending machine and collected his luggage from baggage claim does he rejoin them. Jimmy’s being a diva and complaining about how hot it is and how he wants a beer, while Matt tries to explain that their transportation should arrive soon and that they’ll hopefully be drowning in nature-related comfort within an hour or two.

“Ooh! Chips! Where’d you get those?” Johnny asks as Zacky approaches.

“Hell.”

Jimmy helps himself to a chip before Zacky can stop him. “I thought you weren’t talking to us.”

Zacky growls, crushes his bag of chips in his hand, and throws himself into a nearby chair. From his new location he has a perfect view of the world outside—endless blue sky, tropical foliage, tan girls wandering around in skimpy bikinis…

Intrigued, he stands and moves closer to the window. One particularly attractive girl in a bikini that barely covers what it should cover smiles and waves at him before disappearing down a footpath. He feels his inner whore rearing its scantily-dressed head.

He likes sex. Scratch that, he loves it—and he’s developed a bit of a virgin fetish, so he spends his nights ripping through the innocence of any virgin who’ll have him, leaving them in broken and sometimes bleeding heaps and delighting, for reasons he can’t even begin to explain, in their tears. He knows it’s not healthy, but he doesn’t know what to do about it besides send the girls flowers and wish them the best in life, so he just kind of pretends like it doesn’t happen. So, okay, he has some issues, but certainly nothing that anyone else needs to concern themselves with. Besides, it’s not like the fetish is taking over his life. It’s just when he sees a relatively appealing female.

While he chews his crushed chips, and thinks about the girl, his mind begins its usual assessment: is she or isn’t she? Most virgins don’t wear bikinis that slutty. And the wave had been kind of a whore-y, fuck-me, wave. But some of the virgins he’d met were just plain nasty, so you could never really tell at first. He’d have to get to know her.

He grins and feels like maybe this retreat thing won’t be so bad after all.

+++

Miserably, Lennox fans herself with a newspaper and contemplates, for the fifth time that day, killing her sister. Kingsley is sitting next to her, holding a magazine mere inches from his face and making interesting expressions as he attempts to decipher an article. Their plane landed two hours ago, and while Robyn promised that the resort was sending someone to come and get them, their ride has yet to arrive. Several planes have just landed, so the airport’s pick-up area is beyond crowded, and to make matters worse, the air conditioning’s broken and it feels like Hell is slowly seeping in through the windows. Lennox is sweating through her tank top and practically starving to death, but she doesn’t have any money since her parents canceled all her credit cards and she’s sure as hell not going to look any more pathetic by asking one of her siblings. So she sits, letting various expletives run through her mind.

She hates herself for even agreeing to be here in the first place. She has no idea what she was thinking—forced interaction with a bunch of strangers is the last thing she needs right now. She’s terrible with people, and she knows that with her siblings around, it’s just going to be worse. They’re the charismatic ones, the ones who walk into a room and walk out ten minutes later with a new entourage. She’s the one who can barely make contact with people online, let alone make connections with people she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why, but somewhere along the line she stopped caring and started hating everything, and now she’s clueless as to how to fix it.

She pushes away thoughts that she knows won’t help and starts distracting herself by mentally running through the periodic table of elements.

Kingsley nudges her as she reaches selenium.

“What does ‘manejar’ mean, again?”

“Don’t ask me. I don’t remember a word of Spanish except for ‘Me llamo Lennox’ and ‘¿Dónde está el baño?’”

He sighs. “I don’t remember anything, either. Four years of Spanish in high school and I can’t even read a goddamned magazine.”

“That’s because you plugged all your assignments into a translator and cheated off of the girl in front of you. I just didn’t practice after graduation.”

“Oh.” He chuckled. “Right.”

The seat next to Lennox is suddenly occupied by Robyn, returning from the bathroom. She’s holding several chocolate bars, a few bottles of water, and some crackers.

“I figured this would hold us over until we got to the hotel,” she explains.

Lennox’s stomach jumps for joy. She abandons the newspaper, grabs a chocolate bar, wolfs it down, and starts on her package of crackers. Robyn grabs her hand, and her red hair—the only distinguishing trait between them—hangs in front of her eyes as she inspects her sister’s nails.

“Christ, Lenny,” Robyn says, displeased. “You need a mani/pedi.”

“Do not ever use that expression again. And no, I do not. They’d just get in the way when I’m playing a game.”

As Robyn continues to berate her nails, Lennox goes back to her crackers with her free hand. She tunes out her sister’s beauty advice and focuses instead on the sweet joy of cheese crackers in her mouth.

Suddenly, sharp nails dig into her arm.

“Ouch! What the hell, Robyn! You broke the skin!”

Robyn isn’t paying attention. She’s staring across the room, eyes wide, nails steadily cutting through her sister’s flesh. Lennox yanks her arm away.

“Fucking lunatic,” she mutters. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Omigod,” Robyn says, awestruck.

“What?”

“Holy shit!”

Lennox turns to Kingsley. He looks just as confused as she feels. They watch with concern as Robyn jumps to her feet and practically vaults across the room. For several seconds, they’re completely clueless as to why their sister has suddenly decided to ditch them, but then Kingsley informs Lennox that he’s spotted a few people that look alarmingly familiar.

“Fuck,” he says.

“What?”

“You don’t recognize them?”

Lennox squints in her sister’s direction and is just able to make out the sight of Robyn talking with a pair of heavily tattooed, muscular men. A few other similar-looking guys are nearby, one chatting with a blonde girl that looks out of place but seems completely at ease. They appear mildly threatening but are in no way familiar to her.

“No, I don’t. Should I?”

Kingsley sighs anxiously. “Shit.”

“Would you just tell me who they are?” Lennox demands, glancing at the strange sight once more. “And why Robyn’s working her stripper charm on them?”

“Those men,” Kingsley says, pausing like he’s doing a voice over for a movie trailer, “are Avenged Sevenfold.”

The name clicks in her head as the name of her sister’s favorite band, better known as an obsession. Lennox frowns and inspects the men again.

“Really? She forced me to listen to them once, and…I don’t know, I always pictured them looking a bit less…douche-y.”

Kingsley’s mouth twitches, but then he’s all seriousness as he spots Robyn walking back toward them.

“Don’t let Robyn hear you say that,” he warns.

Lennox rolls her eyes.

Robyn looks like a little kid for whom Christmas has arrived early. She’s grinning from ear to ear and walking so enthusiastically that it almost looks like she’s playing hopscotch on the airport tile. When she gets closer to them, she releases a small squeal, and her eyes adopt a pleading look.

“No,” Kingsley says quickly.

“But I haven’t even asked yet!”

“No.”

“But—” Robyn makes an annoyed noise and turns to her sister. “Lenny—”

“Oh, sure, ‘cause she’s definitely going to say yes.”

Lennox looks from her brother to her sister, sighs, and decides to at least try to be nice.

“What is it, Robyn?”

“Okay, you know who those guys are right?”

“Yeah. Kingsley told me.”

“Well…in case he didn’t mention it, they’re my absolute favorite band on the planet, and they’re here on vacation too, only they’re going on this wilderness retreat a little ways up in the mountains—”

“No.”

Kingsley bursts into laughter. Robyn is not pleased.

“But, Lenny!”

“No! I hate nature! And seriously, Robyn? Are you really going to follow a bunch of complete strangers into the middle of a random jungle just because they’re your favorite band?”

“Yes! Yes, I am! They invited us!”

It’s times like these in which Lennox becomes more aware of the drastic differences between her and her sister.

“There is no way in hell,” Lennox says.

Robyn crosses her arms over her chest and glares at her siblings. The Park Family Stubbornness activates.

“I didn’t say you had to go with me. I’m perfectly capable of handling this by myself.”

“You live with me,” Kingsley points out.

“I’m afraid of living alone!”

“And you still sleep with a stuffed animal.”

“They’re comforting!”

“You can’t even make toast by yourself!”

“Shut up, Kingsley! I’ll be fine!”

Lennox lets her forehead hit her palms, takes a deep breath, and straightens up. Not only is the volume of their argument starting to attract attention from some airport security guards, who are nudging each other and looking worriedly in their direction, she can see by the look on Robyn’s face that her mind is made, and that she and Kingsley have no choice but to adjust.

“How about a compromise?” she proposes. “We’ll go with you—for a few days. But then we’re leaving and going to the hotel.”

Robyn shrieks and traps her sister in a hug. “You’re the best, Lenny! I promise, it’ll be worth it. It’ll be so much fun.”

“Right, sure.”

Kingsley starts shaking his head but moves to gather their bags. Lennox shares his skepticism. She’s not quite sure what she’s just gotten herself into, but she hopes it’s a pleasant alternative to worrying endlessly about her sometimes dangerously-aloof sister.

The three of them haul their belongings to the other side of the room. From this distance, the band looks more cute and less threatening. A super-tall, string-bean type guy with dark hair is messing with the buttons on the Nintendo DS of the small dude next to him. Next to them, an extremely attractive, spiky-haired guy is unearthing a package of gum from one of his pockets. Another tall guy steps forward and extends a colorfully-tattooed arm.

“Hey, I’m Matt,” he says.

Lennox finds herself momentarily distracted by the ridiculous cuteness of his dimples. Then she recovers, and, along with Kingsley, introduces herself. The blonde steps forward to join Matt and gives them a friendly smile.

“I’m Val, Matt’s wife.”

Matt snakes an arm around her waist and turns to introduce the others. “The tall one’s Jimmy, Mr. Pretty Boy Spiky Hair is Brian, and short shit playing with the DS is Johnny.”

They all wave, although Brian doesn’t look too thrilled about his nickname.

Matt inclines his head toward the nearby row of chairs. “…And the grumpy two-year-old girl in the corner is Zacky. He doesn’t want to be here, so don’t take it personally if he’s being a jackass to you.”

Zacky turns out to be a pouting guy that’s barely visible beneath jeans, a hoodie with the words ‘Vengeance University’ emblazoned on the front, and large sunglasses. He grunts as Matt mentions his name.

Lennox lets her eyes travel over each of them, memorizing names and faces so she’ll know how to describe them to the police if they turn out to be serial killers. She can feel Robyn’s eyes boring excitedly into the side of her face, and forces herself to look like she’s not imaging all the horrible ways you can die in the middle of a jungle.

“So, uh, are you guys ready to go?” Matt asks. “I think our ride’s right outside.”

Three white pick-up trucks with chipped paint and a huge beds are idling by the curb. Several other people are already gravitating toward the vehicles and allowing their bags to be carried by various helpers wearing brightly colored t-shirts bearing the letters ‘NRF’.

“Oh, that looks promising,” Kingsley says.

Lennox grins. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

While walking outside, she ends up next to Val, an event she’s grateful for. She hasn’t even spoken to the girl, but she looks the least terrifying, and Lennox feels like she’s the one person that it won’t be difficult to talk to. She tries to give the girl a friendly smile while dragging her bags through the revolving doors.

“You look kinda freaked out,” Val observes.

“I wasn’t planning on running off into the jungle with complete strangers, but hey, what my sister wants, my sister gets.”

“I’m sensing some animosity here.”

“Just a little.”

“Weird. You guys are triplets, right?”

Lennox nods. It’s a wonder that anyone can even tell, what with the way Robyn and Kingsley have so frequently altered their hair.

“We’re not close, though. And I didn’t really have any other options but to be here. So forgive me if I’m not exactly the most fun to be around right now.”

“Oh, well, you and Zacky should get together, then.”

Zacky shoves past them. “I heard that and I fucking hate you,” he grumbles.

Val laughs and gives Lennox a reassuring look. “You’ll be fine.”

She leaves Lennox to go help the others with their bags. Within a few minutes, everyone’s packed into the bed of a truck, trundling along a bumpy path away from the airport. Lennox soon spots what she’s pretty sure would have been their hotel—a beautiful, peach-colored structure sprawled over several miles of beach on the other side of the road. Then she glances in the direction they’re headed, sees nothing but trees and the tip of a foggy mountain—or is it a volcano?—and feels her stomach clench. Why am I doing this, again?

“Look alive, Lenny.” Robyn nudges her, only it’s more like a sharp jab due to the swaying of the truck. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

“Yeah. Fun,” Lennox says tonelessly.

She shakes off the strange bout of nerves and tries to focus the gorgeous lush greenery racing past them. It’s just a wilderness retreat, she reminds herself. It’s not like we’ll be in danger or anything.