The Hunter

Toby paced back and forth along the two hundred or so feet of sandy beach the high tide had left them, staring down at his feet, seeing nothing. He could have been a very good looking young man, if he was not suffering from starvation and sunburn. Once platinum blonde hair had turned brown with mud and grease, decorated accidentally with burrs, twigs and leaves. It sat as a giant knot on the back of his head. His pale blue eyes were glazed over as he retreated to his mind and his skin was red and peeling where it was not covered in mud. He wore a torn gray t-shirt, ragged green cargo shorts, and a single, filthy sock.

Behind him, watching the movement of the ocean waves with dark, sapphire colored eyes, was Ben. He seemed to be doing better than Toby both mentally and physically, as his darker skin was handling the sun much better and his eyes were bright and clear. He had dark hair cut fairly short, but it had been left to grow on it's own for a time. His hair was mostly free of plant matter, thanks to the help of a bright yellow bandanna that was currently tied around Ben's neck. He wore nothing else aside from a pair of worn jeans that matched the color of the ocean. Ben fiddled with the bandanna for a moment before he stood.

The boy was a good deal taller than Toby; four inches taller than Toby's five feet and nine inches. He was bigger too, but only because Ben had more muscle than Toby. Neither of them had had anything to eat since they woke up, stranded on the island together.

“I'm going to try fishing again,” Ben called to Toby.

He did not expect a response and Toby did not offer one. The other boy did not show any sign of having heard Ben at all. At this point in time Ben was used to this. Sighing, Ben turned away to the shade of the nearby trees. Leaning against a tree was a crude fishing pole they had made on their second day on the island. It was made from a stiff, curved branch Toby had yanked from a tree. They used threads torn from their clothes and braided together as line, three pebbles as weights, a paper clip as a hook, and a bright pink eraser Toby had found in his pocket as a lure.

In the seven days they had been stranded, Ben had managed to catch a single fish. It had been too small for them to even eat. Ben picked up the pole and took a moment to adjust the paperclip to the shape he wanted. Toby had sharpened it with a rock the night before, so Ben hoped he would have more luck. He glanced back at the pacing boy behind him, but Toby still did not look up or say anything. With a sigh, Ben set out for the fresh water stream where he often fished.

It took him about ten minutes to reach the stream from the ocean shore. He was not sure how far in distance that was, but he knew the time. He had counted the time it took many times, as he had nothing better to do while he walked. The area had become familiar to him since he had walked it so often in the past week. This time, however, instead of counting, he thought about the past week with Toby.

Ben and Toby had woken up with waves licking at their feet and an over turned, deflated life boat covering them from the sun. Toby had woken up first and managed to drag himself and Ben into the shade of the trees before Ben came too. At first they had simply sat in a confused silence, each boy trying to figure out how they had gotten there and who they were. Eventually Ben spoke up.

“I'm Ben,” he had said simply, almost automatically, and held his hand out to Toby.

“Toby, I think,” the other boy replied, smacking Ben's hand.

They grinned at each other and sat there for awhile longer until Toby realized he was rather hungry and neither of them had any sort of food. They briefly discussed the oddness of their situation before trying to hunt down something to eat. They had no luck.

By sunset, the two had decided to stick together without needing to say a word about it. Toby and Ben dragged the life raft farther into the forest and they slept in it together. Despite the heat of the day, they quickly discovered that night came with a chill that left both of them sleepless. The next day they decided to find a proper place on higher ground to camp and explore. Ben had found the river and the two of them experimented with making a fishing pole. As they did, they talked about who they might have been before they woke up. Neither of them had any clear memories and the memories they did have neither were certain if they were real or dreams.

Ben reached his usual fishing spot-a flat rock that hung out over the water-but decided to go farther upstream to see where that would lead.

The two of them quickly became familiar with the area immediately surrounding their camp. Ben made a point to make sure he would always be able to find the fresh water river and Toby had made his way back to the beach, hoping to find supplies. It was on the third day that Toby began to pace. Ben worried and fussed over him a bit, but Toby told him not to worry. From that point on it was about the only thing Toby would say to Ben. Don't worry, Ben. I'm fine, Ben. We'll find food, don't worry. They never did find food and Ben was very, very worried.