Atlantic Ocean
8:30 P.M
The yacht is gone, and so is all but one man; Joseph. Miraculously, might you consider it a miracle, he'd survived the explosion. The same couldn't be said for everyone else, including Talen. He, along with many others, were gone. Murdered. Shredded. Ripped apart. Every worst nightmare came true.
Clinging onto a floating wood plank, he kicked his feet underwater. Surrounding him was a field of blackened water; from the oil that had been on the yacht. Debris, in many different sizes, littered the area.
With no land, no lights, or anything for that matter within sight, he was lost. Stranded in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean; alone. Would rescue ever come? Or would he die a slow, painful death?
As he bobbed on the surface like a buoy, something caught Joseph's eye. Upon the dead calm ocean, a blurry figure can be seen. It was moving closer to where he was.
"Shit," a man shouted as his blurry physique came into focus. "This man is still alive!"
As Joseph came more to his senses, he started understanding what was going on. Feeling weak and on the brink of death from starvation and thirst, there was still reason for him to doubt what he was seeing, thinking, and hearing. This could be a trick his mind is playing on him; exhaustion.
There was a patch of light fog brewing around him. At the pace it was building up and forming, it'd be awhile before visibility would be lost.
"Someone help me help lift him up," the woman said as she turned to look back over her shoulder. "Don't worry Joseph, you're going to be okay; I promise."
Fred, a plane crash survivor from years ago, was guiding the small wooden boat towards Joseph; slowly and cautiously.
Not far from the site where the yacht was last located, Detective West and his new partner Rane Hopkins, have just arrived by charter boat to the island.
Shutting off its engine in the same lagoon where Matthew's yacht once sat dormant, the detectives disembarked and rowed a boat the rest of the way to shore. Upon beaching the boat, they got off. Putting the oars into the boat, they'd finally made landfall on the island.
Quiet. Eerie. The island was still reeling from the bombardic attack by the US Navy from weeks earlier. Smoke was still rising into the air; although less dense than it was when the attack occurred.
What could be called a forested island, is now charred and cleaned bare. Ashes from the wildfires littered the ground in a thick blanket. Whatever natural life there was here, is no more. But as most would say, the island will recover in time.
Not far from the shoreline, a semi-setup campsite was discovered. Three tents in total, but only partially set up. A circle of small rocks made up what would've been used as a fire pit.
"I can feel the evil that once took place here," Rane told her partner West as she looked over at him. He glanced back at her. "I just have this unsettling feeling in my stomach."
"Remember what we came here for," Detective West reminded her, "to better understand where our investigation will progress."
They had both come prepared; more prepared than those before them. With their pistols in their holsters, they could shoot down anything considered a threat to them.
Camping gear was scattered about like looters had scoured through victims' belongings. But that was due in part to the curious cannibals and destructive mutants that once roamed freely.
SNAP!
"The fuck was that?" Rane jumped as she yanked her pistol out of the holster. Pulling back the safety trigger, she rested her finger on the firing trigger aiming it in front of herself. Detective West didn't immediately withdraw his gun, but he prepared himself for that by grabbing his gun.
CAW!
The snapping sound they'd heard was a burnt twig snapping under the weight of the heavy crow. It flew away as they approached the forest treeline.
To their surprise, some natural plants have already started growing back.
"Put your gun away," West said.
Rane, spooked by the random crow, slowly put her gun back in the holster on her belt line. The two detectives stood on the edge of the remnants of the forest. As Detective West took his first step into the forest, a loud crunching sound was heard under his foot; where he'd stepped.
Looking down and lifting his foot up, he saw what he'd stepped on. A skull, either from one of the many victims who died here or a dead cannibal, he wasn't as shooken up about it as his partner was.
"I'm gonna be sick," Rane said as she covered her mouth. She turned around to look away.
Alexander took a step back and kneeled down. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a latex blue elastic glove. Flopping it and airing it out, he then slid it onto his hand.
The fragmented skull remains were closely examined; going as far as picking pieces of the jawbone and skull pieces. Reaching into his other coat pocket, he pulled out a small plastic evidence bag. Grabbing a small handful of pieces, he puts them into the bag; then sealing it up and putting it back into his pocket. He doesn't take the glove off quite yet.
Getting back up, he tilted his head as he saw another skull and severed, bloody and dirty hand on the ground. Smaller than the other skull was, he suspected that this victim was much, much younger. Perhaps a baby, or a toddler. Seeing how the landscape was scorched beyond recognition, it was tough to make out the sex or even the age of the victims.
"Effigy's," Alexander told Rane, "constructed with arms and legs and skulls, it was made by the cannibals."
"And we know this much, how?" Rane asked him, still leant over reeling from vomiting.
Alexander shook his head slightly as he turned around to face her. Leaning up, she'd recovered okay from nausea.
"I've been investigating Matthew Cross and Sahara Therapeutics for eight years now," he answered, "Natasha, my old partner came here weeks ago…without my knowledge…,"
"And never came back?" Rane questioned.
"As much as it angers me, I want to find out what really happened here," Alexander explained as he turned around to view the other body parts scattered on the way ground.
With his foot, he kicked ash around to get a better idea of the supposed age of these victims that made up the effigy.
"A child," he said, "a disembodied child."
Alexander took a moment as he thought about the monstrous things that went on here; more specifically the cannibalism and cannibals.
Rane was looking around at their surroundings. Not too far from them, she'd spotted the wreckage of a small A-320 aircraft. Painted white, with red and blue distinctly painted on the rudder and elevators, she concluded that the aircraft was once owned by either Delta or American Airlines. The fuselage was so badly burnt, that it was surprising that she could make out that much from what she could see.
"There's a wrecked plane over there," Rane brought up as Alexander turned to look at where she was pointing.
"A-320," Alexander said as he gazed upon it, "come with me."
As they began walking towards the wreckage to examine it more thoroughly, a faint clunking sound was heard from behind.
"What the fuck?" Rane questioned as she looked down at the ground. She saw what had been thrown at her, hitting her on the side of her head.
Kneeling down to pick it up, she got back up and looked around.
"Don't move," she warned Alexander.
PST!
"Hey!" A quiet voice said from nearby, "hey! Over here!"
This time, Alex did hear the voice. He withdraws his pistol, pulling back the safety as he held it in his hand at his side; Rane does the same. Because it was quiet, it was hard to make out if it was a man or woman's voice.
Closer to them than they thought, a man had walked out from behind the remains of a burnt, dead spruce tree. He put his bow over his shoulder, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Strange to think about when the island is known for being dangerous, hostile and unforgiving.
Wearing a brown hoodie, but no pants or shorts of any kind. Not even shoes or boots. The hoodie was not of a typical hoodie you'd find in stores. This one must've been made from leaves from massive ferns or other plants. He was clean for the most part; his entire bottom half completely exposed. In other words: half-naked.
His bodily physique matches that of an athlete. Abs, cleanly shaven from head to toe, and kind of cute from Rane's perspective.
"Oh fuck," Alexander said as he closed his eyes and looked away, holding his hand out and open in front of him. "That's a penis."
"Now that's what we women like to see," Rane muttered with a smile, unable to take her eyes off of this mysterious, curious man.
"Grapes hanging from the vine," Rane continued saying, "That's what I refer to 'em as."
"I mean no harm," the man said as he cautiously approached them. "I'm not one of them."
"One of whom?" Alexander asked with his back still turned. "Cannibals?"
"Nor mutants," the man added. "Just a normal human being trying to survive on the island."
"How'd you end up here?" Rane asked as she tilted her head, "and where's your pants?"
"My plane crashed," he told them, "clothes were lost when my plane caught fire. You're among the people I've met since I've crashed here."
"And how long ago was that?" Alexander asked; sighing heavily as he turned around to face the man. He paid no attention to "down below" like Rane was. He crossed his arms and waited for an answer.
"Jackson," he replied, "is my name. Call me Jack."
"Ahh, Jack," Rane said, "let me be your Rose."
"I see from your outfits and badges, you're detectives?"
Rane smiled and nodded her head.
"We are," she replied. "We're here to try and understand who Matthew Cross was and is, and what he and Sahara Therapeutics did here."
"You don't say?" Jackson questioned, "allow me to be your guide. I can answer any questions you two may have, and enlighten you on the workings of what happened in that mountain."
"First question," Alexander said, "how long have you been trapped here? What do you know that we don't already know?"
Jackson lifted his hood up, tossing it back behind his back.
"That's two questions," he told Alexander. "But first, answer mine: what do you know that I don't?"
"Multiple planes have gone missing over this island, Sahara Therapeutics operated a facility here in '02 and that their compound was abandoned after a certain Dr. Matthew Cross's work was exposed and revealed, and lastly, he was terminated for performing cruel and inhumane experiments on children and island natives, and finally that the US Navy decimated the island with a recon turned attack operation."
"Aha!" Jackson said, shaking his head, "you people know so little."
Closing in on the island, on the back of his most-prized creation the Bird, we're Matthew, Meghan, and Addison. Accompanying them, tied up and blindfolded of course, were: Eric and Timmy LeBlanc, and Ariel [a.k.a the girl].
They were closing in on the landing site where the Bird would land. As they flew over the island, the Bird's shadow was cast; zipping across the ground at a high speed.
"Looks like we have some visitors," Addison pointed out as she looked down and pointed out the yellow boat sitting stationary in the lagoon. What she didn't see was Alexander, Rane, or Jackson.
"Let's greet our guests," Matthew replied to Addison, "Stitches, Cowman. Time for a meet and greet."
Back down on the ground, everyone stopped and froze as the shadow moved swiftly by. They all happened to look up just in time to see the monstrous bird flying right over them.
"I've been trapped here for months, and even bore witness to the Navy's attack–," Jack was saying but stopped.
"Holy shit!" Rane shouted, "what the fuck is that?" She asked in horror and disbelief.
"He's back," Jackson said as he looked down and over at them. His mood suddenly shifted. Going from a calm, high-alert state of mood to a panicked and frightened mood.
"We need to hide before they see us," Jack warned.
As Rane and Alexander looked back up at the passing beast of a bird, Alex said:
"It's too late," he told them, "we've been spotted. Look."
He made them look up just in time to see Stitches and the huge, resembling a baby beast jump down.
"Run!" Jack whispered loudly, "come with me. I know where to hide."
ROAR!
The Cowman roared just as it slammed into the ground on his feet, creating a huge, thunderous rumble. The area around it shook like an earthquake; that's how heavy it is.
"Follow me!" Jackson told them as he turned around. As he did, Stitches also landed on the ground after swinging down from a tall, half-dead tree.
"Is it too late to say fuck it?" Rane asked.
"Very late," Alexander mentioned as they followed behind Jackson, running down a steep hill in a rushed panic.
"Could've just shot them, you know," Alex said, "that is what guns are used for. Correct me if I'm wrong."
"You'd be dead before a shot could be fired," Jackson shouted from a short distance ahead of them, "Stitches and Cowman are no joke. They'll rip you apart. Trust me when I say that. I've seen it first-hand from a few weeks back. Group of guys arrived, four of 'em. Not even 10 minutes later, and two of 'em would be dead. One was dismembered, and the other had his head blown off. Stitches is the proof you need to believe me. He's made up of one of those guys' body."
"Well," Rane concluded, "we're fucked."
"Ya think?" Alexander said to her.