Lord of the flies time now.

[thrif]

Marshall grunted as his mind drifted back into consciousness once again. He was sitting upright, his feet flat on the floor and his hands pulled behind his back. There was a plastic zip-tie tight around his wrists. His arm was throbbing, causing a nauseating ache. From what he could tell, it was now only bleeding sluggishly.

The dream he had just had wasn’t pretty. But it was an improvement to what he was experiencing now. He dreamt he had been on the other side of the Island, and for some reason Clementine was there, talking about Andras. He had yelled at her to keep Ellen away from him. He knew that that asshole wasn’t any good, after all look what he’d done to him! Imagine what the prick would do to Ellen! He didn’t want to think about it...

Where was he and how long had he been sitting there? It felt like days, and for all he knew it might have been. Last thing he knew was he and Davin had been in the forests trailing this skinny goth brat who they soon found out went by the name of Andras. He had tried ot get into his head, and read his thoughts. He knew about everything. He knew about his mother, and father... Then there was a 'pop' and everything went blank. He didn't know what happened to Davin, neither did he care anyway. That treacherous jerk could rott in hell for all he cared. He hoped that whatever torture that Andras had in mind for him was even more inventive than what he'd just endured. Then he woke up here.

He had been slipping in and out of consciousness for ages. When he woke up the first time, he realized that some sort of gag had been shoved in his mouth, and a rag covered half his face to ensure he couldn’t talk.

The rag tasted foul and bitter, and Marshall had to suppress the urge to throw up. With a gag firmly in place, that could only end badly. Sneezing, on the other hand, was out of his control. The rag tickled his nose, and before he could stop it, he sneezed, his whole body jerking forward. Ew… now that was disgusting. He could only imagine what the others would’ve thought.

He didn’t like the fact that he had just sneezed all over his face but at least it was better than trying to keep it in. He remembered learning in Human Biology at High School that a sneeze could travel at 100 miles per hour. There was one guy who tried to hold a sneeze in during the middle of one of the classes because he didn’t want to disturb his classmates. Should’ve known better, poor bugger. Because he ruptured a blood vessel in his head. Then he disturbed the class!

Marshall couldn’t help a small chuckle at what was not exactly a pleasant memory.

Wrinkling his nose at the wetness now pressing down on his face, Marshall opened his eyes again, looking around the room. It was pointless to pretend he was still asleep now.

He was in a strange room. There was no furniture apart from the chair he was sitting on, a broken mirror laying in shards on the floor and a flickering light bulb above him. It was a pretty ordinary typical ‘shoe box’, drywall room, patches of dirt, and grime stuck to the walls and the timber floorboards where scuffed. There was only one window to the right, but the glass was broken in shards and it was bolted shut, thick black curtains hanging half-drawn, the door ahead of him was closed. He wasn’t sure if it was locked or not, nor could he find out.

His shoulder hurt him terribly. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through his side. He glanced down at it. It certainly looked a few days old. There was purpleish discoloring around it and it was inflamed. Puss had started to appear here and there and he the bullet was still visible. His whole shoulder was tingling, and just starting to turn numb. He knew that wasn’t good, but he would rather face Andras again than admit that.

Give me a bandage and some antibiotics and I’ll be right as rain, he thought hopelessly to himself.

Right as rain.

A dumb saying, he thought. What was so right about the rain? Could you be wrong as rain? He shook his head softly, quickly making a mental note to avoid doing that again. His head was pulsing, but that wasn’t anything new. He’d had a headache before, this one was just a little more intense. Marshall forced his eyes open a crack, relieved that his vision wasn’t blurred. He could rule out a concussion, for the moment at least.

He was completely exhausted, but despite his weariness, even with the added strain of his injury and the cold, sleep wasn’t going to come easily. It never did.

His position probably didn’t help, Marshall thought, tapping his feet on the floorboards. Strapped down to the chair, arms pulled awkwardly behind him, it was impossible to get comfortable on the hard wooden chair. His arm still throbbed annoyingly and his head ached with every movement.

It wasn’t until much, much later that Marshall, still awake, looked down and realized his feet were still tapping on the ground. He tried to make them stop, but he couldn’t. His legs were trembling uncontrollably.

Marshall frowned. That wasn’t good. It meant one of two things. It could be because he was cold; his clothes were damp. But he didn’t feel cold - if anything he felt hot, like he needed to rip all of his clothes off and immerse himself in cool water. Which indicated that it was the second thing - he had a fever.

The fever could be explained in two ways: His GS wound was infected after not being treated for so long. Or he had the flu. Just to add to the growing list of problems, Marshall wondered what would happen if he threw up on Andras.

[::Piffle::]

Helga couldn’t stop thinking about the day that had just passed in all her years working as the senior attending physician/residency director at the Seraph Island Hospital, there were very few times she had lost a patient. Let alone one like Jimmy, he was a character and a half and had reminded her so much of her husband from way back when she led a normal life back in the outside world. Gosh that seemed like a eternity ago now, was it really only 5 years ago that she had wound up on this strange island?

As she walked along through the bush on the quiet side of the island she couldn’t help it as her mind wandered to earlier that day. Jimmy was only 30, he should have had his whole life ahead of him but due to cancer him life was hanging in the balance. Despite his ailment and being stuck in hospital he had been a real trouper always cracking jokes and flirting with the young nurses. She however had pulled him into line on her shifts and for that they had developed a mutual feeling of respect for each other.

Today she had been checking on him when he took a turn for the worse and although she had tried he had died as she worked on him. It hit her hard and she had been dragged away from his body, shock ran through her and for a moment she saw her husband laying there lifeless and she couldn’t help but believe that was his fate in the real world.

Charlotte had made her cup of tea after cup of tea until she finally couldn’t take it any more and decided to go for a walk. That was how she ended up here, still mulling over her helplessness in the situation and running it over in her head. Trying with all her might to think of what she had done wrong she knew she had done something wrong, why would she be blaming herself for his death if she had done everything in her power?

She spun around snapped out of her sorrow and self-doubt when she heard a constant tapping, looking around she tried desperately to find the source of the noise. There were no houses on this side of the island she had walked here many times since she came her 5 years ago, she knew every part of this area.

Turning around in a circle she caught sight of a ramshackle house, it looked like it had been there for years and years but she knew it hadn’t been there last week. She had walked right over that spot she was positive of that. Creeping up to the window she peered in cautiously inside there was magic behind this hut thing and she knew it. Her eyes opened wide and all paranoia fled with the sight she saw there was someone in there. They looked in a bad shape, her instinct to help took away her fear as she raced to the front door and reefed on the handle.

Nothing it was locked, ‘Damn it’ she cussed under her breath and looked around her there was a reasonably big log laying near the door and she thought she could lift it. Struggling slightly she lifted it and rammed into the door, she felt the jarring sensation as it connected with the door but was relived when it gave way.

Letting the log fall to the ground she rushed over to the male tied and gagged, reaching up she removed the dirty rag from his mouth and looked around for a knife or something. Finding one she looked back and suddenly recognized the face, it was Marshall, and he sure as hell needed help.

“Marshall! Can you hear me!”

She said in a strong voice as she looked up at him, while waiting for an answer she carefully cut through the cable ties on his wrists. She needed to asses his wounds but she needed to find out if he was coherent at all first.

[thrif]

The size and weight of his guitar tested Adam’s balance as he walked with mud-laden boots through the forest. He plucked at the strings of the untuned guitar, grumbling every now and then as he got an odd note wrong here and there.

It had been all that little kids fault that his pride and joy had been untuned too, he should never have let her take a look at his guitar. She had fiddled with the tuning heads and screwed up the entire sound. That was why he was in the forest. He couldn’t concentrate in the town, there was always someone who’d interrupt him there so at least out here was quiet and he could be assured that there’d be no distract...

His head jerked up as an older, red headed woman run right past him as if the Devil had been chasing her towards an old ramshackle home.

“Hey you!” He had called out to her but figured that his voice landed on deaf ears as the older woman continued to run towards the house. He watched as she peered through one of the windows before running to the front, and knocking the door open with a large log that had been barring the door closed. He ran towards her as she ran inside, only just making it to the door as she un-gagged, and untied a man bound to a chair.

The limp guy started to fall forwards as his arms where released from their bounds and Adam ran towards the two of them, discarding his guitar onto the floor and reached out his hands in time to cushion his fall somewhat as he landed on the floor. A moment later he gently pushed him onto his back.


Marshall was still half-conscious as he face planted onto the floor. His arms felt heavy and sore and whoever was rolling him onto his back him had obviously given no thought to the fact that they might be hurting him; it wasn’t their priority.

At first he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there, the last thing he could remember was being unable to move a muscle, and then being forced to his knees. There was a ‘pop’ and a sudden splitting pain in his left shoulder. Davin had been there. What had happened to Davin? Was he the one who had rolled him over?

He tried to pull away from the mystery persons grasp but the person just became more insistent and eventually he was lying on his back on the floor.

“Look at his shoulder!” It was definitely a males voice he heard. Was that Dreadies? No, it was different. There was another voice; a woman’s, he realized. He knew that voice too...

His eyes were still closed; he hadn’t found the strength, or the courage to open them. One of the people placed a hand on his chest over his heart. Whoever they where they obviously wanted him alive. Next the person leant over his open mouth to check he was breathing and that’s when his nostrils were filed with a sweet, familiar scent he had lost when he dissapeared. There was a woman.

“Marshall.” The males voice filled his ears. He felt someone’s knees beside his shoulder, and his head in their hands. It had actually taken a few moments for Adam to recognize the slick, overly-sarcastic hick and it struck him that Marshall was almost unrecognizable for all of the blood and dirt caking his skin.“Marshall I need you to wake up. Open your eyes.”

He was trying didn’t he see that? He was trying to open his eyes but his eyelids felt like led weights and his body was too sore to move. “Marshal, please wake upl!” The guy shouted this time, shaking him.

Marshall groaned and struggled to open his eyes. He thought he could see a sliver of light but his eyes felt like sandpaper. Everything was fuzzy, like there was a layer of petroleum jelly on his eyeballs. He tried blinking, but it doesn’t clear anything up. He could just make out the blurry outlines of each of the people - he still wasn’t sure who they where but he definitely knew that they weren’t going to be a threat.

He blinked a few more times and his vision cleared slightly. He looked at Helga, but his eyes showed no sign of recognition. His brow creased in confusion as his blue eyes scanned the room again, and he looked up to see that Adam was looking at him too and he thinks he sees a flash of emotion - pity, maybe, but then he pulls the mask in place.

Adam was staring at Marshall’s shoulder. It was obviously septic; The sleeve of his shirt was torn open and covered with blood and his whole shoulder around the bullet wound was inflamed with red and purple bruising. There was puss around the bullet hole itself and it even looked like the bullet was still in there.

“Good. There you go.” Adam’s voice was gentle. “Can you hear me?” He looked at him expectantly. Marshall looked back up at Helga again with the same uncertainty as before. He opened his mouth but all that came out was a pathetic sounding whimper. Then he felt his whole body go suddenly cold before the corners of his blurry vision began to grow dark and he felt his head go limp.

[::Piffle::]

Helga who hadn’t reacted quickly enough as the unconscious man began to fall forward was shocked to see someone rush in and soften his fall before rolling him to his back. She had been first so self absorbed with the loss of her patient and then so determined to find the source of the noise she hadn’t even known anyone else was around.

She pulled herself together quickly however and having him on his back began to check his vital signs, while Adam called out to Marshall. Seeing his shoulder and feeling the heat of his forehead she knew something needed to be done about it quickly.

“Adam, check the taps if they work I need hot water in a container.”

She spoke as she tore the shirt away from the wound, it was already pretty ratty and she needed to see if there was any further damage. She figured for the moment Marshall wouldn’t mind, then with his shirt out of the way she took off her own, knelling beside him in her bra she felt exposed but at least her shirt was clean and soft.

Ripping it into strips she waited for the water see needed to clean the festering wound reaching over to her bag she pulled out some peroxide. She really was over prepared keeping peroxide in her bag but right now that was a good thing.

She hoped that Marshall could hear her even if he couldn’t respond.

“Marshall, its Helga, I’m going to help you, now I’m going to pour some peroxide onto your wound It’s going to hurt”

She said before proceeding to pour the peroxide onto the wound instantly it began to fix like crazy there was a lot of dirt and grime in his wound that needed to come out. Helga had always believed that even if the patient couldn’t talk to you or even hear you that well it was important to talk to them about what you were doing. She found it kept their minds at ease far better then not talking to them at all.

[thrif]

Adam baulked in horror as the woman doctor tore open Marshall’s shirt and took her own off and at first he hadn’t even heard her comment as she poured the peroxide onto Marshalls wound. Marshall groaned in protest, his head rolling to the side and one of his hands flinching.

Instantly, he regretted watching her pour the peroxide onto the open wound and he wondered whether he was standing a little too close as his knees buckled slightly and he felt dizzy.

Though he was not particularly weak in the stomach, this was different. This was someone that he knew and his life was quite literally in the hands of him and this doctor.

With that thought in mind, swallowing hard, Adam rallied, suppressed his fear and anxiety and prepared for the situation at hand. He pushed the fear aside and set his mind on the practical matters.

“Yeah. Hot water, got it.”The ginger haired young man was on his feet in a flash, rushing towards another room with no door handle. He nearly stumbled inside as he pushed the door open, amazed to see it was an old kitchen that also lead into a small bathroom. He dropped to his knees at some cupboards underneath the old sink and started to rummage through them till he found a bucket and a towel. Quickly, he placed the bucket in the basin and washed it out before filling it was hot water. He ran towards the little bathroom, flinging open the little medicine cabinets over the sink and taking out whatever pills he could find as well as a pair of scissors. "Ofloxasin" He read one of the bottles out-loud, before running out.

Moments later, he emerged from the other room. “Here you go.” Adam was at Helga’s side again, placing the bucket, towel and pills down beside her. He tried not to stare as he watched her clean his wound with her own shirt, sitting in her bra. His brow creased as he watched small beads of sweat drip from Marshall’s forehead.

He remembered Marshall pretty well, from the few times that he had seen him. The very first time he had watched him exiting the Police Station, probably after being arrested for the 100th time. The next was in the supermarket, where he had physically bumped right into him. “Why dontcha watch where your going Ginger-bred.” He had called him. Such was just one of the many nicknames he had given Adam.

“His temperature is pretty high.” He commented. “I saw a movie once, where something like this happened, and they put the guy under the shower to try and lower her temperature.” He knew enough to know that Marshall was septic. The infection had gotten into the bloodsteam. He had to fight off the urge to vomit as he looked down at the wound keeping fresh blood now. He hated the sight of blood.