Tales of the ARK (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1: My Beginning

It all began on the 8th of August. Doesn’t matter if that’s a cliche or perhaps a dull opening for my story, it gets to the point and that’s what matters. No need for a fancy introduction. My story began on August 8th, 2032, period. I had just woken up on that fateful day and made myself a steaming hot cup of coffee. I faintly recall the burn on my lip as I lightly sipped my piping hot brew. After taking a sip of the coffee, I shuffled over to the window and leaned against the sill, letting the warm sun wash over me. The quiet stillness of the morning enveloped me, and I couldn't help but let my mind wander. It was a Sunday, the one day of the week I was free from responsibility, on a whimsical summer morning. I remember, back then, when summer meant freedom. Playing outside with your friends, sitting on the couch playing video games, doing pretty much whatever you wanted. Summer meant freedom. Then I grew up. A similar case with almost every other adult I know; I’d give anything to be a kid again. Unfortunately, time machines still don’t exist.
Speaking of, remember when people thought we’d have flying cars by 2020? Well, 2032, and nope, we still don’t. It's been 12 years SINCE 2020, so I honestly don’t think a flying car is on the way anytime soon. I mean, why would it be? We have planes, don’t we? A flying car, in my eyes, would be useless. There would be too many complications, such as the potentially impossible-to-manage air traffic. These were my thoughts as I walked to the bus stop that morning, debating if it would be convenient or not to have flying cars. As I approached the stop, I saw the familiar figure of the bus driver, Marco, waiting for me with the doors open. I hopped on the bus and greeted my driver, who also happened to be my best friend. He gave me a silent nod, and I returned the gesture before settling into my usual seat. As we began to move, I stared out the window, lost in thought.
“Same Sunday location as always, Ry?” he asked politely, breaking the silence with a friendly tone. I nodded, which he saw through the mirror. It was unlike my usual self to not say something to start a conversation.
“You seem a bit quiet today, everything alright?” he questioned with genuine concern, which I noticed through the overhead mirror.
“Just feeling a little iffy today, you know how it goes.”
“Ah, I see. It happens to the best of us. But, uh, you can always talk to me, y'know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” I snapped with a rather annoyed tone. I felt guilty, but luckily Marco didn’t take it to heart. He knew I often had certain days in which I was in a bad mood for no real reason, contrasting with my otherwise optimistic and energetic personality. Shrugging my light hostility off, Marco took the hint and became silent. He knew that when I was moody, my absolute least favorite thing was socializing with anyone, friend or not. Thankfully, he respected that and usually left me alone. In turn, of course, I also heavily respected him.
Finally, he reached the stop. I went to hand him the fare, but he pushed my hand back, whispering that I should keep it. He was persistent, and if I tried to decline, he wouldn’t let me off the bus until I didn’t pay him. Which, of course, is precisely the opposite of how it was SUPPOSED to be. I didn't want to start a never-ending argument as I was particularly aggressive that day. I thanked him and returned the change to my pocket while I stepped off the bus, waving to Marco as he drove off. I was there. The park. My home away from home. I spent more time at this park than at my ACTUAL home and, of course, that miserable office more than the park.
It really doesn’t help that on top of working an 8-hour shift Monday through Saturday, my boss is a complete douchebag, and most of my coworkers are assholes. Not necessarily to me, but rather just in general. This park was my place to decompress and relax, thankfully unbothered. I strode along the grass until I found a secluded spot in the shade under a big oak tree. I carelessly sat down, resting my back against the trunk. All I intended was to simply read. However, the way the sun’s warmth hit my face, but its light was simultaneously blocked by the shade, presented a most comforting, soothing feeling. My eyes were already droopy, and I had a free schedule, so I gave in, letting myself succumb to my drowsiness. I fell asleep right under that oak tree. If only I’d taken more time to appreciate the earth, as this would be the last time I would see it.




Eventually, I woke up. Everyone wakes up when they go to sleep. Unless they die. I don’t know if I died. I still don’t. I wasn't under that oak tree when I woke up from the best nap I’d ever had. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the sun directly overhead, its light unshielded due to the lack of clouds. It burned my eyes. I was also lying down, and I didn’t recall the trunk of the tree being so soft, or the grass being so irritating and coarse. I sat myself up, still disoriented as I had just woken up. This half-awakeness didn’t last long, as I was jolted awake by an intense stinging pain in my arm. It was brief, and a devastating headache diverted my attention away from my arm. I felt the sand trickle down my bare back. I was naked. All except for my underwear, though I didn’t notice it right away. I focused my attention on looking around, taking in my surroundings.
I didn’t have my bag next to me. I wasn’t sitting on the grass. There was no tree. There was no park. There was a beach. Sand. Water. I stood up, facing the ocean, a rather beautiful view. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep in the park, but now I found myself on a beach I didn't recognize. The air smelled different, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was all I could hear. I sat up and looked around, trying to make sense of what had just happened. As I brushed the sand from my body, the question of whether or not this was a dream would not leave. It was such an unusual predicament that a dream was the only plausible explanation for what was going on. Though never in my life have I had a dream this vividly clear. It was too real.
I knew this when I stood up, and the burning sand scorched my feet. It forced any part of my body that may have still been asleep to awake, and I yelped in pain. Instinct took over, and I rushed to the water, dipping my feet in the blue. Sadly, that brief wave of relief I felt was almost instantly replaced by the freezing cold of the icy blue. I jumped back into the sand, and luckily since my feet were wet, the scorching pain of the sand was blocked. My feet were still cold, but the beating sun warmed the rest of my body, which was then when I realized my lack of clothes. I searched around for any of my possessions. Disappointment, all I saw was sand and water in every direction except to my left, which was instead a sect of lush green grass, trees, and other vegetation. It looked like it led to more land, but I was too busy panicking to let curiosity drive me. I was lost. No idea where I was. I was alone. Not a single other living organism was in sight. I had nothing. I was naked and had nothing.
No. I couldn’t think like that. I couldn’t afford to. I had nothing, but I had something. I had my body, my brain. I was alive. That counted as something, right? I knew one thing. If I was going to get rescued, I needed to keep that. I needed to stay alive. If I had nothing and remained here, I’d die. Then I’d never get rescued. Would never get home, see my cat Sprinkles, and never see Marco. My fight or flight response kicked in, and since there was nowhere to run but the unknown sea and inland, I chose to fight. I took a deep breath, and in response, my stomach grumbled. I was hungry. Starving. I needed food. However, I needed to assess myself. That came first.
I took another breath, then noticed something. I saw a bulge in my pants. Embarrassed, I looked around but ultimately knew nobody was there to judge me for my morning wood. But it wasn’t what I thought it was. There was an irritating scratch in my crotch area caused by something that shouldn’t be there. I reached into my pants and felt paper. I had something. I pulled it out and unrolled it. When I did, a small metal compass dropped to the sand. Despite this, I was more interested in what was on the paper because it turned out it wasn’t just a mere piece of paper at all. It was a map. A detailed map of a place I’ve never seen before.
I felt a spark of hope. It might be a map of where I was. While I had no idea what this place was or where on the map I currently sat, it was something. There was also the compass. That was something else. But my hunger? That was something too, and I could no longer ignore it. I placed the map on the sand, and the compass on top to prevent it from blowing away, then ran to the vegetation. There were bushes, many bushes, and each one held colorful berries. I inspected the berries, my potential source of food. Unfortunately, they were berries I’d never seen before. I couldn’t recognize them, so I reconsidered. However, my hunger screamed at me to insert food into my body. The worst-case scenario? The berries would be poisonous, and I’d die a slow, painful, torturous death.
I desperately looked around for anything else, but there was nothing. I didn’t want to venture inland, as I gathered it was safest to stay at the beach. I didn’t know what kind of dangers may await me. I couldn’t help myself. They looked so colorful and sweet. I carefully picked a blue-colored berry, which looked like a raspberry. I threw it in my mouth. I knew one way to distinguish poisonous and non-poisonous berries; the taste. It wasn’t surefire by any means, but it applied to the majority, or at least that's what I assumed. If it was bitter and tasteless, it would probably kill you.


When I inserted the berry into my mouth, I was prepared to spit it out immediately upon even the slightest taste of bitterness. It wasn’t bitter. It was sweet. So incredibly sweet. It grabbed every taste bud and lured it in, making my mouth crave more. I reached out my right hand, grabbed a handful of the berries, and shoved them in my mouth. I cared not that the juice splattered all over my face. They were so good. Truly delicious. I reached my left hand to grab another handful, and that's when I saw it. Implanted in my arm was a rhombus-shaped crystal. I froze. It was in my skin. I scratched it wildly, trying to remove it, but it wouldn’t budge. It felt like it was so deep it was fused to my bone. It hurt, but not enough for me to cry over it.
Defeated and having not made a single scratch, I quickly gave up trying to pry the crystal thing out of my arm and instead opted to search for more of the blue berries. I knew there were other kinds of berries, red ones, yellow ones, a whole rainbow of them, but I only knew the blue ones were safe so far. Safe in the sense they didn’t kill me right away that is. I wasn’t keeping track of time, but after a couple minutes, my hands were full. Full of those tasty blue berries. I found a spot on the sand and ate them. Every single one. They were delicious and worked wonders to satisfy my dried mouth. The fact that I desperately needed something to eat only further intensified its taste. But there was a downside, that is they weren’t very fulfilling. While they were able to still my hunger, which eased the suffering, they weren’t by any means able to quell the beast inside my stomach, which demanded more sustenance. I tried to eat more after picking, but my mouth said otherwise. The sweetness of the berries now stung, and I felt cuts on the insides of my mouth. The berries now tasted incredibly sour and burned my mouth to the touch. I needed something else.
I walked along the shore in the direction that the woods led. That’s when I came across it. A creature. In the distance, a small creature waddled along the shoreline. I couldn’t tell if it was a chicken, duck, or something else, but it didn’t matter. It was food. Normally, I’d never consider killing an animal for food, but there was no other option. I ran towards the creature and realized it was neither a chicken nor a duck. It was something I’d never seen before. It was roughly the same size AS a duck, although noticeably more prominent in size, and the beak was longer, rounded, and hooked at the end. Its feet weren’t webbed but rather looked similar to those of a chicken. It had feathers, and incredibly short wings, ones that it surely couldn’t use to fly. In fact, the only thing clear about it was that it was some kind of bird, and upon encountering it, it let out a warble similar to that of a turkey. It was cute-ish, so I looked around again, desperate for any alternative. Nothing. I walked over and picked up a hefty stone; ‘twas light enough to throw but heavy enough to pack a punch. I took aim and threw the rock at its head using all the strength I could muster.
Except I missed. The rock collided with the sand with a thud, unsurprisingly startling the creature. It flapped its short, stubby wings and squawked as it ran into the woods, which appeared to expand in size and grow denser as I walked further along the shore. I sighed and scanned the area to see if there was another one of those fat birds. No luck. I began to walk back the way I came, especially since I then realized I had no way to cook the meat had I actually managed to kill it in the first place. I needed fire. That was something else that was vital for my survival. I needed fire. I only took a few steps when I heard a shriek. Immediately I knew what made the noise. It was a warbling shriek and the same pitch as the one the bird made. I noticed the rummaging in the bushes but couldn’t see clearly what it was. I could only make out that it was definitely larger than the fleeing bird. I tensed up. It was big, and I didn't know what it was. Well, not until what was moving stepped out, anyway.
I first saw the creature, bloodied, and then the spear. The spear had impaled the bird and was carrying it like a kabob. Then I saw the hands, human hands, then the human they belonged to. A human stepped out of the bushes, carrying a makeshift spear that carried the dead creature, parading it around like a twisted decoration. I didn’t know what to feel. At first, it was a wave of relief. Finally, someone came to save me. Then I looked at him again. He wore what looked like cloth clothes, poorly stitched together. He carried a satchel and that spear that killed the duck creature. He wasn’t here to rescue me. He was stuck in this place too. All of his equipment looked like it was thrown together using the resources of wherever this place was. Some kind of island, perhaps? He was filthy, and his hair almost completely covered his eyes. He had been stuck here too, evidently longer than me. But how long, though?
I opened my mouth to speak, then felt fear. This man had a weapon and resources. I had nothing. He could kill me at any second, and I wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him. I realized that, and I was scared. He had been here longer than me. That much was obvious. I didn’t know where I was or how this place worked. Maybe he did. Perhaps it was entirely a kill-or-be-killed world. We stared at each other, each of us gauging the other. I was waiting for him to do something. I didn't know his intentions and didn’t want to make the wrong judgment. He looked like he'd been here longer than me, so I didn’t want to try and run or fight in case he could help me, even if it wasn’t rescuing. But, on the other hand, I didn’t want to try to be friendly either, as that spear would quickly end my life if I found myself on the wrong end of it. My death, whether or not I lived, at that moment, was entirely up to him. A rather untimely death, in my eyes.
“If you’re going to try and kill a Dodo with a stone, you should probably use a slingshot. Your aim is awful,” he chuckled in a deep and burly voice. I eased up but remained in too much disbelief (Or was it fear?) to say anything. So I just stood there, likely looking really stupid.
“Here, you can borrow mine. I just got my hands on a bow, so you’ll probably use it more than I will,” the man said, reaching into his satchel.
A few seconds passed, and he pulled out nothing else but a makeshift slingshot. He walked closer to me, and I hesitantly backed up. I stopped when he reached his hand out, offering me the weapon. I didn’t want to be rude, so I took it and tucked its handle into my waistband. I gave a very meek “Thank you” and straightened my posture to avoid looking like a spineless coward. (Though I may have done so already.) At this point, I was about to turn around and bolt, running as far back as I could down the shore. The only thing stopping me? I was definitely going to get caught eventually. I’m not in exactly the best shape, but this dude was. His bulging muscles were definitely a sight, impossible to not notice. He looked like he could easily crush my head between his arms like an egg. But he gave me a weapon. A ranged weapon.
I may not be a good thrower, as I lack any real power behind my arms, but I’m sure as hell a good shot. I’m a deadly good shot. This man said he had a bow, but I didn’t see him carrying it. There was nowhere he could have been hiding it, and the only other visible weapon he had was that spear, which still had a “Dodo,” if that's what they’re called, stuck on the end of it. Suddenly I had an epiphany. I thought that realistically, it might not be in my worst interest to kill him with the slingshot and use his stuff to give me a head start. So, I bent down to pick up a stone off the sand, and the man didn’t react. He didn’t view me as a threat.
The more I thought about it, even if it was just for a few seconds, the more I realized how killing or even simply knocking him out would be entirely possible, provided I didn’t wildly screw things up. So I began to collect more stones, as much as my arms could carry, when he spoke again.
“You just arrived on this island, didn’t you?” he asked, confirming my suspicion of what this place could be. I didn’t bother looking up as I searched the beach for more stones, and replied to him with a half-hearted “Yeah.” There was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again.
“Hmph, I know how treacherous this island can be, especially when you’re clueless. You seem alright, so would you like me to help you?”
I stopped. Help me? I slapped myself back to my senses. What the fucke was I thinking?! Kill him? Was I out of my mind?! It hasn’t even been an hour since I woke up here, and murder and thievery were the two main things on my mind? I would NEVER even CONSIDER something as vile as this back home. Being on an unknown island shouldn’t change that. Not yet, anyway. I stood up from my crouched rock-gathering position to look him in the eye. I nodded quietly in response to his question. When I did, I saw a faint smile form on his face. At first glance, I thought it was a smirk and immediately reconsidered as it may have been a trap. However, upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t a smirk but a genuine, happy smile. Maybe he had gotten lonely? I didn’t know how many other people, if any, were on this island. Or how big the island even was. All of that, at the moment, did not matter.
“In that case, let’s go get us some dinner! Dodos don’t give much meat due to their small size and rather large abundance of bones, so we’ll need more. I suggest getting that slingshot ready, there should be a couple more of those damned birds down that way,” he explained and pointed down the further direction of the shore.
I gave a quick nod and tried to grab my slingshot before quickly realizing I still had all those rocks in my hands. They all fell as I desperately tried to grab any I could get my hands on, but I came up with a total of zero stones caught. Hooray! The man chuckled once more. I was about to yell at him when he reached into his satchel and pulled out ANOTHER satchel. He tossed it to me, and unlike the rocks, I caught it.
“Always carry a spare,” he said. I slung it around my shoulder, backward, so that the bag was resting over my chest as opposed to my back. That way, once I filled it with stones, I'd have a quick way to rapidly fire and reload projectiles from the gifted slingshot. As he complimented my idea, I began frantically shoving all the stones into the satchel, then retrieved some more from the shoreline. It had quite a bit of weight to it by the time I felt like I had enough, but not enough to slow me down. FInally, I snatched the slingshot from my pants, looked at the man, and nodded, signaling that I was ready. He returned the gesture and began walking down the beach.
I followed him for a few meters until we rounded a stretch of sand that stuck out like a sore thumb. That’s when I saw a small flock of those Dodos. I looked at the man, and he just stared back. He was waiting for ME. I was expected to take action. So I did. I walked closer to a Dodo, but not so close that it would flee. I inserted a stone into the slingshot’s band, which wasn’t made of rubber, as it was relatively harder to pull back and felt way too rough. Presumably, it was some kind of raw fiber. It took a good amount of strength to pull it back far as it would go. Once pulled back, I aimed it so the Dodo’s head was right between the Y-shape. The Dodo stopped and turned its head to stare right at me. Stupid thing to do on its part. It was now directly in my line of fire. “I’m sorry, little guy,” I said as I let go of the band and instantaneously shut my eyes as I heard the collision, the crunch of the stone shattering the little bird’s skull. The Dodo’s squawk of pain was brief. At least it died quickly. I heard another thud, this one being the Dodo’s body hitting the ground.
I opened my eyes to see the Dodo, with a small pool of red liquid around its head. I regret looking closer because its head had an indent in it. The poor bird’s skull had been shattered as effortlessly as a toothpick. I felt bad. I looked back at the man, awaiting his approval, while he stood there observing. He held up a single finger. Confused, I embarrassingly tilted my head like a curious dog. It didn’t help that I was still crouched down, either. I heard a sigh, then before he could speak, I realized he wanted me to kill one more. Thus, I reloaded my slingshot and aimed it at a Dodo a bit farther away. Like before, I fired and shut my eyes, awaiting the crunch of the stone smashing into the bird’s skull. I heard it, albeit faintly, and approached the Dodo’s body. Not the corpse, because I noticed its chest rising up and down upon arriving close to it.
It was breathing. Alive but not moving. I bent down and felt the side of its neck. Expectedly and unexpectedly, I felt a pulse. The bird was alive. It was unconscious. I didn’t think much of it at the time and fired another stone point-blank directly at its head, letting out a loud crunch. Once dead, I scooped up the Dodo in my left arm after returning my slingshot to my waistband. I ran over to the second Dodo and picked up that as well. I carried the two dead animals over to the man, whose name I still did not know. He then signaled for me to follow, and so I did.
Instead of walking along the shore this time, he dipped into the woods. I reluctantly followed him until I saw a light in the distance. That, and smoke rising above the trees. At that point, it was beginning to grow dark. Rapidly. This confused me as daytime had NEVER progressed that quickly. Not thinking too much of it, I stepped into a clearing where the man stood at his camp. There was a makeshift tent with a sleeping bag and a campfire as well. He set his satchel next to a small wooden crate and motioned for me to come closer. I handed him one of the Dodos, which he instantly impaled on his spear. He then did the same with the third, so all three Dodos were penetrated. He then centered them on the middle of the spear and placed it over the fire on a stand composed of two sticks with a V shape carved into their tops stuck into the ground on opposing sides of the campfire.
“These things take a bit to cook. Would you mind gathering some berries?” Vendetta asked. I nodded in response, still remaining primarily silent. Then I asked, “Does it matter which ones? How do I tell what berries are poisonous?”
“All berries on this island are safe, mostly. The only questionable ones are the white ones and the black ones. The white, they’re incredibly bitter and will dehydrate you if you eat too much. Otherwise, they’re harmless. The black ones… Don’t eat the black ones, they’ll knock you out almost instantly. Only takes a small handful. Though they are good for you if you can’t fall asleep, which happens quite often. Otherwise, don’t consume them.”
“Should I still collect them if I see them?” I asked.
“Absolutely. I haven’t exactly figured out how yet, but I can guarantee we can use them to make some sort of narcotics. Through observation, I noticed the berries' sleep-inducing effects also affect other creatures on this island. Plus, as I said, it's useful for getting sleep,” he explained. I was about to ask what he meant by the “other creatures,” but he somehow sensed I was going to and stopped me.
“I’ll explain to you later, but right now we’re running out of light. Just collect as many berries as you can and make sure the fire is within your sight at all times. If absolutely ANYTHING, no matter how big or small, does so much as come into your vision, run right back here immediately. Understand?”
I nodded. I still couldn’t muster up any words. I just couldn’t find anything else to say. I was still in shock. Everything happening was so surreal. I knew I wasn’t on earth. I had no proof this was the case, but it was a hunching feeling. A nagging feeling so intense I could not shake, try as I might. I had accepted the fact that I was not home. I was far from it. I didn’t know where or what this place was. There was ONE thing I knew, though: I needed to survive if I was ever to see home again. My friends, my family, everyone, and everything I love. I didn’t know if it was possible to ever return home. I still don’t. But I must keep holding onto that hope, even if it's down to a mere thread. I must stay hopeful. I must not lose sight of what's important. I must survive.



I repeated those exact words in my head, then gathered myself. Okay, berries. All I needed were some berries. The sky grew darker every second, so I needed to act quickly before the darkness consumed my sight. I looked around to see if maybe there were some berry-bearing bushes I could just gather the fruit from without having to leave the camp. There was, unfortunately, nothing but trees. This other human must have cleared the bushes out already, so I needed to venture inland. I took a deep breath. My heart was racing. To say the least, I was afraid. I was afraid because I then knew that there were in fact other unknown dangers on the island. The man told me if I saw something to run back to the camp. Though what if something saw me? Something I didn’t see. Something I likely wouldn’t even notice, since it was growing dark. It was growing dark FAST. But I needed the berries, and this man was likely thinking I was some kind of retard, just standing there in thought. I needed to stop. Stop being scared. Man up. What would your momma think if she found out you were scared of the dark? She’d say, “I know I didn’t raise no bitch.”
I couldn’t disappoint her. If I died and she came to greet me at the gates of heaven, I wouldn’t be able to face her knowing I perished like a coward. Perished AS a coward. I miss you, mom. I stopped trying to convince myself it was a bad idea. I flipped my satchel over and poured the stones onto a pile on the ground. The plan was simple; I go inland a bit, gather any berries I see until the satchel is stocked to the rim, and come back. If I see or even hear anything, I dart back to the camp, and pray that whatever the thing may be can't run faster than me. I also wouldn’t go down without a fight, if the thing in question did manage to catch me. Again, I had no idea what kinds of “things” I should be looking out for. I’ve heard of Dodo birds. They went extinct a long time ago, though not exactly sure when. I remember what I was thinking at that time, as I prepared myself to head inland. Was it possible that this island could be filled with extinct creatures?
I remember how badly I hoped that it wasn’t dinosaurs. Now? Now I laugh at that pathetic thought, teeming with falsehood. At the time, I didn’t know. Dinosaurs? Living dinosaurs? On the same plane of existence as me? I expunged that possibility from my head for some unidentified and honestly quite stupid reason before venturing inland. Stupid, because I didn't seem to recall the fact that if Dodo birds, creatures that went extinct a long time ago, were here on this island, then it was likely that OTHER extinct creatures awaited me too. And that includes, you guessed it, dinosaurs. Thankfully, I swiftly gathered up my courage and began to hunt for berries after convincing myself there weren’t dinosaurs on this island with me. Oh, how wrong I was.
A few minutes later, I had no idea why I was scared. The task was highly underwhelming. I only had to travel about 6 meters before I found a plethora of vegetation. I could still see the flames from the campfire clearly, so evidently, I didn’t have to travel far at all. And of course, the vegetation aforementioned presented a rainbow of berries. I was able to fill the satchel before I even saw the moon. That’s not saying the moon didn’t rise though, the trees blocked most of my view of the starry night sky. Actually, that statement about not seeing the moon was completely useless in that case. Luckily, I was able to get back to the camp scot-free before it got too dark, where instead of not being able to see most of the sky, I wouldn’t be able to see anything. Except for the fire. As I said, I barely had to travel far at all. Honestly, I made the berry picking a WAY bigger deal than needed.
Thankfully this wasn’t a common thing I do. I’m usually not an overthinker, and my guess is that it was the stress of being in this unfamiliar environment that caused me to overthink picking fuckeing berries in the first place. I felt stupid, but realized that all this happened in my head, and, from what I knew, the only other possible person able to judge me wasn't a mind reader. Or at least I hoped. He was sitting by the fire, rotating the stick with the birds, making sure they got evenly cooked on all sides. He must have heard me approaching because before I had said anything he told me to put the berry satchel next to the wooden crate. I did so, then went back over to sit next to the man.
"So, you never told me your name," I told him upon sitting down.
"You never asked."
I paused for a moment. He was right, however, I couldn't give him too much credit, because if he was from the same earth as me, then introductions weren't usually out of the question. I remained silent, waiting for him to say anything else. He didn't. He really wanted me to ask, huh? Nonetheless, curiosity overtook me, so I eventually DID ask.
"The name's Vendetta. You?" he answered. Yet again, I stopped to process this man's words. Who in their right mind would name their kid "Vendetta?” Strange.
"My name is Ryan, nice to meet you!" I told him all friendly-like.
"No, it isn't." He responded almost instantly. I was taken aback. Did I do something wrong? Obviously, that was a bit rude, and not to sound sensitive, but that kinda hurt my feelings. I looked to the ground, feeling a bit sad, but mostly confused. What had I done to make our interaction an unpleasant one? He must have noticed how I took it, and spoke again.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it wasn't nice to meet you, I meant that your name isn't Ryan."
The small bit of sadness I had quickly disappeared, but the confusion grew. How was Ryan not my name? Last I checked, that was what was written on the birth certificate. I looked at him with an insanely puzzled expression on my face. He turned to face me, and after observing my face, countered MY puzzled expression with a puzzled expression of his OWN. This "Vendetta" guy was obviously VERY good at reading people, and being aware of things before they happen. Why? Because once again, he was able to answer a question I had before I even asked it.
"In this place, we don't use our real names. The Overseer doesn't like that. Instead, we go by codenames, given to us by said Overseer. My earth name is Casey, but here, I'm Vendetta. I'm unsure whether the codenames hold meaning to them, or if they were chosen just because."
He paused for a second and chuckled.
"I'm not complaining though, I think Vendetta is a pretty badass name. Much better than Casey," he said. "What do you think?"
"Honestly, I think both names are pretty badass. I'd much rather have my name be Casey than Ryan. Never personally knew anyone with that name, there’s just something about that name that appeals to me," I told him, then followed it up with a small chuckle of my own. Truth be told, that statement wasn’t entirely true. The name Casey was okay, sure, but it wasn’t exactly “badass,” as I had put it. Still, it put a smile on Vendetta’s face, and that was good enough for me. Aside from that, one of my major flaws that have always been and still remains present even now is that I tend to ramble a lot on things that don't really matter. Though I suppose that's what rambling is, I guess.
“So, what codename has the Overseer gifted you?” Vendetta asked me.
“That I’m unsure of. How do I find out?”
“You know that crystal in your arm? Swipe upwards on it with two fingers.”
I looked at the implanted crystal in my arm. I felt a lump in my throat. Something about this crystal, something about it scared me. Ever since I first saw it while picking berries, I’ve had a strong sense of unease lurking behind me. More so than when I first got here. Something about this crystal, something about it didn’t feel right. No, something about it WASN’T right. That and the fact that there was apparently an “Overseer” that decided our names? Logically, it only made sense to conclude that this Overseer person was in some kind of control. Perhaps the reason me and Vendetta were here in the first place. Unease then grew to dread. Something was incredibly wrong here. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t the time to play detective though. I didn’t know enough about this place to jump to conclusions. I kept my mouth shut for the time being.
Ignoring my suspicions, I braced myself, then proceeded to swipe on the crystal. Upon doing so, I felt it vibrate, which hurt slightly. It vibrated then projected an image facing me out of it. It was a hologram of some sort, which reminded me of Star Wars. In the image was a picture of me, along with a lot more info that I glanced over. I skimmed the holographic image until I found what I was looking for, ignoring the rest of the information.
“According to this, my name is Era? Wait no, it says something else. Apparently, my name is Eradicator?”
“An equally badass name. I like it!” Vendetta exclaimed.
I couldn't help but let a smile form on my face. I thanked him and was about to ask him how to get rid of the hologram. I decided, however, that I would use my brain for once and actually figure something out myself. Using common sense, it was only reasonable to assume that if I had to swipe upward to project the image, then swiping downward would get rid of it. I placed my middle and index finger on the top of the crystal and swiped down. It vibrated painfully once more, but my assumption was correct. An equal trade-off. We sat there in silence until Vendetta eventually stopped spinning the stick. He dulled the fire and stood up. I continued to sit there while he walked over to the wooden crate and reached inside, rummaging around. Soon after he pulled out what looked to be a large mortar and pestle constructed purely from stone. He held them in his left hand and grabbed the berry satchel in his right. As he walked back to me, he asked, “You a good cook?”
I nodded. I had taken culinary arts classes for a good long while. I had determined when I was young, and growing up, that I wanted to be a chef. I pursued that dream, only to have life beat me down with a stick. Instead, I worked a crappy desk job in which every day I wanted to murder someone. Or, I used to. The upside to this island? My only responsibility is to survive. No more no less. That means thankfully, no Gerald. I hated that man. A quality candidate and definitely a top contender for the title: “Worst Boss Ever.”
That aside, Vendetta placed the mortar and pestle in between us and sorted through the berries, picking out the red and white ones. After separating all the red and white berries from the rest, he began to place some of them in the mortar, however not all of the berries could fit. He stood up again.
“I need to go grab some water, while I do that, can you mash up the tintoberries and stimberries for me?” he asked politely.
“Excuse me?”
“The red and white ones.”
“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thanks, I’ll only be a bit, but just in case, if I die, everything here is yours. Until then though, don’t touch my stuff. Got it?”
“Yep.”
With that, he walked over to the crate, then pulled out what I first assumed was another satchel, but later found out was a hide waterskin. He snatched his spear and disappeared into the woods, going in the direction we came to the camp from. I began to mash the two berries together, which was quite a hard task. The tintoberries were like those cherry tomatoes, but the stimberries, the white ones, had a hard shell. A shell that was surprisingly hard to crack. Nonetheless, I mashed them all until they mixed together and formed a paste. It had the consistency of tomato sauce, just without the chunks of vegetables.
Since the tintoberries heavily reminded me of cherry tomatoes, I plopped one that I had saved into my mouth. It didn’t taste nor have the texture of a cherry tomato but was still delicious. It tasted almost like a grape, but sweeter. Curiosity then arose, and I decided to taste some more berries. The yellow ones were the only other tasteful ones, they looked AND tasted like ACTUAL blueberries, minus the color. Besides, most blueberries are 100% purple anyway. Speaking of purple, the purple colored berries barely scratched mediocre. They had a bitter aftertaste that ruined their small bit of sweetness tenfold. I took a tiny bite of a singular black berry next. Tasted like spoiled wine. Definitely the worst-tasting one.
The only berry type I hadn’t tasted were the stimberries, which I didn’t mind not tasting. After all, Vendetta had said they were incredibly bitter, and judging by their hard shell and chalky-looking insides, tasted horrible. After forming the desired paste, I waited. I had no idea what this paste was for, but I wasn’t going to question it. I sat there, staring into the fire while I awaited Vendetta’s return. It didn’t take too long for that. He returned and glanced down at the mortar, and proceeded to then pour some of the water in the waterskin into the mortar. He set the waterskin aside, and grabbed a handful of the yellow berries, tossing them into the mortar.
“Mix them together, please,” he said. No response was needed. I began mashing and mixing some more until the mixture was a faint yellow color with the consistency having drastically changed from paste-like to a liquid. Vendetta looked at my work, then proceeded to toss in a smaller handful of more yellow berries.
“I have to go take a leak, just continue mixing amarberries into the mixture until it's a bright shade of yellow. Please,” he requested once again. I gave him an understanding nod, then continued my mixing. The mortar was almost overflowing with the liquid by the time I had the desired color, as well as by the time Vendetta returned. He looked down, sat himself down, picked the mortar up, and poured some down into his mouth. He smacked his lips. “Tastes wonderful,” he said, then offered me the juice. All it took was a single sip for me to fall amazed. This juice was so sweet. I recalled the feeling when I first tried the blue berries, the way they exploded in flavor. This juice was so much better. I took another big sip. I couldn't help myself.
“Save some for me,” he chuckled heartily.
I lowered the mortar and wiped some of the juice from my lip. It was only then, after I sipped the berry juice, that I realized how thirsty I was. I didn’t want to be greedy, so I managed to suppress the thirst, much easier than the hunger might I add. Then finally, after quite a while, he removed the Dodos from the fire, and placed them side by side on the ground, in between us to the right of the mortar, already half empty. He went back to the crate, and once there pulled out a crude stone hatchet, obviously crafted by hand. Who knew stone could be made so sharp? He was able to chop the three Dodo’s heads clean off with a single strike for each one. Then came the feathers. We had to hand-pluck every feather from all three Dodos. The task was tedious, especially since most of the feathers had burned, making them way harder to grab. I then realized, after staring at the Dodo’s skin, that we should have plucked the feathers BEFORE cooking them. I explained this to Vendetta, and all he could say to that was, “Oops.”
I knew that wasn’t the end of the Dodo prep, because, from previous personal experience, I knew we were going to have to gut the creatures. I cringed when I realized this. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’ve always been a bit squeamish. Not to the point where I faint at the sight of a drop of blood, but reaching my hand inside a dead animal to rip out its organs is a line I was not and am still not willing to cross.
“We don’t have to gut the creatures, if that’s what you’re squirming at. We can just eat them like this, just be careful of the bones,” Vendetta explained, once more seeming to have read my mind.
“Say no more,” I said and picked up a Dodo. I bit into its flesh, ripping off a chunk of the skin with my teeth. I chewed it. Tasted awful. But I was too hungry to stop myself. I bit off another piece, then another, then another until all the skin was pretty much gone. I caught a glance of its insides, due to its new lack of skin. I could hardly see any of the organs thanks to its overwhelming skeleton, something I still remain thankful for. I tossed the Dodo aside, preventing myself from getting too curious and subsequently losing everything I just ate. I looked up at Vendetta, sitting across from me, staring at me with a concerned look as he lightly chewed a single piece.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I replied as I took another sip of the berry juice to wash down the putrid taste of the Dodo meat, leaving the rest for Vendetta. I was still incredibly thirsty, though, and found myself licking my lips as I watched Vendetta slurp down the rest of the tasteful berry juice.
“How does it work?” I asked. Vendetta looked at me, puzzled. “The juice, I mean. How does it go from a paste to a liquid with just a couple of berries and water?”
“Remember when I said stimberries dehydrate you? I’m not entirely sure, but I think it has something to do with the way their chalky insides absorb water. The tintoberries and amarberries only serve the purpose of adding taste, as well as some extra nutrients.”
“I see. By the way, are you gonna use that extra water?”
“I was planning on saving it, but you can drink it if you’d like. I can always get more in the morning.”
I thanked him and grabbed the half-full waterskin. I opened the flap, which acted like a funnel, and viciously consumed every drop of water. It sprinkled all throughout my insides, extinguishing the flames that dried up my stomach.
“Fun fact about this island,” Vendetta began. “The sea water is perfectly safe to drink. No filtration or boiling required! You can just drink it straight from the sea! That is, of course, only if you’re okay with knowing you’d be drinking the same water that the aquatic creatures go to the bathroom in.”
If I had any water left in my mouth, I’d have spit it out. It didn’t occur to me to question where he got the water from. In the end, it didn’t matter. It hydrated me. It kept me alive. Being alive was key. No complaining allowed.
“I’m gonna try to get some sleep, I’m dreadfully tired,” Vendetta told me.
“I’ll stay up a bit, that okay?”
“Yeah, if that's the case, I want to give you something.’’
Vendetta went over to his storage crate and pulled out a book. He walked over and handed it to me. I looked at the cover. It bore a brown leather cover with the name “Helena Walker” inscribed into it. Nothing else. It was tied closed with a rope.
“This is a dossier I found while exploring. It details presumably all the creatures on this island. It’ll not only give you something to do, but also inform you of the wildlife, something critical to your survival. I’ve read through every page countless times and memorized almost every word. It’s yours now.”
I was shocked? Stunned? Flabbergasted? I was in disbelief, mostly. Through this disbelief, I was luckily able to muster a thank you.
“Tomorrow we’ll get you set up. Get some clothes and supplies, sound good?”
I gave an enthusiastic “Yup!” and frantically untied the rope binding the pages shut. He gave a warm smile and stepped into the tent, nestling up in his makeshift sleeping bag. I opened the book and skimmed through it. My wish, my hope that it wasn’t true, was crushed. I took one look at the T-Rex and felt a shiver down my spine. I scanned through the dossier some more. Dinosaurs, and many other creatures I’d never heard of before filled this island. This is what I was pitted against? Not only was I practically alone in the wilderness, but there were dangerous creatures lurking around potentially every corner? I took a second, third, and fourth glance at the many creatures, and one thing became perfectly clear to me: I was no longer on earth, and survival was going to be no easy task.

I remained awake most of the night reading through the dossier. Vendetta let me keep the campfire on until I fell asleep, as long as I kept it fueled. It gave me the light and, more importantly, the warmth I needed since I didn’t have a sleeping bag of my own. Before going to bed he tried to offer to let me sleep in his, but I declined. Thus, he let me have the campfire on to compensate for this. Eventually, I was able to get some sleep, but only because my body forced me to. The cold, hard, dirty ground presented a most uncomfortable feeling, making the small amount of sleep miserable. Though, I suppose I should be grateful I had gotten any sleep at all, huh? I awoke to the bright sun striking my face with its burning crimson rays. The first thing I noticed upon waking up was the sound of distant thudding. I forced myself upright and looked around. Nothing. I forced myself to stand up. I was tired and groggy. Getting very little sleep tended to have that effect. I rubbed my eyes and made my way toward the noise.
It didn’t take long for me to find Vendetta, wielding his stone hatchet and slamming it on a tree. He was slamming it quite hard, sending chunks of wood pieces flying everywhere. I remained behind him, narrowly avoiding a piece of wood flying into my eye. It didn’t seem like he saw me, so I got the brilliant idea to keep my presence unknown and observe him. Mainly so I could gather how I would be supposed to do these things on my own. I ducked behind a bush and watched closely, and found that he wasn’t just slamming his hatchet into the tree all carefree. He was slicing it. It was like he was skinning the tree, stripping off, no, peeling off the outsides of the tree like you’d peel a potato. He was carefully navigating his stone blade along the tree, stripping off strong pieces of thatch and bark. I watched him do this for quite a long while, that was until he had an incident. On a certain strike, instead of the blade gliding along the tree, the stone piece flew off the handle, shooting off to the side like a rocket, and like a sniper’s bullet, directly in the direction of my face. It happened too fast. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have hidden so close behind him. It collided with my skull as I let out a very loud “Ow'' before I fell backward and landed unconscious.