Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-5973399-20150729191715

I'm in the odd position of having actually uploaded it, but nobody's actually reviewed it or anything after about five days, so it might be terrible for all I know. Might because it's stupidly long, might be because it's so boring any readers are put to sleep by the end, might be because it's so amazingly supreme that people are lost for words. I don't know. That's why I'm here.

It was a miserable winter in 1993 when I lay bleeding.

Waves battered the side of the boat. I pulled up my coat’s hood, which hardly did anything against the torrent of rain. The moon shone brightly. The Venture was a small fishing boat, and all of its seven (Maybe five; Lister and Miller were really no more than passengers) crew- with the possible exception of Captain Nichols- were wishing they were somewhere warm and dry.

“Fucking hell, it’s bad weather,” said Carson, shoving his hands into his coat.

“Convenient how Captain Nichols gets to stay in his nice warm cabin,” Hollis grumbled. “How long till this trip’s over, anyway?”

“Oh, stop your griping, Hollis. We’ll be back soon enough,” said Nichols, having gone unnoticed by Hollis.

Hollis opened his mouth, but Miller interrupted him with a shout.

“Jesus, look at this,” she shouted. The four of us on the stern exchanged glances, before running towards her.

We all arrived, and for a second we saw nothing.

“What is it?” asked Carson, and then we noticed.

In front of us was nothing except a wall of fog, encompassing the entire horizon, perhaps thirty meters in front of us. It rolled across the sea, approaching us.

“What the hell?” exclaimed Lister, from within the cabin.

The fog had engulfed the entire ship. We could see nothing beyond the bow.

“I think we should get back inside,” Nichols said, and we didn’t need to be told twice.

Nervousness and boredom had grown in equal amounts over the hour we had been trapped in here.

Condensation collected on the window and slowly worked its way down the window, and Miller had drawn a crude smiley face on it. The cabin was cramped, and claustrophobic considering the amount of people in it. Nichols had forbade anyone from exiting the cabin.

Hollis said it suddenly, in the middle of an awkward silence that had composed most of our time in here.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Fuck it, I’m going out,” he said, getting to his feet.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Nichols intercepted him at the door.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“You’re going nowhere. We stay here until the fog clears.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“I’m going out.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“No, you’re not.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Get the hell out of my way.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“You’re staying here.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Hollis gave Nichols a light shove to clear the door, and Nichols returned a hard one.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Miller moved forward, and would have had a hard time keeping them apart, but there was no need.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The boat shuddered violently, and both men fell to the ground, Miller barely keeping her footing, as the four of us gripped onto something; Carson onto the handle you were actually supposed to use, Yates onto a cupboard, Lister onto the wheel, and myself onto Lister. The shudder was accompanied by a screech of metal and rock. It lasted for a few seconds, and after it everything was deathly silent.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Fuck.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I never caught who said it, but they were probably speaking for all of us.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Lister slid the door open, revealing the island. A small, marsh-like beach stretched off, where it was obscured by some dense forest. The sea battered violently against the jagged rocks that guarded it.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Fucking hell, great plan. Keep everyone locked up and then don’t fucking bother to steer us at all,” Hollis said to Nichols.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">His only reply was, “Shut it.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Lister and I jumped down into the shallow tide, water flooding our shoes. The torrential rain didn’t help.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Jesus,” said Yates behind us, at the sight of the rock that had embedded itself deep into the hull. We wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Now what?” asked Carson, just as Miller and Nichols emerged from the cabin.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He never got an answer.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The seven of us stood in the marshy sand, the moon’s light vaguely identifiable through the clouds.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">After a few seconds, Nichols began to bark orders.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Right, Lister, go get the flares,” he said, motioning back to the boat. “Hollis, get on the radio, raise anyone you can. Yates, get trying to fix the damage to the ship. Miller, make count of our food stock, try and make something nice. Danvers, Carson, we’re gonna explore the island, see if there’s any life here. Come on.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">We pretty much knew we’d find nothing, but we were here and it was worth looking. Miller, Lister, Yates and Hollis would stay on the boat; Lister and Miller because we didn’t know them (They had taken a single voyage purely because they would get dropped off in the UK at the end of it),Hollis because nobody could stand listening to him, and Yates as he was the engineer.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">We left to Yates' tools banging away at the boat, and Hollis repeating, "This is Victor November Tango to any nearby ships, we have beached and are requesting assistance. This is Victor November..."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The forest was thick, and the floor littered with pine needles and sand-filled soil. Carson lead, cutting away branches with a machete. I carried the torch, shining the path up ahead, while Nichols stood behind us, carrying his revolver. When he first brought it onboard, Carson had asked why he needed it.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He simply responded with, “The gun is good, and you’re evil.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Through the forest, I spied beige among the green.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“What the hell’s that?” I shouted as I stopped, causing Nichols to walk straight into me.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“What?” shouted Carson.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I didn’t answer, and instead ran to whatever it was.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">If I hadn’t... well, it wouldn’t make a difference. Noticing that temple was the only hope, really, and I blew it.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The temple was tall, maybe twenty meters tall, but still covered by the trees. Steps lead up into its main entrance, with hundreds of symbols and pictures engraved into its sides.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“What the bloody hell?” said Carson.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Jesus, it’s like some Aztec temple or something,” Nichols said.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“So why’s it in the middle of the North Atlantic?” Carson enquired.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Well, come on,” I said, running up the steps. “Let’s find out what’s in this thing.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The Temple’s innards were covered in decaying moss and lichens. Pieces of rock and rubble littered the cramped corridor that the three of us walked down, my torch the only source of light. More pictures of god-knows-what covered the walls. If I had only paid attention to them then.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“This is big,” Nichols said. “Like, really big.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“That’s what she said,” Carson muttered, but Nichols ignored him.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Carson, go outside, radio the others, tell ‘em to get over here. If this is another society, then we’re gonna be dead rich.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Hmm, not really. If someone other than you discovered some old temple, would you actually care-“

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Just go and get them.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Carson left without another comment.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Look at these pictures,” I said, shining the torch over to them. “What even is that?”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The picture on the wall was of some grotesque black creature with arms darting out from it, consuming some crude stick figure about half its height. Next to it, a few dead bodies with some ancient text indecipherable to me.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Huh, what d’ya think it means?” Nichols asked.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Dunno, let me just check my Undiscovered civilianizationish-English dictionary.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Alright, alright, only asking.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Nichols turned towards our entrance, and shouted, "Carson, you finished radioing them yet?" There was no reply. We looked at each other for a second, before we both shouted his name again. Still silence.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Oh shit," Nichols muttered, before following it with a, "CARSON!"'

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">We sprinted out of the temple. Nothing. There was no sign Carson had ever been here.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">David Carson was gone.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Nichols radioed the others shortly after, and the six of us gathered around the temple’s base.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"This is your fucking fault," Hollis shouted angrily into Nichols' face. Miller was resting on the temple's steps with her head in her hands. Yates was looking at the temple's markings, and Lister was just staring off into nothingness.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I was still finding it hard to believe that Carson was dead. Hell, it wasn't like we had found his body or anything, so I pushed it out of my mind and went to help Miller break up yet another argument.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"You fucking killed him!" "Listen to me. LISTEN TO ME! Hollis, you will shut the fuck up right now or I WILL kill you!" Nichols shouted, his hand slowly grabbing for his gun.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"This isn't helping anyone!" Miller said, but both of them ignored her.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Nichols struck first. His fist connected with Hollis' jaw, and Hollis stumbled backwards, clutching his face.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He raised his fist for a second punch, but Yates got there first and tackled him to the ground, faceplanting a rock.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Miller and I ran over to Hollis, and I made sure to stand between the two men. Yates and Lister had Nichols secured, Yates kneeling on his back.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Right," said Hollis, a large bruise on his chin. "Nichols is clearly unfit for duty. I am assuming control. Yates, the Venture nearly fixed?"

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I noticed how Hollis quickly changed the subject from his leaderships, but nobody else really wanted to be in charge of a crew that was a man down, had two of its members fighting constantly, and had two with no real experience.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Not yet. Lifeboat's fine, we can be gone in that by the hour." "We do that."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Nichols protested immediately.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"No! We can fix the Venture easily! I can't lose it!"

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">We ignored him. Miller had a good point, however.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Carson's still missing. We can't leave without him."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"What if whatever got him gets us too?" said Yates.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Who said anything did get him? For all we know, he just got lost, maybe hurt."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Who just walks off like that? We never got his message, so he either somehow got lost in about thirty feet, went AWOL for some reason, or something got him."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Where's the body then? Where's the blood? It's either really, really hungry, or-

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Or it's smart." I said it without thinking. My reason told me Miller was right, but some hidden instinct said Yates was correct.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Hollis thought for a moment, and gave his orders. “Someone’s gonna need to go to the boat and prepare to get us out of here.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“I’ll go,” volunteered Yates.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Fine. Miller, Danvers, we'll look around for a bit. Yates, go back to the boat and get ready to take us out of here. Lister, stay here with Nichols. Keep in contact, respond every ten minutes. If you don't, we'll come looking for you. Understood?"

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">We all nodded, except Nichols. Yates had tied his hands up behind his back.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">'What should we do with this?" Lister asked, holding Nichols' revolver.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Hollis grabbed it, and we began to search the forest.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">We split up. Probably not the best idea, but we just wanted to find Carson and go home.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">After ten minutes of basically finding nothing, I heard Hollis radioing in.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"This is Hollis, everybody gimme a sitrep."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"This is Miller, everything's fine."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Lister, going alright."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Danvers, doing good."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">There was a second of silence, and I felt- fear? Unease?- growing in my stomach.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Yates, you alright?”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">No answer.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Goddamn… Danvers, get over to the boat, see if he’s alright.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I replied with, “Not on my own.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“You’re not scared, are ya?”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Look, Carson’s missing because he went off on his own. Now we’ve got Yates not replying, who was also on his own. You really want to get into this debate? Just send Miller over.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Danvers, please can you just go?”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I gave in, and began walking back to the boat.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">In the end, I never needed to. I found Yates on the journey; he was laying face down in a small stream, a small cut on his forehead. Other than that, he was totally unmarked. I ran over to him, but I already knew it was pointless.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Joseph Yates was dead.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Oh Jesus. Oh my god."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">That was all Hollis could manage to get out. Neither Lister nor Miller said anything.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Hollis turned to us, and said, "Right. We're getting the hell off this island. First we're getting Nichols, then we get in the lifeboat and go. If Nichols even opens his fucking mouth, he stays here. I don't know what got Yates and Carson, but I get the feeling if we stay here much longer, we're going to find out."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">When we reached them temple and Nichols, I noticed Lister had gagged him. Nice touch.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Right, you bastard," Hollis shouted into Nichols' face. "We're going to stand you up in a second. Try and run, and I'll blow your head clean off."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He drew the revolver to show he was serious.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Here the hll if Yts?" Nichols said, totally muffled by the gag,

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"He's dead."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Nichols' face turned to sorrow for an instant, before he returned to angry.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Lister, stand him up."

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Lister grabbed him by his hand restraint, and set him upright.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Nichols was quick, and did it all in one fluid movement. I reckon he did it on impulse; maybe he debated himself on escaping, but not on his method.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He kicked Lister in the shin with his heel, before shoulder barging him to the ground. He broke into a sprint,and only then was his lack of foresight apparent; Miller, Lister, and I blocked his path in four directions, and Hollis aimed the revolver...

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The six shots all echoed around the island, all as a single continuous noise.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Nichols was still standing; while I'll never know exactly how many, most shots missed. He sprinted up the temple steps, blood trickling down like a minute waterfall.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The four of us stood there frozen; Hollis looking at his gun with a blank expression, Miller shouting, and Lister righting himself.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I finally snapped out of it, and ran after Nichols, into the darkness of the temple.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Hollis protested, was saying it was pointless and that we should just go, but I ignored him. I don’t know why. I guess I couldn’t just leave him there.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I found him in the far corner of the temple, clutching his leg. His trousers were soaked with blood, his face pale and scared. He never said a word.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He looked over to the engravings behind him, then back towards me.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I was the last thing he ever saw before he collapsed.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">William Nichols was dead.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Reason told me to leave him there and go back to the others (God, there were only four of us), but something told me to look at the engravings.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I understood them.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Something was imprisoned here, under the temple. I knew what it was, and I could never even comprehend what it was. It was everything and nothing. The Alpha and the Omega and everything in between.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">And, on the first midnight after travelers stumbled across this place, it would awaken, and take back the infinite with a human host.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The eternal gaze of the abyss, screeching through their body. Through everybody. Forever.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Unless the travelers were beyond the wall of fog.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">It had, somehow, killed Carson, as Carson had found the engraving. Then, needing to slow our exit, killed Yates. If only one of us was left, it'd win,

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I checked my watch. Twenty minutes until midnight. We had arrived about three hours ago. We wouldn't be able to clear the wall of fog in that time. There was no way out.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Unless we were all dead.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Four lives for the world. Seemed a fair deal.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I drew Nichols' machete, and ran out into the forest.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"He's dead," I said, quickly making my way down the steps.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Hollis and I were now the only survivors of the original crew. This was going to be difficult.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He was quiet. "O-okay. Lister, take this." He tossed Lister the now empty gun. Nichols kept his ammo in his draw in the cabin; that was now about 500 meters away. I could do this.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"Right, let's-"

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">That was all Hollis managed to get out before I jammed the machete into his neck. He stumbled backwards, and looked at me with his eyes- Jesus, those eyes- filled with no anger, no pain, only betrayal.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He collapsed, blood still oozing out onto the grass. He rolled slightly, then lay still.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Theodore Hollis was dead.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">"What the fuck?" Lister shouted, as he ran. Miller remained still, an easy kill-

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">She punched me in the face, and I took a step backward. I hadn't been expecting it, and pain shot through my face. I swung the machete randomly. She punched me in the gut.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I doubled over, and she began to knee me in the face.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I grabbed her leg mid-kick, and flung it upwards. She hit the ground, and before she could recover I drove the machete ahead of me-

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">It hit her just below the ribcage. She spluttered a few final swears, blood coming from her mouth as well as words, before she finally relaxed.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Emma Miller was dead.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Lister broke into a sprint; Miller might have given him a headstart, but not by much.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">That was it. Lister, then myself. I hadn’t really put much thought into offing myself, but there was no turning back now. I had to do it. I had to kill them.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">My legs ached, but I could tell that fatigue was getting to Lister. He stumbled onto the beach, and I was just behind him.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I swung, missing Lister by inches. He screamed with what little energy he had left, and pushed himself onward.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I would have done it. I would have saved everyone, if I didn’t step in a particularly soft patch of sand. Heh. That’s what the fate of the human race came down to.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">My left foot tried to carry on running while the right was stuck, so I lost my balance and landed on my chest, just in time to see Lister vault himself into the Venture.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">No. Not now. Not after all this.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I pushed myself up, wet sand clinging to my body, and made one final push,

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I gripped the side of the boat, and had just managed to get almost all of me on the boat, when my eyes locked with Lister’s.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He was scared, tired. Looking like he wanted nothing more than to finally go home. Death was the only home I could offer him.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">And then I noticed the revolver pointed directly at me.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I don’t think he had ever held a gun in his life; he hadn’t ever been in the Military, they wouldn’t let “his type” in, and he definitely didn’t look like someone who’d ever killed anyone else. Maybe an odd visit to a shooting range now or then, but the point remains; Bennett Lister was not an expert marksman.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">And he got a fucking bullseye. It was never going to be any other way, was it? We’d never win, would we? Because that’s the way it had to happen. Bennett Lister shot Jonathan Danvers in the neck because we can’t have a happy ending.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">It was enough to knock me off balance, and I hit the beach, the tide lapping at my neck, blood mixing with it. My machete sunk into the sand a few meters away.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I tried to move, couldn’t. Lister set the lifeboat into the sea, doing his best to ignore me.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“Lister. LISTER!”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">He finally looked at me, and said softly (it would have been better if he had shouted), “Why’d you do it?”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">“There’s something in that temple, Lister,” I said, coughing up blood. “It’s gonna wake up. It’s gonna take us over. We’ve got ten minutes. Please.”

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">For a single, fleeting second, he believed me. I looked into his eyes, and he believed me.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">And then he walked back into the forest, perhaps to see if the others were alive, perhaps to investigate the temple for himself, perhaps to end his own life. I haven’t heard a gunshot yet, but it could be coming. Please.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">And that’s where we are now. Lister’s probably not going to do it, in which case the world will end, and there’ll be no-one left anyway. I’m sorry, I failed. Five minutes to go. Still, if I can’t save the world, then I can at least save myself. I stabbed the machete straight into my abdomen; blood stained the beach.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">I’m sorry.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">The last thing I ever heard was the scream of Bennett Lister. <ac_metadata title="The Scream of Bennett Lister (Unreviewed)"> </ac_metadata>