The Cry of The Island

Chapter Seven

A Sight from Darkness.

The blonde curly haired boy had placed Rocky's body in a flowery area in the jungle, tucked down under a platform so that Tommy couldn't ever find it. Hendrix and Kiwi held back their tears as they looked down at Rocky, Kiwi seeming more filled with anger than anything. Atticus had put leaves and flowers over his body, and vines over the gap to see into where his body was laying. This was to ensure protection and safety. Atticus had spent days just sitting around by it, grieving and mourning as he spun flowers in his palms. He hoped this would cheer him up in some way, but he knew that it was no use.

     Atticus wouldn't work on the hut for a good few days, he didn't have the strength to do so. Atticus remained unmistakeably Atticus. He came now out of the coconut trees, limping, mud over his body, with dead leaves hanging from his shock of curly blonde hair. Atticus paused for a moment, and sat down on the mud where Kiwi and Hendrix spoke in quiet. He muttered to himself.

"What was that?"

Kiwi asked.

"Rocky."

Kiwi said nothing but nodded, solemnly. They continued to sit, gazing with impaired sight at the glittering lagoon. The green light and the glossy patches of sunshine played over their worn out bodies.

"How's your wound?"

Hendrix sat next to him.

"Hurts."

Atticus tried to make light of it.

"Atticus. You saw Phoenix?"

Hendrix asked, scratching his head.

Atticus nodded.

"Smacked his head into a rock, Hendrix. I'm sorry."

Atticus looked solemn.

"It's okay, I understand. He would have killed you, or just left you as good as dead for Tommy."

Hendrix reassured Atticus.

"Murder."

Atticus muttered.

"What?"

Hendrix asked.

"Rocky. That was murder!"

"Stop thinking about it!" Said Kiwi, shrilly. "You won't do yourself any good thinking like that."

He jumped to his feet and stood over Atticus.

"It was him, and his bloody camp. You said that there was sprinting and chanting. You were scared!"

"I wasn't scared." Spoke Atticus slowly. "I was, I don't know what I was."

"You were scared!" Said Hendrix excitedly. "Anything might have happened."

"Look, Atty. We got to forget this. We can't do no good thinking about it, see?"

Hendrix wrapped his arm over Atticus' neck.

"I'm frightened. Of us. I want to go home. O God I want to go home."

When Ledger came to the neck of land that joined the seemingly endless landscape of flat pieces of rock that joined Tommy's camp to the mainland, he was not surprised to be challenged. He had reckoned, during the sprint of a wailing chant, on finding a member of Atticus' camp protesting on the horrors of the island in the safest place.

Phoenix's voice rang out sharply from the flat rock, as Ledger stood in the end of the pathway being sheltered by the overhanging trees. The crags in the flat pieces of rock were still accompanied by the stamped in spears.