Shadow Stalker

Chapter One: Dustin

The boat rocked and pitched in the ocean as choppy waves continuously hammered against its wooden sides without end, making the young man sitting, groaning and gasping in his chair, clutch his stomach with a nauseated expression. If he had known the trip was going to be this rough he probably wouldn't have decided to go, but it was too late to back out now, he was more than 50,000 kilometers away from his home in London England, and in the middle of the North Atlantic to boot.

"Oy; Land-lover-boy." A hand gently slapped the sea-sick young man's cheek, rousing him from his tormented state. He looked up wearily into the scruffy, prominent chinned deckhand's face, who grinned down at him with yellow teeth, before taking a long suck on a lime wedge. "First time sailing eh? Nothing better to get the innards' stirred up than a bumpy ride!"

"Please...do you have anything to–" He burped "–help with this dreaded seasickness?"

"Well, I always say a little rum does the trick!" The deckhand said with a grin, holding out a bottle.

"Ah, no, no I'm afraid that would do no good for me at all." The young man refused quickly, his stomach beginning to pitch even more from the strong alcoholic smell emanating from the bottle.

"What's that? A man that refuses the gesture of a drink! Unheard of!" The Sailor cried in outrage.

"Oh, no, please, I didn't mean to be rude, but I could never stomach alcohol – it doesn't agree with me."

The Sailor stared at him with a hanging jaw. "Don't drink!? What kind of a sissy little pansy are you? A man who doesn't drink isn't a man at all!"

"Well, excuse me, sir, but I am Dustin Claudius Woodrow, a photographer for a biological research excursion. I'm here merely to meet with the research team in Brazil; now if you are quite done insulting me, would you be so kind as to imply some help for this bloody bother of a sickness, or leave me be!"

The Sailor raised his hands. "Calm down Land-Lover-boy, you don't have to get all ruffled." He took a swig from his rum bottle, and then sucked on his lime wedge. "Other than the rum, don't know any other ways to cure seasickness..." He scratched his chin in thought for a moment, and then he looked at Dustin with a mischievous smirk. "Well boy, the only other way to get over the sickness is for it to get over you! I can tell you a story – an old sea tale."

"Please...anything to distract me from this state I'm in..."

The Sailor sat beside the young man in his chair, taking another swig of rum and wiping his dripping mouth on his sleeve before he spoke. "There is an island somewhere in the North Atlantic, one that most say don't exist, but it does. It be a ghost island, and it only appears when storms wreck ships and leave souls stranded –it's called Bone Island."

"Why would such a place be called a grotesque name as Bone Island?" Dustin asked curiously.

"Folk say there was a ship – much like this one – carrying people across the North Atlantic." The Sailor began. "A wicked storm blew her off course and into the rocks –only a few souls survived the disaster, and ended up on the ghost island. They were stranded there for days and days on end, with no sign of rescue and little to eat and nothing to drink –it's enough to make even the toughest man cry out to God."

"So what happened?" Dustin asked.

The Sailor licked his yellow teeth. "The once civil men became monsters, but the most terrible monster of them all was no more than a mere child. This child survived by killing and then eating every single survivor."