Marcus Caravahlo (_caravahlo_) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-08-24 19:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, cycle003, incomplete, marcus, serena |
Who: Serena and Marcus and OPEN
When: Around 6:20pm, Saturday June 8th, when the helicopter flies overhead.
Where: Presumably near the signal fire/tentfirmary.
What: Noticing the helicopter.
Warning: None.
The helicopter whirred overhead, wings cutting through the air like hot knives through butter, and Serena looked up, shouted, waving her arms in the air. She knew it was stupid; the helicopter would see them, their big signal fire and everything else, long before it would see a dark-haired girl flailing her arms like an injured windmill, but it was instinct. She would flag it down, it would land--- or maybe drop one of those rope ladders you saw on stuff like Baywatch reruns. She didn't know what they'd do. Maybe radio the Coast Guard, have the Guard send a boat big enough for them to get on, tow them to the nearest island? Somewhere in that list of things they'd get picked up and a fresh change of clothes, a hot meal, fresh cool drinks, and plane tickets home courtesy of the cruise line that had fucked them all and killed everyone else.
Serena was still waving her arms when she saw the copter bank left and start curving away from their fire. It was making a perimeter check, but that didn't make sense. They were right here, what else did the helicopter need to see? Unless another boat had washed up on the other side of the island, or something else, and this was bigger than a simple rescue-the-one-lifeboat situation. Maybe they were circling to assess the damage.
Serena exhaled, watching the skies with dark eyes, and after awhile the helicopter began to elevate even higher. It was definitely leaving, and no one had dropped a rope or gotten on a bullhorn to shout about staying calm or anything she'd ever seen in a movie. They were leaving without a sense of purpose, no let's-get-the-fuck-out-of-here-so-we-can-bring-back-help-for-these-people happening here. They were just... leaving.
Serena collapsed back onto the sand, sitting down hard enough to make her tailbone smart, and she cupped her face in her hands and spoke into her palms. She knew there were people around her, people within earshot, but she didn't care.
"They saw us. They had to have seen us."
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"Huge orange boat, silver SOS, big fucking fire..." Marcus was holding a bucket of water that had just been boiled over said fire, but his narrowed eyes were still on the sky. He hadn't dropped what he was doing to wave his arms at the helicopter, but that was only because he'd assumed it would see them. "Hard to fucking miss. What the fuck would they leave for?"
Like Serena, his mind was churning, trying to come up with reasons for the helicopter to veer away. Perfectly logical explanations. But Marcus knew a thing or two about rescue procedures. He was pretty fucking certain that the helicopter should have established contact. Stuck around until a rescue boat arrived, or send someone down to assess their injured parties. Rob must have told them there were injuries. Marcus had two people who should be resting in a fucking a hospital, and if they stayed on the island too much longer that number was bound to grow. People could survive on protein bars and stale water for a time, but eventually heatstroke, dehydration, and malnutrition was going to catch up to them.
Not to mention the stupid fuckers who were likely to get themselves poisoned or injured exploring the island. People were already gathering food and shit, but Marcus sure as hell wasn't putting anything in his mouth unless he recognized it. Unlike Jon, he'd never been a fucking boyscout, so his knowledge of poisonous plants was limited.
"They'll come back," he declared, more to himself than Serena. "Got to."
Something was telling him that wasn't true, though. That nothing was certain. The helicopter shouldn't have left in the first place.