three days // j. conrad

Still shaken from the horrible encounter, Wren spun and quickly began to make her way back to the crash site, far, far away from this cursed valley.
With no one to look out for but herself, it took her half the time it did for the four of them to cross the same distance.

Wren hid out in the downed helicopter for as long as she could, building a makeshift extension on it so she'd have more space.
The only reason she left was because she ran out of water. She grabbed her gun and three water skins, before stepping into the tree line, already farther than she'd been in days. She quickly found a drinkable body of water, a river that fed north into a marsh-like area. It was still, nothing disturbing the water or the silence around it.
Suddenly, something under the water moved,. A large, hulking beast that looked like a huge water buffalo emerged from the water and slowly made it's way over to the edge where Wren was standing, now frozen, her feet rooted in place.
It had moss hanging from it's antlers and bugs buzzing around it as it watched her, her only movement being her breathing.
Eventually, it seemed to lose interest and sank back into the water. She sighed and briskly made her way back to her "house", gun in hand.
The next morning, she woke up with a strange desire to go back to that marsh and find another creature.
If she was to be stuck on this island, she figured she might as well learn about the ecosystem and how things worked.
The next day, she worked up enough courage to go north past the marsh and found herself in another forest. Her guard was high as she moved stealthily across the forest floor, keeping her ears and eyes open.
Wren soon came upon some overgrown ruins, painted in some areas with fading, weird symbols. She slowed her pace even further, listening for anything and scanning the area. She couldn't deny that is was beautiful, but there was also something unsettling about it.  Like she wasn't alone.
There was a near-inaudible rustle from the forest behind her and she whipped around to see two people clad in earth tones emerging with rustic spears pointed at her. Their skin was decorated with symbols not unlike those on the rubble. Spinning in her spot, she saw that she was surrounded now by people with spears.
"Hey," she started, lowering her gun slightly, "you don't need to do that, I'm just looking around, I'll leave."
They made no move to suggest that they had heard her.
"Hello?"
This time, they stepped closer.
"They, uh, don't talk much." Wren's head snapped up at the sound of another voice coming from her left. "I guess you don't have an actual way out of here?"
"Who are these people? Who are you?" She demanded.
"Whoops, sorry." He saluted her. "Lieutenant Hank Marlow of the 45th."
"Did you crash here too?"
"I've been here 22 years, miss, me and Gunpei. Well, it's just me now. I'll tell you, it's great to see another person from my world out here, but you should never have come."
Wren huffed a dry laugh. "Don't I know it."
"You can put those down," he told the others, "come on now."
Wren relaxed a bit when they stepped back, spears no longer pointed at her. Marlow motioned for her to follow him.
"We should get home," he told her. "Don't want to be out here at night."

The group soon arrived at a large, wooden wall.
"Is this supposed to keep those things out?" Wren asked.
"Some of them," Marlow responded.
There were more people like the ones from the forest inside the village, and two with blue markings instead of yellow came up to Marlow. The three held prolonged eye contact and soon bowed their heads.
"What was that?" Wren asked.
"They say you can stay here."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Follow me." He led her through the village. "This is a peaceful place. There isn't crime or personal property, they share everything and live harmoniously with the land."
Wren looked on with a smile and Hank took her to a giant ship that was basically torn apart. It's hull was littered with holes and overgrown with vines and foliage.
"This is the Wanderer. I think it washed up just over thirty years ago, now it's hallowed ground. So try not to touch anything."
As she ducked in after him, they entered the main part, which was lit by torches and sunlight filtering through the holes overhead. Her jaw dropped open at its beauty. As she moved through the room, she noticed that the paint on the groups of rocks formed pictures when viewed from a certain angle.
"According to the Iwis," Hank explained, "the people were scared of everything on this island for a hell of a long time, until Kong's family came forward and started protecting them against the creatures that were eating them."
"Is that Kong?" She motioned to a picture of the giant ape that had saved her life. He nodded solemnly. She pointed at the creatures that had nearly killed her. "And what are those?"
"The Iwis won't tell me what they're called. I call them skull crawlers."
"Okay, uh," she nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, alright."
"It kind of sounds stupid now that I'm saying it aloud. You can call them what you like."
"No, skull crawlers is good," she stammered. "Ominous, kind of."
"Anyway, yeah. Kong can take care of them as long as he gets them when they're young and small. The Big One lives below. It wiped out Kong's parents, so he's the last one left. We'd better hope he stays though, cause the Iwis say that when Kong goes, the Big One comes up and then that's it. We're all dead."
Wren's eyes were wide as she listened, enraptured.
"This is where they honour him. He's king here, to them he's God. This is his home, we're just visiting."