Axel stepped out of the bushes, brushing a few leaves off his shirt.
Nate exhaled sharply, relief washing over him. If Axel hadn't appeared at that exact mont, he would have scread at the top of his lungs. But now, with Axel standing there, Nate's breath hitched as the boy turned toward him, his expression sour.
"What is it, freak?" Axel snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. "Why the fuck are you looking at like that?"
"N-nothing," Nate stamred, his words tumbling over each other. "It's Jace. He's been looking for you."
Axel harrumphed, his lip curling in irritation. "Hmph." Without another word, he turned and stalked off, leaving Nate trembling and drenched in sweat.
As Axel's figure disappeared into the crowd, Nate slumped back against the tree, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He hit the ground beside him with his fist.
"What is wrong with ?" he whispered harshly to himself. "He didn't even touch . Why the fuck did I freak out?"
His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw to stop himself from breaking further. He was tired of it—tired of being scared of everyone and everything. It was always the sa. No matter how many tis he tried to fight it, to control the fear, it always clawed its way back in.
Exhaustion finally won out. He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, his head leaning awkwardly against the tree. By the ti his eyes fluttered open, the morning light was spilling over the island, casting long shadows across the wreckage.
Blurry voices broke through the grogginess in his mind. Nate rubbed at his eyes and saw the young army man standing at the center of the clearing again. The survivors were beginning to gather around him, a quiet respect hanging in the air. Even without being officially chosen, the group had naturally begun to look up to him as their leader.
"Alright, everyone," the man said firmly, his deep voice cutting through the morning hum. "It's clear rescue isn't coming anyti soon. Maybe they ran into challenges, or maybe they just haven't found us yet. But that doesn't an we stop believing. Help will co."
A murmur of agreent rippled through the crowd, but the man's tone remained serious.
"That said, we can't just sit here and wait for them. If we do nothing, we'll die of thirst, hunger… or worse." He paused to let the words settle in. "Right now, food isn't our top priority. People are sick, injured, and exhausted. They need rest. We need to act fast."
His gaze swept over the crowd. "Is there a doctor here? Anyone with dical experience?"
After a few seconds, three people stepped forward—a middle-aged man with glasses, a younger man in a dirt-streaked hoodie, and a woman with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.
"Good," the army man said, nodding. "We'll need a d bay. Temporary, for now. I need volunteers to help build a shelter for them—sothing to keep the injured safe."
Several hands shot up, and groups quickly broke off to start gathering materials. The clearing filled with the sounds of people talking, moving, and organizing.
He didn't stop there. "The rest of you," he continued, "will work on finding food. Berries, plants, anything we can safely eat. But do not eat anything unless we've confird it's safe. Clear?"
The crowd nodded again, more focused now. The man turned to begin delegating, but then sothing unexpected happened.
In the midst of the chatter, a small, shaky voice cut through.
"I… I want to help."
Silence fell.
Heads turned, and Nate suddenly found himself under the weight of everyone's stares. He had crawled to the front, his hands gripping the dirt as he looked up at the army man, trying not to tremble.
The man's sharp eyes landed on Nate, studying him. After a pause, he gave a small nod.
"What's your na?" the man asked calmly.
"N-Nate," he stamred.
"Alright, Nate," the man said. "My na is Ryder. If you want to help, I'll find sothing for you."
Nate froze as Ryder gave him a small nod.
"You want to help?" Ryder asked, his tone even but curious.
Nate nodded quickly. "Y-yeah. I do."
To Nate's surprise, Ryder didn't reject him or laugh like others would have. Instead, Ryder said, "Alright. But first, I need to know—what happened to your leg?"
Nate hesitated, his voice faltering slightly. "It… it happened during the plane crash. I woke up strapped to my seat, and I couldn't feel anything below my waist."
Ryder frowned, his expression thoughtful. "You can't walk, but you still crawled out here. That's more strength than you give yourself credit for, kid." He gestured toward the three doctors standing nearby. "But before you do anything, we need to get you checked out. You could have injuries you don't even know about."
"I'm fine," Nate started to protest, but Ryder's firm stare silenced him.
"Checked first. Then we talk about helping."
Nate sighed in resignation as the three doctors stepped forward. The older man with glasses spoke first. "Let's get him back to the plane. It's the most secure place we've got for now."
The group worked together to carefully lift Nate and carry him back into the wreckage. They set him down inside what remained of the cabin. The sll of smoke and burned tal lingered in the air, but it was quieter here, away from the chaos outside.
"Let's start with your leg," one of the doctors said, kneeling beside him. They carefully examined Nate, feeling along his unresponsive limbs.
"There's nothing wrong here," the younger doctor muttered after a mont, confused. "No swelling, no breaks…"
The woman frowned, exchanging looks with the others. "That doesn't make any sense."
The older doctor gently raised Nate's tattered shirt, and all three doctors froze.
The sight before them left them speechless.
Nate noticed the way their expressions shifted—from confusion to alarm. Tension hung in the air like a thick fog. His heart raced as his voice cracked. "What? What's wrong?"
The older doctor swallowed hard. "Nate… your spinal cord… it's…"
"What about it?" Nate asked, his anxiety spiking.
The younger doctor finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's broken. Completely severed."
"Severed?" Nate repeated, his brain struggling to comprehend.
The woman added softly, as if in disbelief, "And… it's sticking out, as if your spine burst through the tissue."
Nate's breathing hitched. "But… I don't get it. I can still move—"
"You shouldn't be breathing," the older doctor interrupted, his tone filled with a strange mix of awe and dread. "Forget crawling. With an injury like this, you shouldn't even be alive."
The three doctors shared uneasy glances, their professional calm starting to crack. Then the younger doctor, still kneeling by Nate, leaned closer to inspect the wound. His face paled as his eyes widened.
"You guys are going to want to see this," he murmured, his voice shaking slightly.
The others leaned in to look. For a long mont, they said nothing, their faces mirroring the sa disbelief.
"This…" the woman started, her voi
ce trailing off.
"This is impossible," the older doctor finally said, his voice filled with quiet horror.
****
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