Page 129 of Hunted
Epilogue Darla
“Is that it?” I ask as a dark speck rises in the distance.
“Yep! That’s it!” Reece yells over the loud noise of the helicopter blades.
I watch in silence as the land gets bigger and bigger in front of us. It’s been two years since we were rescued from this island and my body shivers with a strange mix of excitement and fear.
This place holds fifteen years’ worth of memories for me. Most of them were bad, but some of them were good. I might even say some of those memories were great. My eyes flick to my four guys sitting around me, their eyes all fixed on the growing piece of land on the horizon.
Nobody says a word as we get closer and closer. Soon I’m able to make out the beach. Even from up here I recognize it. I spent half my life there, after all.
The large pile of wood the guys had built is still there, although a lot more scattered now, like the wind has knocked it around in the two years we’ve been gone. I half expect to see a dead body lying around, but Reece already told me he’d taken care of it.
The helicopter gently sets down on the sand, and the engine switches off. The sounds of the chopper slowly die down as the familiar sound of the jungle and ocean start to grow louder.
The guys climb out and look around, but I stay rooted to my seat, my fingers digging into the leather underneath me.
“Darla?” I glance up as Reece steps into the open doorway. “Are you okay, darling?”
I shake my head quickly. “I-I can’t do it.”
When they had brought up the idea of coming back to the island and visiting Mo-Mo, I had been mostly excited. But now I’m here, I’m filled with fear. The memories of so much time spent alone are outweighing everything else. Being here brings back the feelings I associate with living here on my own for so long: fear, loss, loneliness.
I jump when something touches my face. Reece kneels in front of me, trying to get me to focus on him. I didn’t even realize I had tuned him out.
“Darla? I asked if you trust me?” I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. I might be slightly terrified right now, but I do trust him.
He unbuckles my seat belt and grabs my hands, pulling me to the edge of the chopper, then he jumps back down to the sand, reaches out and scoops me into his arms.
I cling to his neck as I scan our surroundings. He carries me away from the chopper and towards the large wood pile. “Do you want to go see your old home?” I think about it for a moment, then nod.
“Yeah, I can walk now.” He gently places me on my feet, and I stare down at my shoes. I’ve gotten much more used to shoes over the pasttwo years, but standing in the sand in them is not something I even do at home. It’s even weirder here.
Someone grabs my hand, and I squeeze it tight, not even needing to know who it is. I glance up anyway and Weston smiles down at me. Someone grabs my other hand, and I find Bower on my other side.
They gently nudge me forward and the three of us slowly walk down the path I’ve used a thousand times before. A weird sense of nostalgia hits me. The path has overgrown a lot since I was last here. Clearly there’s been nobody using it to keep the jungle from encroaching in.
I’m not sure where Kingsley and Reece are, but they don’t follow us. When we turn down the path towards the treehouses, my heart starts beating quicker as nervousness fills me. I don’t know what I’m expecting to see. It’s almost like I’m starting to wonder if the whole thing even happened. This place was a huge part of my life, but in some ways, it feels like it happened to a different person, like I saw it in a movie and didn't actually live it myself.
When the clearing comes into view, I suck in a sharp breath of surprise.It’s still here.Although the whole area looks different now, almost like it was abandoned by some natives a long time ago. That thought makes me smile. I guess I was the native.
The jungle has pushed into the clearing, and vines wrap around the ladder and my old home. The most surprising part is the original hut, the one I started with my dad, is now laying on the ground in a crumbled mess. It clearly fell at some point in the past two years, and I’m glad I wasn’t here to witness it.
I release their hands, feeling braver now I’m here, and move over to the pile on the ground. I see the remains of some of my early projects. The back of a chair here, the terrible attempt at a bag over there. It all remindsme of the person I used to be. Not Zee, the warrior that the guys first met when they arrived. But the old Darla, the thirteen-year-old who was just trying to survive.
“There’s so much stuff here,” Bower comments as he steps up to the pile and starts looking around.
“I spent years making this stuff, perfecting my techniques,” I tell them as we all wander around the pile.
“Is there anything you want to take with us?” Weston asks, his eyes scanning the pile.
I shake my head, knowing there is nothing in the hut I want to remember.
Weston bends down and picks up a small piece of furniture I don’t recognize, until he turns it on its side. I inhale sharply, taking a step back as my stomach churns, as if remembering the pain.
“Oh shit, that’s a—” Bower cuts himself off, his worried eyes flicking to mine.
“A crib,” Weston finishes for him, before gently placing it back on the pile as the two of them move back over to me. He takes my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay, Darla?”
