Castaway
Apr 6, 2011 13:00:51 GMT -5
Post by Indy on Apr 6, 2011 13:00:51 GMT -5
You're headed home via a stop in LA on an airline from Australia. Unfortunately the plane has been caught in a storm and crashed on a desert island. You and the other passengers must learn to work together and survive the dangers of the island until help arrives...
...We begin after the plane has crashed, already on the island...
...We begin after the plane has crashed, already on the island...
=
Michael awoke with a gasp. His back ached, but it was more than just over 60 pains and aches that came with age. There was a stinging sensation down his lower arm and across his stomach. He took his time, survival training had taught him that much, to take in his surroundings. Bamboo surrounded him. Birds chirped gently. But there was something else. A loud dull humming. Like an engine... And screaming.
He sat up, but could see nothing but green and tan bamboo. So much it was almost like a cage. He leaned against the strong, thin trees, just a few bore his weight as he steadied himself. His head swam. Michael looked down at his chest. His light blue button down was torn and there were long but shallow cuts across the middle of his chest. He checked his right arm. They were deeper and would more than likely need stitching.
Michael shut his eyes for a moment, attempting to piece together what happened. A short excursion to map out his latest travel special. Meeting with the right people and find just the right roads to travel by. And once again mistakenly picking up he phone to run all of it by Helen. She would remind him not to work himself too hard. And to try and spend time with Richard with an open mind. If she were still alive. Richard. Maris. Bloody hell. Hopefully they were still alive.
Michael remembered the turbulence. Richard grabbing Maris' hand in comfort. He was sitting behind them. Richard was in mid sentence when the huge lurch --more than just turbulence-- dislodged the metal briefcase from an overhead bin. Michael jumped then, even biting his tongue in surprise when the case hit Richard in the forehead, knocking him out cold. Blood poured from a steady stream from his head into the aisle.
Maris' scream was cut off by the tail of the plane ripping away. The oxygen masks fell down. Maris was in a panic. He helped Maris put one over Richard's face before doing his own. Michael looked at his left sleeve, drenched in an odd trail of blood. Richard's blood. His own arm was bleeding rather badly. He ripped off his own tattered sleeve, binding it the best he could with one hand before running towards the screams.
Two weeks ago...
Another stop on the Australian radio circuit. Having worked in radio himself, and a new upcoming series to promote, his new manager thought it would be good business to hit some morning radio shows while he was here. Michael would soon regret coming to this one.
"So, Michael, when can we expect wedding bells?"
"I'm sorry?" Jesus, this prick! Helen had only died four months ago!
"Your son."
"Sorry, I--"
"Well, a little birdie told me that you were spotted with your son's boyfriend in a pub near your hotel? This mean the poofter is in good with the old man?"
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't use that sort of language about my-- about him."
"Sorry. Homosexual." The DJ rolled his eyes and grinned towards his producer. Michael noticed not once had the DJ ever more than glanced at him. So much for the 'younger crowd'; his manager could have them for all he cared. "SO you ever go to the gay clubs with your boy?"
"No." Michael looked confused, if not even more offended, looking to the producer for help. The man merely shrugged. "Look--"
"Well, isn't it important for the love and support of his dad?"
"That doesn't mean I go ...clubbing with him. He--"
"What about his boyfriend, then? Do you like him?"
"Look, my wife and I have done our best in the past about maintaining our privacy about our life and our children, so I would rather not answer anymore questions about my kids. Any of them."
"Richard!" Maris screamed, trudging through the sand and wreckage. She thought of taking off her heels, but she'd rather risk a turned ankle than getting it cut off because she stepped on a piece of the plane.
Michael darted out of the tree line and was staggered at the scene that laid before them. The cockpit was missing, but the fuselage of the plane was mostly here, but in huge chunks, and small pieces strewn about. The engines were whirring loudly. That had been the loud hum. There were fires burring in several areas. The tail section was missing entirely. But Michael doubted anyone could have survived if they had been in it.
Michael continued onward, attempting to call people away from the engines, that were sucking in sand and whatever metal was nearby. Maris was yelling, unable to hear him and began to walk close to one. Michael ran to her, grabbing her up and dragging her away. He left several red stains on her pretty yellow dress.
"Michael!" She exclaimed upon seeing him and hugged him fiercely. There were tears streaming down her face still. "I can't find Richard. I can't find him!"
"Calm down," Michael spoke gently, amazed by his own words. "We'll both look for him. We need to help the others as--"
Michael stopped as one of the engines exploded, sending several people flying towards the sand. It was utter chaos. How would they be able to find an unconscious man in all this?
Goodnight you moonlight ladies
Rockabye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colours I choose
Won't you let me go down in my dreams
And rockabye sweet baby James
In his hotel room Michael put down his drink, picking up his cell phone as James Taylor's "Sweet Baby James" chorus played out. James was calling. Oh dear. Had he heard? Or what he just calling to check in?
"G'day, Jamie!" Michael spoke cheerfully, hoping to fool his youngest boy.
James wasn't buying it and from his home in London, glasses were perched on his nose, sitting at his kitchen table. His laptop was open in front of him. "'Michael May doesn't support gay son'?"
Michael couldn't tell if he sounded angry or exasperated at the headline. He picked up his watch. 11pm in Melbourne... 2pm the previous day in London. The radio show aired two days ago. "I refused to answer questions about you. Someone spotted me and Richard in the hotel pub. I told you--"
"How did that go?" James seemed less bothered by the headline, almost curious.
"What?"
"Richard said you haven't been actively seeking him out. But he's not either. He mentioned the drink. He said it went alright."
"Well... it did, I suppose."
"Well?"
"He's... He doesn't like me very much. I don't think."
"Because he doesn't think you do. You promised you'd try..." James sounded disappointed and paused for a moment, then spoke seriously. "I am going to marry him. I would like it if you would at least get along a little."
Michael sighed a little, "I am trying, son, really. And I still think it's a bit soon--"
"Four years is not 'too soon'. Christ, dad, I don't want this discussion again. I just want you two to get along. Libby's bad enough right now..."
"Sarah's sister?"
"She's attempting to take the girls from me. It's complete bollocks, but I've got bloody meetings with lawyers and with Richard gone--"
"I never liked her."
James laughed and that made Michael smile, though tiredly. What a bitch that Libby was. Poor James.
"Me neither. I don't know how she and Sarah were related. She won't win, dad, I'm not worried about that. It's just having to sit there and listen to the hate spilling from her and her lawyer. It's disgusting."
Michael paused, thinking back on his own arguments with James in the past, "You know, Jamie, I never mean to hurt you with ...whatever I say. It's still difficult for me, even now."
"Dad, you're trying. That's good enough." He could hear the smile behind James' voice. "I really do love him."
"Michael!!" Maris shouted over the cries and screams of the other passengers. The second engine had blown after sucking a stewardess into it. Michael followed her voice as best he could, eventually finding her towards the waterline. She had taken off her heels now, attempting to haul Richard from the water. They were both soaking wet. Michael grabbed the man's feet, helping Maris and brought him to shore.
Maris took the pink scarf around her head and tied it around Richard's purpling cut half on his forehead, half behind brown hair before breaking down and sobbing into his chest. Michael looked out to the ocean, watching passengers rescuing more that were in the water, or dragging in dead bodies. He was never a strong swimmer and felt faint now. He'd only drown himself if he tried helping them. He put his good arm around Maris instead to comfort her.