Survival Of The Fittest

Jacob paused for a bit, looking up at Greg with surprise. He'd heard well enough what had happened to Kiera, and who'd been behind it. When combined with the goat story it was clear Greg had had a rough couple days. Which made it all the more embarrassing when Greg asked for how Jacob had been handling things.

"... shit, dude. I've just been getting high for most of the past couple days."

He reached up for a handhold fairly near the edge. The outcropping his right foot rested on broke off out from under him, leaving him suddenly dangling from a single hand.

"SHIT!" He screamed, voice shrill with terror. "SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK SHIT!"

His other hand managed to grab the same little outcropping, but that wasn't enough. His legs flailed wildly, boots scraping against the mountainside in a fruitless search for any kind of purchase on the rock. There was no clearing that last little gap between him and safety on his own anymore.

Oh frick, oh frick, oh frick, oh no, Greg was specifically hoping this wouldn't happen, frick, frick frick frick-

- he could run. He could run. He could just run away and let Jacob fall. He'd get away with it.

But that would be kind of messed up.

So...

He was gonna have to be brave.

He scuttled to the very edge of the cliff. His arms weren't gonna be long enough to reach Jacob from here without his center of gravity getting sent over the edge. Thinking quickly, he lowered his legs down off the edge and dangled the left in Jacob's direction, propping himself up with his hands grasping the rock's edge.

"Grab my leg!"

Jacob did as he was told, panicking too much to challenge the notion. His arms strained with effort as he pulled himself up to the cliff's edge, all the while terrified him doing so would just drag the other boy down and send them both into the abyss.

Fortunately, it was enough. Jacob hastily clambered over the edge and rolled away from it. He ended up on his back, looking up at the sky once again. He lay there like that, hyperventilating and trembling with tremendous fury.

There was a brief moment there where Greg felt like his wrists were going to buckle under Jacob's weight and send them both to their doom, but luckily that didn't happen! Phew. Once Jacob lurched his way up out of danger, Greg lifted himself back up and flopped backwards onto the ground.

He, uh... he honestly hadn't really expected any of that to go that well. There was this, this, uh, this shaky, kind of nauseous feeling coursing through his entire body. His eyes were watering, or maybe he'd started crying. He wasn't really sure which, he couldn't tell.

He just laid there on the ground for a little while, until his hands had stopped shaking and he'd regained enough control over his lungs to breathe normally again.

His voice bubbled through the silence.

"We made it."

Jacob's breathing hitched. His hands went to his mouth. Tears swelled in his eyes, before sliding down his face and falling into the dirt.

He'd made it.

He'd made it, but he was still here. He'd still just brushed with death, saved only by the lucky happenstance that Greg had arrived when he did and been willing to help. He'd still just been forced to truly confront their grim circumstances for the first time. He was still on this island, still on SOTF. He'd made it, but he was now more aware then ever that he was still, eventually, going to die here.

He turned over on his side, curling in on himself, as if he could disappear by doing so. A sob leapt out from his chest, escaping before he could force it back in. Then another, then another...

Soon he was freely wailing, a hysterical and primal sound on the verge of screaming. Everything held back since he first woken up, cascading forward at one in a way he couldn't stop anymore. His hands covered his entire face, humiliated at this freakout. It didn't matter it was only Greg; losing it like this in front of anyone was bad enough.

But now that he'd started, he could hardly stop. So the breakdown continued, unabated by any such shame.

Aw jeez, Jacob was really, really crying wasn't he?

Greg slowly sat up, brushing some errant ice off the back of his outermost windbreaker. He sidled over to Jacob.

Yeah, he didn't look like he was doing too great. Poor guy....

Greg... uh, wasn't really sure how to comfort him. But he guessed he should probably give it his best shot. He couldn't really give him a proper pat on the back with him in this position, but... maybe a pat on the shoulder would work? Probably.

Greg gave Jacob's shoulder two silent, firm pats. After the second, he let his hand remain on Jacob's shoulder, just to make sure the boy knew he was still there for him.

The boy's touch helped. It didn't make the crying stop; that was a ship that'd already sailed, and it wasn't ready to return to port. But perhaps it helped him feel less embarrassed at the outburst, less ashamed of his fear. More importantly, it made him feel less alone.

He laid like that, Greg's hand on his shoulder, for what felt like ages; in truth, it was probably only a minute or so. Eventually, his miserable wailing quieted into a small, choked whimper. The tears failed to flow anymore, as if the well had run dry. What had rushed forth like a torrential flood was looking more like a creek. He couldn't really bring himself to rise just yet, but he did manage just a couple words, for Greg's sake rather than his own.

"Thank you."

"Hey, no problem. No problem." Greg said, giving Jacob another pat on the back.

He inhaled deeply through his nose and wiped some still-drying goat saliva off the side of his face with the back of his hand.

He was... he was just happy he'd been able to help. He was happy he'd finally been able to make a difference; to have saved someone's life, at least for a moment.

"We should, uh, we should find shelter before it gets dark."

Again, the guy from last night itched in the back of his mind. If he was still alive in a ravine somewhere, Greg and Jacob getting off of the mountain was basically going to be tantamount to them leaving him to die. But... if they tried looking for him, they were probably going to die. So he was either dead or probably going to die no matter what Greg tried to do. The only lives Greg was in any position to save here were Jacob's and his own. That was what he was telling himself. It seemed correct, but still, it wasn't something he felt good about.

"Whenever you think you're ready."

"Mmm..."

Jacob sat up, removing his sunglasses and wiping at his eyes with the back of his other hand. His breathing was rough and he was still shaking, but compared to before he was positively chipper and stable.

"I think I-I'm good to go now."

He put the sunglasses back over his eyes, masking their newfound puffiness. Something seemed to dawn on him suddenly.

"Mind if we look for my shit first? I'm kinda hoping the bag I dropped's somewhere on the path still. It had some very important shit in it."

'Important shit' meaning 'unhealthy coping mechanism' meaning 'kinda mid weed'. But Greg didn't need to know that right away.

"Uh, ahahaha... sure. As, uh, as long as we don't take too long. If we don't find it in, uh... twenty minutes, then probably we should give up."

He crunched his way over to a set of overlapping goat tracks in the snow. It looked like the little fella had taken multiple trips up and down the trail recently.

"I bet the goat took it and hid it somewhere. Here, uhhh, this way."

((Garg Carg continued in Reefer Madness))

Jacob got up, following his new flannel goth buddy.

"Right. The, uh, goats aren't gonna follow us, right?"

((Jacob Winters continued in Reefer Madness))