Back in the Saddle

[blastinus]

(Jeff Greene continued from The Erika Vendetta)

Light had barely peeked out of the clouds when Jeff arose and walked down to the shore. He was antsy, uneasy, and more importantly, he'd found a bunch of good rocks.

Nobody was around this stretch of sand. No one to impress, no one to play up to. It was just him and the sea. Not an even surface by any means, but he wasn't exactly spoiled for choices. He glanced down at the little pile of stones he'd amassed, maybe fifteen in total, and he set himself to his business.

The first skipped once, hung in the air, and vanished among the waves. The second simply went right in, and the third, and fourth, fifth, sixth... But the seventh...it bounced, and bounced, and bounced again, and then it was no more.

Three skips. A new record.

Jeff allowed a small smirk to spread across his face. Even in these darkest of times, he could still find places to grow. Maybe it was meaningless. Maybe he was obsessing over such a minute thing, but this was more than throwing rocks into bodies of water. This was progress, this was accomplishment. Jeff had been in a rut for most of his high school life, and he'd never been able to escape it, to pull himself out. He'd been trapped in his rage, in his despair, just lashing out at the world in revenge for standing in his way. Everything was in his way; the team, his coaches, his family...they all must have thought he was crazy. Maybe he HAD been going crazy. Always so obsessed with that QB position...they must have thought he was the world's biggest joke.

For many, this island was probably Hell on Earth, but if he'd never come here, he'd have been chasing some bitter goal for the rest of his life, buried within himself, always pining for something that had never been within his reach.

"I want to thank you guys," he said. He didn't see the camera, but he knew they could hear him. "When I first woke up, I wanted to kill every last one of you, slowly. Make you suffer for bringing me here. But I dunno..."

He undid the sling and waved out his left arm. It still stung a little, but he didn't have time to wait for it any more. He transferred his shield over, shifted his bag over to his right side, and unzipped it, staring at the still-unused nailbat hiding inside. He drew it, took some practice swings in the air, and put it back in.

"...I think you assholes might have saved me."

That remained to be seen, of course. There were still a hundred kids to plow through. But Jeff's mind was clearer than it'd ever been. He knew what he had to do to succeed, and the fact was, he had a lot of scores to settle. As long as he took them piecemeal, a hundred was no problem at all.

It was time to get to work.

(Jeff Greene continued elsewhere)