The rocks were sharp at the edges, uneroded from any weathering or creatures. They were gradually becoming larger, forming into angular silhouettes that appeared threatening in both stature and shape. A few almost looked human. The crew eventually were met at a stop, as the rocks finally formed into the mouth of a cavern. The yellow of the fog was now tinged slightly brownish orange. Whether that indicated a higher concentration or toxicity of the fog could be anyone’s guess, and no one was willing to test that theory.
“That cave –uhhhh…looks pretty unwelcoming.” Silas muttered to Gerrard, shoulders raising to a diffident shrug, “I mean –we aren’t required to explore every inch of this island, are we?” Silas then directed his gaze to the ground, “Sooo, how bout we scour more of the outside of the island?”
“Silas does have a point sir. We shouldn’t rush into anything that we aren’t fully equipped for.” Caelin chipped in. “In fact, if we don’t find anything of significance outside the cave, we could claim that it may be the source of the air pollution, and therefore we can deem it too dangerous to explore.” Caelin wore a grimace this time, facing towards the abyss of the cave. There is something inordinately wrong. Gerrard nodded in agreement, as there has to be more to this island than a cave.
The crew proceeded to retrace their steps, pulling out their locators to use their boat as the only distinctive landmark to the island. Start from the boat, circle back around until the boat is reached again. As the crew walked back to the more comforting shoreline, Silas spoke up once again.
“Is it just me, or are there less of those weird rocks?” he remarked. Everyone raised their eyes from the preoccupation of their screens. Were there truly less of them? Caelin confirmed Silas’s statement with furrowed brows, clearly puzzled at the lack of the silhouettes.
“I – There’s no way…” Caelin trails off.
“Oh god! The tracker’s moving! Guys! The tracker’s moving!” Gerrard immediately switched his pace to a sprint, beckoning the rest to join. The tracker was indeed moving, and it was slowly moving offshore. Caelin, being the second in line, was suddenly swept along, tripping and scratching himself on the rocks to match their sudden pace. They were thirty meters from shore…twenty, now ten…just five left. The fog cleared into a soul-crushing view. The boat was offshore, around twenty five meters away from the crew. Without a thought, Gerrard charged into the discolored water, dragging the second and third in the line. However, the hazmat suits were a detriment, The air trapped between the material and person muffled their movements, catching the water to remain stagnant. The boat was quicker, its motor rumbling angrily at a gaining distance. Gerrard and the rest stood no chance. All they could do was watch their hope shrink away, with a jagged silhouette on board. It was time for the three to make their way back on shore before the currents claimed their lives.