[George] Day 17: Meanwhile, at Camp Serenity (tag Carlos)

Jun 24, 2006 00:59

Camp Serenity was coming along rather nicely, George thought. She and Carlos (and Faith and Mara and Ripley and Dr. Pierson) had established their camp on the beach closest to the wreckage of the Council Learjet. That still left them more than an hour's walk from the crash site but since the site had been pretty thoroughly picked over, George didn't expect they'd be going back.

This wasn't the beach where the transmitter crew had found Faith and Mara. That was farther to the south. This section of beach was bounded to the north by a stony bluff. It wasn't particularly high, and it was easy enough to get to the top if you went inland a short distance and walked up the slope. They'd done so yesterday, and seen nothing but an extensive vista of jungle canopy and open ocean with a thin ribbon of beach between them to the north and south.

A small stream trickled down into the sea a short way south of the bluff. It wasn't as large a stream as the one near the original crash site, but it was adequate for the smaller group. A small firepit marked the center of the camp, adequate for cooking but not intended to double as a signal fire. A new latrine had been the work of a long afternoon, but now Camp Serenity, as George had christened it, had all the comforts of Camp Crash if not of home.

George and Carlos were sharing their reconstructed shelter. There was an actual tent set up in camp as well, though George didn't know if Mara and Faith had even yet settled who was using it. And Ripley--George wasn't sure she ever slept, or if she did, whether she did so lying down or perched in a tree.

Mara had collected the books Miss Blake had mentioned. Miss Blake had failed to mention that they were written in Latin. "That's Greek to me," George had said, earning an eyeroll from Carlos and a groan from Faith. Mara hadn't reacted. She'd simply continued to study the books, turning a page now and then. George wasn't sure if she was actually reading the Latin text or just studying the woodcuts and drawings that illustrated them, and she hadn't asked. Mara seemed to have achieved a kind of fragile equilibrium and George didn't want to disturb it. If she couldn't read Latin, George figured, she could always ask Dr. Jackson to translate, or maybe Dr. Pierson.

(Or Verlin,) George thought, then dismissed the idea. He'd settled into a sullen silence in the last day or so, worn down by Mara and George's refusal to acknowledge him when he railed at them or tried to give orders. But he wasn't about to help them read books he didn't think they should possess in the first place.

"Penny for them," Carlos said, sitting down beside George. He looked good. He smelled good, too.

George smiled at him. "Maslow's hierarchy," she said.

"What about it?"

"Well...we have food, water and shelter. We're fairly secure."

"And...?"

"And now I think it's time to see to...other needs," George said.

"Did you have something specific in mind?"

"Actually...yeah," George said. She grabbed a fistful of Carlos' shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

day 17, camp serenity

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