the only engine of survival - part one
Kris has been scared for so long that the fear has become a part of him. A constant current just beneath his skin, honing his every instinct until he becomes one with the forest, every sight and sound directly wired to his nervous system. The sound of a twig breaking will have him moving in the other direction before he's even registered the sound, and a shadow will make him stop dead, holding his breath while he waits for it to pass.
He made himself a spear using the Swiss Army knife they never thought to remove from his pocket. It's no match for a high powered rifle, but the hunters are not the only predators roaming the forest and having a weapon makes him feel better, even if it's just for show. Carved into the handle are seven horizontal lines, one for each day he’s survived, and the way they scratch against his palm are a reminder to never let his guard down.
He doesn't know how many of the others are still alive, if any. In the beginning the forest was ripe with sounds - screams, shots and harsh breaths - but it's quiet now, only the occasional noise echoes through the trees as if to remind him to stay alert.
-
It's almost nightfall on the eighth day when Kris finds him. Kris remembers him from the first day, remembers thinking, stupidly so, that he wouldn't last long, as if the daring swipes of eye shadow across his lids were somehow belying weakness. The eye shadow is long gone, and only the barest smudge of dark remains around the man's closed eyes, more of a testament to exhaustion, maybe, than to makeup.
He's out cold, curled up beneath a tree. Kris wouldn't even have seen him if the dying rays of the sun hadn't been reflected by the spikes on his boots. Kris is going to leave him, walk past as if he was never there, but then a shout is heard in the distance and he's moving closer before he's had the time to really think about it.
"Hey," he whispers, voice hoarse from lack of use.
The man doesn't even stir. Another shout is heard, closer this time and Kris twitches, half tempted to just run for it. Instead he crouches down, wrapping his fingers around the man's ankle.
"Hey," he says again, slightly louder but just as rough.
That gets a reaction and within seconds Kris finds himself flattened to the ground with the man looking down on him, a wild glint to his unusually blue eyes.
"Who are you?" the man demands, voice harsh. "What do you want?"
"I'm…"
Before Kris can continue a scream rings out, too long and too loud, only to be cut off by the cruel cough of an automatic weapon.
"Shit," the man hisses, rolling off Kris and pushing to his feet.
Kris expects to be left behind, but instead the man extends a hand and more or less yanks Kris to his feet, pulling him along as he starts running. Kris stumbles a couple of times, a renewed charge of adrenaline making his head spin, but instead of letting him go the man holds on tighter, leading Kris deeper into the forest.
-
Kris doesn't know how long they run, but when they finally stop his lungs are burning with every panted breath, chest heaving as he struggles for air. The man doesn't seem much better off as he folds forward and rests his hands on his knees, a wet rattling cough shaking his lanky frame.
"That cough doesn't sound too good," Kris remarks.
The man gives him a withering look. "No shit," he says curtly.
Kris doesn't respond, straining his ears to hear over their gasped breaths. The forest seems still again, no shouts in the distance, no sounds of movement, but it's hard to hear over the thunder of his heartbeat and he knows better than to trust the silence.
"Where are we?" he asks, straining his eyes to see through the encroaching darkness, looking for some kind of landmark.
"South side," the man answer. "Not too far from the compound."
Kris flinches, eyes going wide. "Are you crazy?" he hisses, feet already twitching with their need to run again.
The man reaches out, wrapping his long fingers around Kris's elbow, as if he can read the intent in Kris's eyes.
"They won't look for us here," he says. "Trust me."
Kris's eyes narrows and he almost laughs. "Yeah, right," he says. "I don't even know your name."
The man's lips twitch into something that's almost a smile. "I'm Adam," he says. "Adam Lambert."
Kris hesitates, searching Adam's face in the darkness. "Kris Allen," he says eventually. "But I still don't trust you."
Adam smiles. "That's okay," he says. "I don't trust you either."
-
Adam finds them shelter, a tiny little crevice between two rocks that barely fits the both of them but that offers some protection from the wind blowing through the trees. Kris thinks Adam's used it before, but he doesn't ask, not even when he finds the row of shaky lines scraped into the stone. Eight lines to match the eight lines carved into his spear.
It's not enough to make him trust Adam, not yet, but it awakens a sense of kinship from one survivor to another.
-
The following day Adam's cough gets worse, and there's a hectic flush to his cheeks that makes Kris think he has a fever. He doesn't complain however, leading Kris to a secluded freshwater spring and then further into the woods to look for food.
It seems Adam's routine is much the same as Kris's, quiet roaming with all senses alert, eating whatever he can find along the way. It's never enough, Kris's belly screams for food at all hours of the day, but it's enough to keep them going at least, handfuls of sweet berries and thick roots.
"I wonder what these are," Adam says, studying the root Kris offers him.
Kris shrugs. "All I know is that if I get away from here, I'm never eating one again."
"When," Adam says with quiet certainty. "When you get away from here."
Kris nods at that, half smile tugging at his lips. It's easier to have hope, he finds, now that he's no longer alone.
-
"I really want a shower," Adam says that evening. They're huddled together under a tree, seeking shelter from the rain drizzling from above. "A long, hot shower."
Kris nods, staring blindly through the branches. Adam is like a furnace where he's pressed up against Kris's side, yet he can't stop shivering, arms wrapped tightly around his knees.
"And a bed. Oh, and a change of clothes."
Kris smiles at that, nudging Adam lightly. "Clothes before food?" he asks.
Adam doesn't answer muffling another coughing fit into the crook of his elbow and Kris's stomach twists with worry. He carefully shrugs out of his dirty jacket and puts it over Adam's shoulders. It's not much, but it's the only thing he's got to offer.
Adam turns his head to look at Kris with glassy eyes. "But now you're going to be cold," he mumbles.
"I'll be fine," Kris answers firmly. "You need it more."
Adam stares at him for a moment longer, then he nods, eyes slipping shut for a moment. "I really don't feel too well," he mumbles.
-
They stay under the tree all night, Adam sleeping with his head in Kris's lap and Kris keeping watch until his eyes are burning with the strain. Adam's sleep is restless and plagued by coughing fits and nightmares. Kris has to muffle him several times to keep him from shouting out loud and it's not until the sky starts lightening that Adam finally slips into a deeper sleep, his forehead no longer quite as hot to the touch.
It stopped raining during the night and when dawn breaks the forest seems to glow a deep and luscious green. Kris's back aches from sitting all night and his stomach feels hollow but when Adam stirs beside him, slowly blinking his eyes open, he can't help his smile. Adam's cheeks are no longer flushed with fever and his eyes look clearer.
"Hey," Adam says, lips stretching into an answering smile. "Good morning."
Adam has a beautiful smile, big and bright, and Kris isn't surprised when his stomach flutters in a familiar way.
"Did you stay awake all night?" Adam asks, pushing himself up to sit with his back against the tree trunk.
"Yeah," Kris says with a shrug. "Someone had to keep watch."
Adam nods, reaching over to touch Kris's wrist. "Thank you," he says.
Kris gives him a fleeting smile in response, almost embarrassed by how easily he went from suspicion to companionship. Maybe it was finding out that Adam's a singer too, or maybe it's just that he missed having someone to talk to.
"Do you want to sleep for a while?" Adam asks. "I'll keep watch."
Kris considers it, but his rumbling stomach wins over his heavy lids. "Maybe later," he says. "Let's try to find some food."
Adam nods, and this time when he reaches out, he doesn't pull his hand back.
-
They make it through three more days without incident, slowly trying to patch together something that at least resembles a plan. It's easier to do actual recon between the two of them; one can keep watch while the other explores. Kris never managed more than a rudimentary mental map on his own, but between the two of them they map out the two roads, the private airstrip, and the basic outline of the compound.
The compound consists of two low barracks, three outhouses and one main building. There are ten jeeps parked on the perimeter and they think there are at least two more.
"Twenty soldiers, maybe?" Adam suggests, lying flat on his stomach staring down at the compound below them. The base, or whatever it is, doesn't seem to be running anywhere near full capacity.
"Thirty at most," Kris agrees.
Spying on them makes Kris feel as if he's in control for the first time since he woke up in the cargo hold of a small airplane, surrounded by terrified strangers and men with guns. It makes him feel human again, real, and not just like someone else's prey.
"I wish we knew who they were," Adam mutters, and when Kris turns his head to look at him Adam's eyes are burning with fury.
"Me too," Kris says, anger boiling hot and cold at the pit of his stomach.
-
On the twelfth day they found a cave close to the compound and it's been their home ever since. It's tiny, there's barely enough space for Adam to sit upright, but it's dry and surprisingly warm. Besides, it seems that they are safer here where the compound is just behind a row of trees than they were further away. When the search patrols go out, it's always by car, and the guards walking the perimeters don’t seem to be looking for them.
"Maybe they think we're dead," Adam says when Kris remarks that the patrols seem to be tapering off. "It's been over two weeks."
Kris nods slowly, staring at the map they’ve scratched into the rock wall, barely-there white lines against gray stone. The northern part of the island is almost entirely blank and the line marking the road that doesn't lead towards the airstrips ends uncertainly in the middle of the map.
"I think this is the key," he says, tapping the faint line. "The second road has to lead somewhere, right?"
Adam nods reluctantly. They've discussed it before, but Adam doesn't want to move too far from the shelter and so far Kris has agreed with him. The food is plentiful around here. There's something like an abandoned orchard growing not too far from the cave and they even managed to catch some small rabbits, using Kris's knife to cut their flesh into strips and lay them out to dry in the unforgiving sun. It doesn't taste very good, but it's better than going hungry.
Moving further into the island means uncertainty, but it might be their only hope of escape.
-
That night Kris wakes up to an empty cave. He can tell it's empty before he even opens his eyes, Adam's solid form along his back having become as familiar as his own heartbeat, and he's moving before he's had the time to blink them fully open. He tells himself that Adam just went outside to relieve himself, but the sound of engines and murmured voices in the distance, makes panic gnaw at his stomach as he crawls towards the mouth of the cave.
The fear has become easier to bear since he met Adam, no longer squeezing him quite as tightly, but in another way it's also become worse because now he has someone to worry about. He finds Adam in their usual lookout spot, lying flat on his belly with his eyes trained on the compound, and the relief is so potent Kris almost forgets how to breathe.
Adam doesn't look up when Kris crawls up to lie next to him, and he doesn't comment when Kris reaches out to wrap his hand around Adam's elbow reassuring himself that Adam's really there.
"Something's happening," Adam says, voice shaky.
Kris squints down at the tiny people milling around the brightly lit compound. It seems Adam's right.
-
"If they’ve captured more people to hunt we're going to be in trouble," Adam murmurs when they're back in the cave.
"Yeah," Kris says, staring at the map he can't even make out in the dark as if it holds any answers.
They're fairly certain they are the last two people standing of the twenty or so that were released into the forest that first night and probably more due to dumb luck than any kind of actual skills. Dumb luck probably won't get them through another round of the hunting games.
Somewhere in the distance Kris hears a dog bark and he sucks in a startled breath.
"Fuck," Adam hisses. "Did you hear that?"
"Yeah," Kris answers, voice coming out weak. "I did."
He's been having nightmares about dogs since he first ended up on the island and now it seems it's becoming reality. In the distance more dogs start barking and a shiver goes down his spine.
"They must be expecting new prisoners then," Adam says. "I mean… it doesn't make sense for them to use dogs to track us, right?"
"They learned from their mistakes," Kris says weakly. "They lost us in the woods so now they’ve brought dogs."
He doesn't think that the dogs can be used to track him and Adam, at least not until they've found something with their scent on it.
"Okay," Adam says, as if he's come to some sort of conclusion. "We'll move out first thing in the morning… unless… unless you think we should go now."
Kris thinks about it. His every instinct is telling him to run, and run fast, but moving in the dark is too risky. The hunters have night vision goggles, they don't, and a sprained ankle might make the difference between life and death.
"We'll wait until morning," he says, trying to sound more certain than he feels.
-
They lie down to sleep again, hip against hip, but Kris doubts that sleep will find them. There's a current of tension in the air between them, part fear, sour and thick, and part something else, something more urgent - primal.
He's not surprised when Adam reaches out, knuckles brushing against Kris's ribcage in a hesitant caress. The touch is barely there, yet it makes his stomach knot with sudden desire.
"Yeah," he whispers inanely. "Yes."
Adam's hand comes back, skating over Kris's stomach until it finds his hip, easily pulling him over on his side. They stare at each other in the dark for a moment, then Adam bends forward claiming Kris's chapped lips in a surprisingly soft kiss.
"I've wanted to do that for a while," Adam murmurs when he pulls back.
"I know," Kris responds simply.
Kris is the one that moves in for the second kiss, and the third, soft fluttery touches that last no more than a second each, but that still make his breath get stuck in his throat. Then Adam cups Kris's face with one of his hands, tilting Kris's chin up for a real kiss that steals his breath all together.
Kris doesn't remember kissing ever feeling like this before. It's as if his dick is hot-wired to his mouth, every lazy stroke of Adam's tongue making pleasure sizzle along his nerve-endings, setting him on fire. It's not long before he feels as if he's at the very brink of orgasm, hips rocking restlessly against Adam's in time to the fluttered thrusts of Adam's clever tongue.
"Fuck," he gasps, pulling away from Adam's tempting lips to catch his breath. "I have to…"
"Yeah," Adam says eagerly, fingers fumbling with the buttons of Kris's jeans. "Let me."
Kris finds himself pressed back against the ground with Adam poised above him. It's dark enough that he can't make out Adam's face, but it doesn't matter because he doesn't think he'll ever forget what Adam looks like. He reaches up, curling a hand around Adam's neck to pull him down for a kiss. It's hot and messy, chapped lips and sour tongues meeting with desperate urgency, while Adam struggles to push Kris's stiff jeans down over his hips.
In the end he gives up his struggle and just slides his hand into the open V of Kris's fly, curling his fingers around Kris's stiff cock.
"Oh," Kris groans, lifting his hips into Adam's touch and Adam's mouth comes back to muffle him.
"You have to keep quiet baby," Adam murmurs, hand finding a rhythm on Kris's flesh.
"Yeah… oh… yeah."
Kris nods, stupid and inane, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. Harsh breaths and partially muffled moans escape through his nose while he struggles to keep it down, hips shifting and twisting for more of the delicious friction.
"I wish I could just spread you out and eat you up," Adam murmurs, pressing kisses all over Kris's face.
"Yeah," Kris breathes, turning his face into Adam's kisses. "I want that."
"When we get out of here," Adam says, quiet and certain, and just like that Kris is coming, spilling over Adam's fingers and his own stomach.
The orgasm drains him, making his bones feel liquid, but he still has enough presence of mind to fumble for Adam's fly. Adam groans deep in his throat when Kris's fingers skate across his erection, hips stuttering forward. Getting the fly open is a struggle, Adam's jeans stiff with dirt and sweat, but he manages to push them down enough to get to Adam's dick, curling his hand around the thick length.
The angle is awkward and it feels as if it's been years, not months, since Kris last did this, but Adam doesn't seem to mind, muffling his moans and harsh breaths against the sweaty line of Kris's throat. Kris wishes he could think of something to say, something profound or just dirty, but his tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Adam groans long and low when he comes, and it's enough to make Kris's dick twitch with renewed interest, fingers sliding slick and easy over Adam's cock. He wants to taste the sticky fluid covering his fingers, but Adam stops him before he can lift his hands to his lips.
"You don't really want to do that," he murmurs, giving Kris a kiss instead. "No toothbrushes, remember?"
Kris chuckles, wiping his hand ineffectually against the ground. "Yeah," he says, smiling stupidly. "You'd probably stick with me for days."
"Well, when you put it like that…" Adam murmurs, his voice like liquid silk and Kris laughs again.
Kris never really believed in the healing powers of orgasms, but when he curls up with his head on Adam's chest, not even the sound of dogs barking in the distance can ruin his good mood. His heart feels lighter than it has in months and he squeezes Adam tightly, hoping that they'll make it out of this alive.
-
They break camp before dawn, bringing only the clothes on their backs, what remains of the dried meat, their spears and the plastic water bottle Adam found in the woods. Kris expects things to be different between them, awkward maybe, but when Adam leans over to kiss him good morning it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Everything is silent down at the compound when they leave, only the occasional bark disturbs the early morning stillness, but it's not enough to shatter Kris's optimism. They walk through the woods for the first part of the journey, stopping occasionally to eat whatever berries and fruits they find along the way and to refill the water bottle whenever they come across a fresh water spring.
"I was so sick the first two days," Adam remarks, after they've stopped for another snack. "I ate or drank something I probably shouldn't have and it was all I could do to keep breathing through the stomach spasms."
"Oh," Kris says, reaching out to curl his hand around Adam's wrist. Thinking that Adam might have died from food poisoning before they even met makes his stomach twist.
"It probably saved my life though," Adam continues, easily linking his fingers with Kris's. "I found that crevice I showed you and a couple of times the patrols just went right past me. I don't think they expected anyone to be that close."
Kris nods, but he squeezes Adam's fingers anyway. He can barely remember now what it was like to be alone. His missionary work turned out to be a surprising asset in this situation. He's used to going without creature comforts and he’d learned a little something about edible roots and berries on his travels. He's not an expert by any means, but it's amazing how much he could suddenly remember of lessons learned forever ago just because he had to.
"It's almost funny," Adam says, staring towards the road only just visible ahead of them. "My friends used to joke that I wouldn’t make it a day in the wilderness. Guess I showed them, huh?"
"Yeah," Kris says, smiling. "You really did."
At the back of his mind he remembers his first assessment of Adam and feels strangely guilty. He mistook Adam's glammed up appearance for weakness when he should have seen it as strength to always be true to himself.
-
Around noon they risk walking along the actual road, senses alert for the sound of approaching vehicles. The sound of gravel crunching under their shoes seems unnaturally loud, but the underbrush is thicker on this side of the island, making walking through the forest slow and painstaking.
Kris keeps sneaking glances at Adam while they walk, admiring the sharp curve of his jaw and the freckles painting his dirt-streaked neck. Last night already feels like a dream, distant and vague, but when Adam turns to meet his eyes the connection is almost palpable, making Kris's stomach clench with sudden emotion.
Adam smiles. "Eyes on the road, baby," he says fondly.
Kris nods with a flush creeping up his neck, feeling quite like a scolded child.
"Hey," Adam starts. "I don't mind…"
He cuts himself off and for a moment Kris wonders what happened then he hears it too, the sound of an approaching car. He stumbles and flails when Adam more or less tackles him to get him moving and they only just make it to the first line of trees before the Jeep comes into view. Kris ends up on the forest floor with Adam on top of him, squeezing his eyes tightly shut while the car drives past. It seems impossible for them not to be spotted, yet the car disappears down the road without pause.
"Too close," Adam mutters, rolling off Kris. "Too fucking close."
He sounds as shook up as Kris feels and Kris isn't surprised when Adam fumbles down his arm to link their fingers tightly together.
"Maybe we should keep to the woods for a while," Kris murmurs.
"Yeah," Adam says. "Let's do that."
-
The car destroys their equilibrium and for the next hour they twitch at every shadow and sound, slowly creeping through the dense forest with their hands linked between them. They stop once, to eat handfuls of sweet berries and to refill the water bottle, but within minutes they're up and moving again, fear clouding their every move.
They've left the comfort of the familiar behind and their movement gets even slower, more hesitant, eyes roaming back and forth as they look for hidden threats.
"I can hear the ocean," Adam murmurs as they slowly climb up a steep hill, keeping close to the ground to avoid being spotted by passing aircraft. To their knowledge the soldiers have at least one small airplane and one helicopter at their disposal, but Kris hasn't heard the helicopter since those first tense nights when it roamed low over the forest, searchlights blazing across the ground.
Kris pauses, pressing himself against the ground and realizes that he can hear it too, a low constant rumble not too far in the distance. He cranes his neck, looking towards the road. It's almost hidden behind the trees, but as far as he can tell it's still blissfully empty.
"We must be close to the northern shore," he mumbles.
Adam nods, his face made up of tense lines and shadows. Kris wants to smooth them out, make Adam smile at him, but he knows that his own face is just as worried. They don't know what awaits them on this side of the island.
The top of the hill offers a slightly better view, enough for them to make out buildings and movement to the far left. The forest cuts off abruptly some 50 yards from the fenced property, much like the area around the compound had been cleared.
"It's a harbor," Adam says. "It has to be."
Kris is inclined to agree, but he doesn't want to get his hopes up. Even if it is a harbor there's nothing to say they will actually manage to steal a boat, or sneak onboard one.
"We're going to need a closer look," he says, stomach knotting at the thought of making it to the edge of the forest. The trees, at least, offer some kind of protection.
They make it down the other side of the hill undisturbed and find a shadowed spot at the base to plan their next move while eating tiny coarse slivers of the meat they brought. The harbor, if that's what it is, seems to be bustling with life, but as they watch, more and more trucks drive off towards the other side of the island and the noise starts to quiet down. Above them the sky is slowly turning orange signaling the coming of night. Within an hour it's going to be fully dark.
-
Kris takes the lead as they move closer to the buildings; crouched down he winds in and out between the trees, trying to present as small a target as possible. He learned that from some action movie and he has no idea if it works when you're trying to avoid being spotted as opposed to shot, but it's been working so far.
The soldier comes out of nowhere. One moment the forest before Kris is empty and quiet, the next there's a man in camouflage gear blocking his way.
"Well, well," the soldier says, shaking his head with a smirk. "What have we here?"
Kris freezes, his every sense alert as he waits for the soldier's next move. A name tag on the soldier's chest reads Lt. Hopkins and he speaks with a distinct southern twang that reminded Kris of home.
"You're American," he blurts out, heart tripping madly.
Lt. Hopkins doesn't answer, instead he reaches for the radio clipped to his belt keeping his gun trained at Kris's chest. If he alerts the others to Kris's presence they're fucked. The forest is going to be flooded with soldiers within minutes and they'll take Adam down as well.
Kris shifts his grip on the spear still clutched in his hand, muscles tensing as he prepares to attack. He knows he doesn't stand a chance against Lt. Hopkins, but maybe he'll at least be able to buy Adam a few precious moments to get away.
"Get down," Adam hisses out of nowhere and Kris drops to the ground at the same time as Adam takes a wild swing at Lt. Hopkins's head with a branch he must have picked up somewhere.
It's a lucky shot, hitting Lt. Hopkins square at the temple, and he goes down like a sack of bricks, collapsing face forward against the forest floor.
"Holy shit," Adam says, blinking in surprise.
Kris scrambles to his feet, breath coming out in short terrified gasps. "We better get moving," he says, stepping over Lt. Hopkins's prone form. "They're going to miss him."
Adam nods, but he crouches down by Lt. Hopkins side, to grab his gun, his radio and the knife strapped to his leg before straightening up again. He gives Kris the knife and fastens the radio to the waistband of his jeans, keeping the gun in hand.
"Do you even know how to use that?" Kris asks, nodding towards the gun.
Adam shakes his head curtly. "If I have to, I'll figure it out," he says.
-
It is a harbor and there's a ship that appears to be of local origin tied to the dock. The captain, or at least someone from the crew, is standing on the dock talking to one of the soldiers. Kris and Adam stay hidden at the forest line; there's too much open ground to cover between them and the ship and there's also the small matter of the fence. At Adam's hip the radio crackles again with another call for Lt. Hopkins to check in. They ignore it.
It's almost fully dark, the harbor lit up like a Christmas tree before them, which means they are never going to make it unseen. There only seems to be one watch tower but there doesn't have to be more than one with the wide open space lit up before them.
Kris glances off to the side, where the trees naturally thin out to meet the beach.
"How's your breast stroke?" he asks.
"It'll have to be good enough," Adam answers, voice tense.
-
They strip down to undershirts and boxers standing in among the trees just above a narrow sliver of beach that they hope isn't visible from the harbor. Adam figures that their black shirts will camouflage them better than their pale skin and Kris agrees, happy now that he chose to go with black rather than white all those days ago.
"It's going to be rough," Adam says, looking at the harbor. "As soon as we've rounded the fence keep close to the dock."
Kris nods, chewing down on his lower lip. They ate the last of the meat while scanning the harbor and now it sits like a lump in his stomach. Adam pulls him close, squeezing him hard for just a moment before pressing a desperate kiss to Kris's lips.
"When we get home," Adam says tersely. "I'm going to take you out on a date with wine and flowers and real food."
Kris smiles, small and tense. "I'd like that," he says.
They exchanged necklaces earlier, Kris giving Adam his music note pendant on a leather cord in exchange for Adam's chain with a simple blue stone. They said it was for luck but they both know that if only one of them makes it, it's something to take back to the other one's family.
"Okay," Adam says, squaring his shoulder. "Let's do this."
"Yes," Kris says simply.
-
The wind has picked up and it's a struggle at first to swim against the waves, but Kris soon finds a rhythm that works for him. His muscles start aching before he's even halfway, but he keeps going with single-minded determination ignoring the way his lungs burn.
It's hard to keep track of Adam in the water, but the occasional glimpse of his white face is enough for Kris to swim faster, struggling to keep up with Adam's longer strokes. Once he's swimming along the dock Kris slows down slightly, struggling to keep the waves from knocking him against the piers.
The old wood that makes up the base of the dock is slippery against his fingers but he finds that crawling along it, slow and painstaking is easier than trying to swim. There's an overhang above his head, shielding him from view, and he hopes that'll be enough because it's impossible to muffle his desperate harsh breaths.
His muscles start to knot in the cold water, making his moves stiff and clumsy, but soon he's got their target in view and a renewed charge of adrenaline makes him forget the pain for a moment. Somewhere above him he can hear people talking and he struggles to keep silent, sucking breaths with his mouth wide open.
"Lt. Hopkins still isn't answering," he hears someone say.
"We'll wait until the locals take off before we send out a search patrol," someone else answers. "They're suspicious enough as it is."
The rest of the conversation drowns in the wind and the creaks and bangs coming from the idle ship, and Kris continues his slow crawl forward, scanning the dark waters for Adam's familiar form. He spots Adam further ahead, waiting for him by the bulk of the ship, and he struggles to move faster along the slippery dock.
"We should try to move to the other side," Adam murmurs when he catches up. "Keep the ship between us and the harbor."
Kris nods, craning his neck to look towards the other side of the ship. It's a good plan but one that will leave them exposed to watchful eyes. He looks to the narrow space between the boat and the dock, slipping through that crack and then moving around the front would probably be safer when it comes to being spotted, but chances are they'll get slammed by the boat.
"We'll have to swim underwater," he murmurs. "Unless we're going to risk getting stuck."
Adam nods jerkily. "Keep close to the boat," he whispers, reaching out to squeeze Kris's fingers.
Kris nods in agreement, squeezing Adam's fingers right back. He wants to hold on forever, cling to the only kind of comfort there is to find in this wicked place, but when Adam's grip loosens he lets go, giving Adam a tight smile.
"You go first," he whispers.
Adam looks like he's going to protest, tilting his head back to stare at the underside of the dock as if he suddenly developed x-ray vision.
"Please," Kris murmurs. He needs to know that Adam is safe first. He doesn't know why, but he just has to.
Adam stares at him for a moment, eyes huge and shiny in the dark, but then he nods and moves closer to press a tight-lipped kiss against Kris's cheek.
"See you on the flipside," he mumbles.
"Be safe," Kris urges, but Adam's already slipping deeper into the water. His heels are visible for a moment, tiny white points against the dark sea, then he disappears completely from view.
Kris slowly counts backwards from thirty with his heart tripping triple-time and his chest tight with worry. Once he reaches one he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs to the brim, and dives.
The water closes in around him, disorientating him for a moment, and he knocks his forehead against the hull. The blow makes him let out too much of his breath and his lungs are burning before he's even made it around the edge of the boat. He breaks the surface too soon, sucking in a desperate panicked breath. Thankfully, his luck holds and he says a quick prayer of thanks in his head as he swims closer to the boat and into Adam's waiting arms.
"Are you okay?" Adam whispers. "You're bleeding."
Kris nods tightly, reaching out to wrap his fingers around the rope Adam's holding on to. "Knocked my head against the hull," he murmurs, reaching up to prod at his forehead. "I think it's just a cut."
Adam still looks worried, curling his free hand around Kris's shoulders. "You're not allowed to die on me," he says tersely.
"I'll try not to," Kris answers, gratefully resting his face against Adam's slick throat. The water is cold enough to be numbing, the heat of day nothing but a memory, and he doesn't know how long his tired fingers will be able to hold on once they start moving, but anything is better than the island and for the first time since this morning he lets himself hope.
-
In the end their great escape is almost anticlimactic. They cling to the rope and each other, eyes squeezed shut in sudden panic, when the boat's engine comes to life and people start moving around - talking and laughing - on the deck above them, waiting for the cries of alarm that never come. Instead the boat steadily drags them away from their death sentence until the island is just a green blur in the distance, too far away to harm them.
It's a struggle to hang on to the rope, every muscle in Kris's body aching with the exertion. His fingers are stiff and swollen and his palms scraped raw by the rough hemp of the rope, but he still holds on, focusing all of his energy on the desperate curl of his fingers. Whenever he starts to slip Adam's there to steady him, but Adam is getting tired too, his grip white-knuckled and his face grim.
"We're going to have to swim," Adam says, voice loud to be heard over the sound of rushing water and the boat's engine. "I don't know how much longer I can hang on."
Kris swallows and nods. He knows that Adam would be able to hang on for a lot longer if he didn't waste his strength on Kris and if nothing else he knows that he's going to have to attempt swimming soon.
"It's not too far," Adam says, eyeing the island the boat is now gliding past. "Maybe… half a mile?"
Kris nods again. He has no idea if Adam's estimate is even close, but it doesn't matter, there's no other way. He doesn't waste his breath on speaking, instead he nods again, gets his feet against the hull and pushes hard. He vaguely hears Adam call out behind him and then he sinks. For a moment he thinks he's not going to make it, that he's going to be sucked back and end up in the propellers, but somehow he finds the strength to pull forward, forcing his trembling arms to swim.
Every stroke is a struggle, but he keeps his eyes trained on the beach and keeps going mechanically. His breath gets stuck in his throat and his lungs feel as if they're going to burst, but he pushes on, pulling on every last reserve of strength that he has. He doesn't dare to look for Adam, afraid that even the slightest break in his rhythm is going to make him lose momentum but he hopes so fervently for Adam to be right behind him that he can almost feel him there.
He doesn't make it. He comes close enough that his feet find leverage, then a wave knocks him over and he just doesn't have the strength to push himself towards the surface, tumbling blindly through the murky water. The last thing he feels is a hand closing like a vice around his upper arm then everything goes black.
-
Kris wakes up on a patch of grass, sunlight beaming down on his face through a sea of green leaves. For a moment he thinks he's back on the island trying to force his aching body to dive for cover, then he remembers last night and his heart nearly stops.
"Adam," he shouts, but it comes out a sad pitiful croak, his throat raw and parched. "Adam," he tries again after swallowing dryly, but with little more success.
He forces his muscles to cooperate, pushing himself up to sit, but the slight movement makes his head spin and his vision darken while his pulse thunders in his ears. He sucks in a breath through his nose and blinks rapidly until his vision clears. Adam is nowhere to be seen.
Before Kris's feet the beach stretches out, startling white sand that tapers off into turquoise water. It's the kind of view that might end up on the front of a pamphlet advertising vacation homes, but Kris isn't in the mood to appreciate its beauty.
He carefully turns his head back and forth, looking for a sign of Adam's whereabouts. Adam must have been around at some point, there's no way Kris made it out of the water on his own, but the beach is empty now - nothing but sand, the sea and trees in every direction. If there were footsteps in the sand they have been made into shapeless dents by the wind coming off the sea, making it impossible for Kris to determine which way Adam might have gone.
Kris shivers, forcing his legs to bend so that he can wrap his arms around them, resting his chin against his knees. In his mind all kinds of worst-case scenarios are crowing for his attention but he resolutely forces himself to think of nothing at all, staring out at the sea with prickling eyes and an aching stomach.
"Kris."
The sound is faint and for a moment Kris thinks he imagined it, then he sees Adam, beautiful impossible Adam, running along the beach. His bare feet trip and stumble on the sand and a few times Kris thinks for sure that he's going to fall but Adam always manages to right himself at the last minute, staggering forward with his arms flailing in a way that should be ridiculous but really isn't.
Adam is clearly exhausted by the time he reaches Kris, collapsing onto his knees and crawling forward with his breath coming out in short desperate gasps. Kris reaches out for him, fingers scrabbling across Adam's sweat-slick t-shirt until he manages to pull Adam on top of him, collapsing backwards with his sudden success.
He laughs breathlessly, stupid and happy, clutching at Adam's heaving back. "We made it," he says, face splitting into a smile. "Jesus fuck, we actually made it."
Adam laughs and wheezes at the same time, pressing his face into Kris's neck and clutching at Kris's sides.
"You wouldn't wake up," he says, voice thready and barely there. "I tried to wake you but you didn't wake up."
"Sorry," Kris mumbles, turning his face into Adam's and kissing his gasping lips. "Didn't mean to."
"I was going to find help," Adam says against Kris's mouth. "But all I found was a road and didn't want to leave you for that long."
"It's okay," Kris says stupidly, kissing Adam again. "We'll go together."
"Yeah." Adam pushes himself up on trembling arms to collapse into a heap next to Kris. "In a minute."
Kris curls himself bodily around Adam, holding on tight. They made it out of hell. He'll wait forever if he has to.
-
They make it to the road, but it's a slow painstaking walk between the burning sand and Kris's shaky legs. Adam seems to be in slightly better condition, but Kris thinks he might just be hiding his discomfort for Kris's sake, letting Kris lean on him whenever his legs threaten to give out completely.
"You'd think that after weeks of nothing but exercise and fresh air we'd be in better shape," Adam jokes as they settle down next to the road to rest for a while.
Kris chuckles, but his head is spinning from the heat and he feels oddly detached, as if he's watching them from afar. His muscles tremble even in rest and he honestly doesn't know how he's going to manage to walk another step without proper rest and about ten gallons of water.
"We'll manage," Adam says, as if Kris actually said any of that out loud, wrapping an arm around Kris's hunched shoulders and pressing a kiss against his sweaty temple.
-
The first car that passes them on the road almost makes them scramble for the woods in fear, but when it stops and the driver asks if they need a ride in broken English they accept, piling in to the tiny backseat and linking their hands between their thighs.
The air in the car is sweltering, despite all of the windows being rolled down, but as they take off down the road the crosswind actually offers some kind of relief. Kris dozes with his head against Adam's shoulder, while Adam talks to the driver, trying to find out where they are exactly and how far it is to the nearest hospital, and, or, American embassy. The driver makes a blank face at embassy but he perks up when Adam mentions the hospital, nodding vigorously and promising to take them there.
Kris smiles in gratitude, but it's probably lost against Adam's crusty t-shirt.
-
The hospital, such as it is, is tiny and none of the doctors speak English, but they take one look at Kris before guiding him to lie down on a gurney. Adam makes some sort of joke about his own supreme constitution that Kris would have smiled at if he hadn't chosen that moment to pass out cold. Adam's smiling sunburned face is the last thing he sees before everything goes black.
-
Kris wakes up in a proper bed with an IV attached to his arm. He feels better, sharper, as if he's no longer swimming around in his own head and he cranes his neck back and forth, looking for Adam. The bed is surrounded by curtains and he croaks out a passable simile of Adam's name, hoping that he's close by.
It takes a moment, but then the curtain on the right side is pulled away and Adam looks in at him.
"Hey," he says, smiling. "You're awake."
Kris nods, licking his lips. The relief of seeing Adam settles low in his gut and he smiles back a little belatedly.
"I would come closer," Adam says. "But they hooked me up with one of those too."
He nods at Kris's IV and Kris squints up at the clear bag. He stopped missing his glasses weeks ago, but right now they would really come in handy.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Just fluids, I think," Adam responds. "They found a guy who speaks English, but he's not very good with medical terms."
Kris nods. Years ago he almost died during a mission trip and he learned then to have faith in the medical professionals no matter how ill-equipped they seem. Adam looks pale under his tan and Kris can tell from the way the curtains rustle that his hands are trembling.
"You should go back to bed," he says. "We can still talk."
Adam nods and pulls the curtain further to the side so that Kris can see his bed before he climbs back into it. Kris rolls over on his side to face him, making sure to keep some slack in the IV line.
"Do you know where we are?" he asks.
"Small village called Napara, Port Vila is just on the other side of the island," Adam answers. "Even better, they found me the number for the nearest American embassy. Someone's going to come to pick us up by tomorrow at the latest and they're going to contact our families to let them know we've been found."
"That's awesome," Kris says, a sudden pang of homesickness making his stomach clench. "They must have been so worried."
Adam nods, eyes glazing over for a moment. "And they don't even know the half of it," he murmurs.
He doesn't question how the embassy is going to find his family. He knows them well enough to realize they’ve probably made pests of themselves by now in their attempts to find him. He wishes he had a phone so that he could call them himself, but a small hospital like this one probably couldn't afford an international call and he already owes them for the care.
The island and everything that happened there is already starting to feel like a vague terrifying dream. He knows he's never going to forget it for real, but the terror that has been his constant companion for so long is draining away.
"Do you think they're looking for us?" he asks.
Adam understands him without clarification. "I don't know," he says. "But they won't find us here."
Kris nods. He believes that because he has to.
-
The next few days pass by in a blur of pain killers and frantic activity. They're moved from the hospital the next morning, driven across the island to Port Vila and a larger hospital. Nice men in sharp suits question them over and over about their experiences, alone and together, and Kris gets the feeling they're trying to poke holes in their story, unable to fathom that it really happened.
Then they locate the island and there's another round of questions from sharper men in nicer suits and by the end of each day Kris is exhausted. They get to talk to a therapist too and they offer to bring Kris a priest, but he ran out of prayers in the last few weeks. If he goes to church again it will be to his church and his pastor; until then he can talk to God in his head.
He talks to his family every night but within minutes he has to excuse himself and murmur a quick goodbye. He's not ready to relate to the minutiae of daily life, and pretending that everything is fine is exhausting. The only one he can talk to, really talk to, is Adam and once they're released from the hospital into a fancy hotel they spend every night tangled in the sheets and each other.
-
"Do you think we can make this work in the real world?" Adam asks one night. He has one hand splayed between Kris's shoulder blades and the other tangled in his hair, solid points of comfort that Kris can't imagine ever being without. "Do you even want to?"
"Yeah," Kris says, fast, instinctual. "I… yeah."
Adam's silent for a moment, trailing his fingers over Kris's slick skin. "Me too," he says, low and sure, and Kris just knows they're going to make it work somehow.
--
PART TWO.