Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Annie awoke with a violent gasp, her body lurching forward as she turned to her side. Her chest burned, and a wave of nausea rolled through her as she coughed up brackish seawater, the acrid taste clinging to her tongue. Her fingers dug into the damp sand, the grains coarse beneath her trembling hands. Her ears rang, a shrill, piercing whine drowning out the distant roar of the ocean.

Then the memories hit—like a rifle butt to the face. The crash. The mission. The missing millionaires. The gunfire.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mind to slow, to make sense of it all. But clarity didn't come. Only pain. A deep, throbbing ache pulsed in her skull, and her limbs felt as though they were weighted down by iron chains.

A scream cut through the haze.

Annie's pulse quickened. It was close—too close. She forced herself upright, though the world spun violently around her. Her legs wobbled beneath her, muscles screaming in protest with every unsteady step forward.

There, sprawled on the beach, was a man writhing in agony. His uniform was soaked, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with a mixture of seawater and sweat. The sunlight cast dark shadows on his contorted face, his mouth opening and closing as though he were trying to form words but couldn't.

"Kelvin," Annie rasped, her throat raw.

No response.

She stumbled toward him, nearly collapsing onto the sand beside him. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed his shoulder, steadying him as he writhed. "Kelvin!" she tried again, shaking him slightly.

Slowly, his panicked movements eased, his wide eyes locking onto hers. But there was something distant in his gaze—disoriented, lost. Annie's stomach twisted.

"Hey, you're alright," she muttered, running her hands over his limbs, checking for injuries. No broken bones. That was good. But then she saw it—the thin rivulets of blood trailing from his ears, dark against his pale skin.

Her heart sank. Concussion. Or worse.

Snapping her fingers beside his face, Annie watched his reaction closely. Nothing. No flinch, no recognition. Her stomach twisted further.

He couldn’t hear her.

Suppressing a curse, Annie reached for her vest with stiff, cold fingers. The zipper resisted at first, jammed by grains of wet sand, but she yanked it open. Her hand found the familiar edges of a small, battered notepad and pen.

She scrawled two words in quick, shaky strokes: Follow me.

Holding it up, she tapped the paper twice to get his attention. Kelvin blinked, then after a long pause, gave a shaky thumbs-up.

Relief flooded through her, but it was short-lived. Because as she glanced up, past the wreckage-strewn shoreline, past the dark silhouettes of the trees ahead, she realized something chilling.

They weren’t alone.

In the shifting shadows of the jungle, something—or someone—was watching.

Annie scoured the beach with quick, practiced movements, her boots sinking slightly into the damp sand as she moved between scattered debris. The salty wind stung her eyes, carrying the distant cries of gulls and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. Her fingers trembled slightly as she yanked open her emergency pack, heart pounding in her chest.

Inside, she found the essentials: a survival guide, a weathered but functional lighter, a small hand ax, and—thank God—a GPS. She switched it on, but the screen blinked with a dreaded message: No Signal.

She clenched her jaw, stuffing the device back into her pack. She needs to find higher ground.

With that, she set off, scanning the wreckage for anything salvageable. Every step closer to the twisted remains of their aircraft sent a fresh wave of unease through her. The forest loomed just beyond the shoreline, its thick canopy a dark, uninviting mass. She knew that rescue wouldn’t come for at least three months. Three months trapped on an island crawling with God-knows-what. She’d read the reports—knew this place was rumored to be infested. With what, though, no one seemed to agree.

And now, it was just her and Kelvin.

She kept him close as they moved inland, following natural trails that wound through dense undergrowth. The air was thick, humid, carrying the scent of wet earth and decay. Their boots crunched over fallen leaves and twigs, the jungle pressing in around them like a living thing.

Then, they stumbled upon the bodies.

The two hikers lay crumpled in a heap, their skin waxy and stretched too tightly over their bones. Flies swarmed around them, buzzing hungrily. Annie swallowed down bile, forcing herself to breathe through her mouth as she knelt beside them.

“Sorry about this,” she muttered under her breath, voice hoarse.

She rifled through their bags, her hands steady despite the horror of it. Protein bars. Instant noodles. A tent, half-collapsed but still usable. A small, dented pot. A radio.

She handed the radio to Kelvin, who slung it over his shoulder with a grim nod.

"Let's move," she whispered.

They pressed on, navigating the thick terrain with growing urgency. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that stretched like clawed fingers between the trees. Then, as they reached the peak of a small hill, movement erupted ahead.

A pair of figures burst from the undergrowth, hollering in a language Annie didn’t recognize. Their skin was painted with deep crimson streaks, their eyes wide and glinting with something wild. They moved erratically, their bodies twitching and jerking, almost unnatural in their energy.

Annie barely had time to react before they were on her. Rough hands grabbed at her arms, pulling at her vest. She let out a sharp grunt, swinging her ax with a powerful arc. The blade barely missed its mark, but it was enough to send one of them stumbling back with a startled shriek.

Kelvin lunged forward, shoving the second native away before brandishing a large stick like a weapon. Together, they drove the attackers back, their frantic movements growing more erratic before they finally vanished into the jungle.

Panting, Annie wiped sweat from her brow, exchanging a glance with Kelvin.

They needed to find a clearing, somewhere to set up a home base.

After nearly an hour of pushing forward, they came across a small pond nestled between jagged rocks. The water shimmered under the dimming sky, teeming with fish, turtles, and the occasional frog. A good water source. A defensible position. This would have to do.

Annie dropped her pack and set up camp, her hands working swiftly to assemble the tent. She gestured for Kelvin to collect firewood, miming the action until he nodded in understanding.

By the time he returned with an armful of sticks, she had managed to spark a small fire, the flames crackling softly in the growing darkness. The pot of water began to heat, thin wisps of steam curling into the air.

Then—movement.

Annie froze, every muscle tensing.

Something shifted in the trees beyond their camp. A shape, barely visible in the dying light, lurked at the edge of the forest. Watching.

She slowly reached for her ax, fingers tightening around the worn handle.

The wilderness held its breath.

For a long moment, she stared into the shifting shadows, waiting. Daring whatever was out there to come closer.

Nothing.

Finally, with a slow exhale, she turned back toward the fire, pushing down the lingering unease clawing at her chest.

This was only their first night.

And something told her things were only going to get worse.

Chapter Text

Annie couldn’t sleep.

She sat stiffly near the fire, spear clutched tightly in her hands, her knuckles pale from the force of her grip. The jungle beyond their camp stretched out in a wall of impenetrable blackness, shifting with unseen movements. She knew they were there—watching. Waiting.

The flames crackled, casting flickering shadows along the trees, but the light only reached so far. Beyond it lay the unknown. Every rustling leaf, every snapping twig sent a spike of adrenaline through her system. Her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest.

If they wanted to rush the camp, they would have done it already.

So why did they just watch?

Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning every shifting shadow for movement. The spear she’d fashioned was crude—a sharpened branch reinforced with strips of cloth from her vest—but it was better than nothing. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Time dragged. The jungle whispered. The fire burned low.

She stayed up until dawn.

When the first hints of light bled through the trees, Annie finally let out a slow breath. The oppressive weight of the night lifted, though the unease remained. She turned to Kelvin, still curled up in his makeshift bed, oblivious to the dangers that lurked just beyond the fire’s glow.

She grabbed her notepad, scrawling a quick message:

Gather logs. Need bigger shelter. Keep close.

Tearing the page free, she placed it beside him before standing with a groan, her muscles aching from tension and exhaustion. She needed to move—to do something useful.

Leaving Kelvin to his task, Annie ventured into the jungle, following a narrow trail that wound deeper into the foliage. The air was thick, damp, filled with the hum of unseen insects. Her boots sank slightly into the soft earth, and she kept her spear close, every sense alert.

Then she saw it.

A pit—wide and deep, the edges slick with mud. The scent hit her first, a thick, sickly-sweet stench that made her stomach turn. Swallowing hard, she crept closer, peering over the edge.

A mass grave.

Bones jutted out from the earth in a chaotic tangle—some old and bleached by the sun, others still dark with decay. Skulls with hollow, empty sockets stared up at her.

A chill ran down her spine. How many people had died here? How many more would?

Sliding carefully into the pit, she ignored the way her stomach twisted and began searching through the remains. Her fingers brushed over brittle cloth, snapping as she pulled at it. Most of it was useless, rotted through, but she managed to salvage a few scraps of fabric and some rope from a half-buried satchel.

No weapons. No notes. No clues about what had happened here.

Just bones. So many bones.

Climbing back out, she wiped her hands on her pants, trying not to think too hard about what she had just done. She needed to keep moving.

Further along the trail, she found something far more useful—a patch of wild herbs, some of which she recognized from survival training. She plucked them carefully, tucking them into her pouch. A little further ahead, she spotted a perfect spot to set up a rabbit trap, the ground already worn from animal trails.

By the time she trudged back to camp, exhaustion and hunger gnawed at her insides. Every step felt heavier than the last. She needed to sleep. Needed food.

As the clearing came into view, she spotted Kelvin lying in the grass, basking in the morning sun like a content housecat. Nearby, a neat pile of logs stood stacked—he’d done well.

But something else caught her eye. A shape near the tent.

She slowed, her tired mind struggling to process what she was looking at. Then realization hit like a hammer to the gut.

A deer carcass.

Its body was twisted unnaturally, deep gashes carved through its flank. Blood pooled beneath it, fresh and glistening in the light. The throat had been ripped open, flesh jagged where something—someone—had torn into it.

Her pulse spiked.

This wasn’t a kill from a hunter. It was brutal, savage.

She turned sharply toward Kelvin. His eyes were still closed, his chest rising and falling evenly. He hadn’t noticed a thing.

Annie’s fingers tightened around her spear, her breath coming in slow, measured inhales.

Something had been here.
Something had crept into their camp, left this offering, and disappeared without a sound.

And Kelvin—deaf, oblivious—hadn’t even known.

Her stomach twisted as she stared out at the trees, her instincts screaming one thing loud and clear.

They were being watched. Someone was there and they are dangerous.

Chapter Text

Annie’s instincts screamed at her to stay on guard, but she wasn’t about to let fresh meat go to waste. Wariness was a luxury she couldn’t afford when survival was at stake.

With swift, practiced motions, she took out her knife and set to work on the carcass, her stomach already growling at the promise of a real meal. The deer had been left for them—by whom or what, she didn’t know. But for now, it was food.

She carved two thick chunks of meat and tossed them into the glowing embers of the fire, letting them sear. The rest she tied with strips of cloth and hung up on a makeshift drying rack, hoping the smoke from the fire would help preserve it. As the scent of roasting venison filled the air, Annie moved toward the treeline, scanning for anything edible.

She found a cluster of huckleberries growing in the underbrush and plucked a handful, their dark purple skins firm against her fingertips. She hesitated—last thing she needed was to poison herself—but after a brief taste test, she recognized them as safe.

Back at the fire, she crushed a few berries in her fingers, staining them deep red, and sprinkled the juice along with some herbs over the meat. It wasn’t much, but it was better than eating something bland and charred.

Once the food was cooked through, she called out, “Kelvin.”

No response.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. Right. That won’t work.

Glancing around, she spotted him a few yards away, utterly transfixed by a pair of squirrels fighting over a nut. He watched them with an almost childlike fascination, oblivious to the world around him.

Annie approached, waving a hand in his line of sight until he blinked up at her. She gestured toward the food. He nodded and followed her back to the fire.

They ate in silence, tearing into the venison while sipping cautiously at their boiled water. The meal was simple but filling. The warmth in her belly did little to soothe the gnawing unease at the back of her mind, though.

Once they were done, Annie got to work constructing a real shelter.

It took hours, her muscles burning with the effort, but by sunset, they had something sturdier—a rough six-by-six log shelter, barely tall enough to stand in, but it would keep them out of the open. She threw down a layer of bundled grass and leaves, using her vest as a makeshift pillow. Before lying down, she scribbled a note to Kelvin:

Keep fire lit. Wake me if anything happens.

He nodded in understanding, settling in by the fire.

That night was miserable.

Annie shivered violently despite the meager warmth of the fire. The cold seemed to seep into her very bones, robbing her of even the shallowest sleep.

By morning, she’d had enough.

I need real bedding.

She grabbed her spear and set out east, pushing deeper into the wilderness, determined to find something—anything—to make their shelter more livable.

It wasn’t long before she stumbled upon a campsite.

The sight sent a ripple of unease down her spine.

Tents, torn apart. Supplies, scattered. No bodies.

She moved cautiously, stepping over the shredded fabric. The sleeping bags inside were still intact, if a little damp. She snatched them up, stuffing them into her backpack before rummaging through the rest of the site.

More rope. A couple of cans of beer—useless for hydration, but maybe Kelvin would appreciate it. Clothes, some of them bloodstained but still wearable.

She took everything.

More than once, she caught a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye—a shadow, a shape, just at the edge of her vision. Every time she turned to look, nothing.

Her grip tightened around her spear.

But whatever was tailing her never revealed itself.

Not until—snap.

A twig broke behind her.

Annie froze, her breath catching in her throat. She turned slowly toward the sound, muscles coiled tight like a spring.

The forest was deathly silent.

Then—a scream.

Not human but an animal.

A sudden rush of movement ahead. Annie shoved through the underbrush, spear raised—

And then she saw her.

A woman crouched over a dying deer, its body trembling as its final breath left its lungs. Her hands—clawed and unnatural—were coated in blood.

But that wasn’t the strangest thing.

The woman’s body was wrong.

An extra arm dangled above her head, limp but undeniably attached. A third leg, twisted unnaturally, tucked beneath her. Her blue leotard was torn, stained with dirt and old blood, revealing patches of pale skin.

Annie’s breath hitched.

The woman looked up, meeting Annie’s stare.

Her eyes weren’t wild. They weren’t aggressive.

They were… guilty.

Blood dripped from her chin, her lips slightly parted as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

For a long, heavy moment, neither of them moved.

Annie tightened her grip on the spear.

The woman slowly wiped the back of her extra hand across her mouth, smearing the blood along her cheek.

Then, softly—almost uncertainly—she spoke.

“…Hello.”

The woman’s voice was weathered and unused.

Annie stood frozen, heart pounding in her chest. That voice… It struck something deep inside her, something familiar. A memory buried beneath the weight of time and survival.

She had known someone with that voice once. Hadn’t she?

The blonde woman stared up at her, expression pitiful and searching, as if she recognized Annie too but couldn’t quite place from where.

Then, in one swift movement, she hoisted the limp deer over her shoulders.

Annie’s breath hitched as the stranger stood to her full height—taller than any person should be. Lanky yet powerful, her extra limbs shifting unnaturally, adjusting to balance the weight of her kill.

Annie should have been afraid.

This creature was not of this world, not human.

And yet—when she met those sorrowful gray eyes, fear did not come.

Instead, a strange, unsettling sense of familiarity crawled up Annie’s spine.

Annie’s throat was dry, but she forced herself to speak. Her voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“Who are you?”

The woman’s lips parted.

For a moment, it seemed like she might answer.

Then—a rustle in the trees. A distant snap of a branch.

The woman’s head jerked to the side, body tensing. In an instant, she was gone, vanishing into the brush with an inhuman grace, her extra limbs aiding her movement rather than hindering it.

Annie barely had time to process what had happened. The jungle swallowed the woman whole, leaving Annie standing there alone—confused, shaken, and more uncertain than ever.