Somewhere far away, on an island not marked on any map, Jacob stood beneath a red sky.
He was shirtless. His body had changed, leaner, stronger, hardened by survival. Faint scars lined his arms and chest, quiet proof of the years he had endured.
His bow was raised. The string pulled tight.
Before him stood a creature.
It was not a wild boar. Not a bear.
It had too many legs. Its body was hunched and heavy, and its skull looked like stone. There were no eyes. Just cracks where eyes should be.
Jacob narrowed his gaze.
He didn't breathe. He didn't blink.
Then…
Thwang!
The arrow shot straight into the monster's head.
Right between the cracks.
It fell without a sound.
Jacob lowered the bow.
He didn't flinch.
Three years ago, he would've screamed. Now, he just breathed out… and walked forward.
—------
Three Years Ago
The sky cracked open with thunder.
Rain poured down from every side. The waves were too strong. People yelled. The ship made loud sounds. Flames lit up the water.
Then, black.
Jacob woke up half-buried in wet sand. His body was cold. His head hurt.
His shoes were gone. His hands were shaking.
There was no one else.
Just the sound of the waves.
No phone. No radio. No flare gun.
Only forest. And silence.
The first three days were the worst, Jacob thought he was going to die.
Not from weird creatures there.
But from hunger. From the cold. From loneliness.
He ate bitter roots that made his stomach twist.
He drank rainwater from leaves.
He wrapped his arms around himself at night and tried not to cry.
There were nights he heard growling nearby.
Not dogs. Not wolves. Something else.
Something that scraped the trees as it passed.
"This island isn't right," he thought.
"Not just remote. Not just forgotten.
Something's… wrong here."
Still… he didn't give up.
He kept walking.
Sometimes he heard Ava's voice.
Sometimes he heard Nazi's laugh.
But they weren't there.
Then He found a cave near a cliff, deep enough to stay dry when it rained.
There was a freshwater stream nearby.
"Just one more day," he whispered to himself. "I just need to last one more day."
—----
The morning came, quiet and red.
Jacob stepped out of the cave, his stomach growling, his body sore. He looked around, hoping to find anything, fruit, fish, even bugs.
Then something moved.
Quick. Silent. Like a shadow sliding across the rocks.
Jacob's eyes widened.
He didn't think.
He dove to the side.
The beast was huge, low to the ground, with a body like a lizard but claws like hooks. Its eyes glowed a dull yellow. Its back was covered in bone-like plates.
He scrambled backward, heart pounding.
The creature slashed.
Its claws tore through bark like paper.
Jacob raised his arm just in time. Pain exploded across his forearm. Blood.
He didn't remember how he escaped.
Only that he ran.
Fell.
Then ran again.
He made it to the stream and jumped in.
The beast didn't follow.
He lay there, soaked and bleeding, staring at the gray sky.
"I should've died," he whispered.
But he didn't.
That night, he couldn't sleep.
The pain in his arm burned. The fever started.
He chewed bitter leaves to dull it.
Wrapped the wound with strips of cloth from his old shirt.
For two days, he didn't move.
But when the fever broke… something in him changed.
—----
He gathered wood.
Not for a fire.
For a weapon.
He shaped a handle from dark hardwood.
Sharp stone for a blade.
Strips of vine to hold it tight.
Crude. But strong.
He carved two names into the handle with the tip of a nail.
"Ava"
"Nazi"
He traced the letters with his finger.
"Every day," he whispered, "I have to earn my chance to see them again."
—---
He stopped waiting to be hunted.
He became the hunter.
Not to win.
Not for pride.
But to survive.
He made traps, nooses from vines, pits with sharpened sticks.
He learned how to lure them.
How to outsmart them.
Some beasts, he avoided.
Some, he killed.
And when he had to… he ate them.
He stopped thinking about taste.
Stopped thinking about what they used to be.
Food was food.
Then, the training began.
He didn't plan it. It just… started.
He used tree branches for pull-ups.
Ran through thick mud to build his legs.
Jumped over logs, rolled under branches, trained balance and speed.
He fired arrows until his fingers bled.
Then he made better arrows.
One day, a serpent-creature found his cave.
Its mouth opened sideways.
Its skin shimmered with a strange green glow.
Jacob grabbed his broken spear and lit the tip on fire.
He didn't scream.
He didn't back down.
The fight was short.
Messy.
Painful.
He killed it.
But not before it clawed his ribs.
Deep.
He dragged himself to the cave.
For a week, he burned with fever.
He dreamed of Ava's face. Nazi's laugh.
Sometimes, he heard them calling him.
He woke up shaking.
But again, he was alive.
Pain made him sharp.
Hunger made him ruthless.
Time made him… different.
He didn't smile anymore.
He didn't speak unless he had to.
The man he used to be, funny, kind, soft, gentle, felt like someone else now.
"Maybe no one ever found me here… because I wasn't meant to leave."
He stood under the moonlight, gripping the weapon he carved.
The names on the handle were worn but still clear.
"I'm still coming home," he said softly. "No matter what this place is."
—-----
And that was how it began.
Three years of surviving.
Three years of fighting.
Of learning how to live when the world felt like it forgot him.
Now, it was time.
The jungle was behind him.
The scars were already part of him.
And the ocean, no matter how wide, could not stop him anymore.
The creature's body was heavy. Its skin thick, hard to cut.
But Jacob worked quietly, with focus.
He removed what meat he could. Wrapped it in leaves. Stored it in a small basket made of woven reeds.
Nothing wasted.
His hands were steady.
By now, they always were.
The raft waited by the shore.
It was rough, but strong. Logs tied with thick vines. A small raised platform in the center to keep supplies dry. No sail. Just a long pole and his arms to paddle.
Jacob checked everything one more time.
Water, sealed in clay jars.
Dried meat.
His carved weapons.
A stone knife tied to his belt.
Spare rope.
He placed a small figure at the center of the raft.
It was made of driftwood.
A boy's shape, with short hair and tiny carved eyes.
The name "Nazi" was etched across its chest.
Jacob knelt beside it.
He touched the top of its head, then closed his eyes.
"You'll see your papa again. I promised."
He kissed the figure gently. Then tied it in place with a thin strip of cloth.
The sun had not yet risen.
The sky was quiet and gray.
The wind smelled of salt.
He pushed the raft into the water.
It rocked slightly, but held.
He climbed aboard and took the pole in his hands.
He did not look back right away.
He paddled for a while, steady and silent.
Only when the jungle began to fade behind mist did he stop and turn.
Trees. Shadows. Smoke from last night's fire.
And something deeper. Something that had never wanted him to leave.
He stared at it without fear.
"You tried to kill me," he said softly, "and I'm still standing."
"I'll survive the ocean, too."
He tightened his grip on the pole.
"Because I have something stronger than whatever you are…"
He looked down at the little figure tied to the raft. Then into the horizon.
"…I have them."
The raft drifted forward.
Toward the unknown.
Toward home.