Part 1-11
Part 12-20 and additional images. Patreon version of Island 2
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For the next few days, Stephen took the lead in ensuring their survival. He built a makeshift shelter using debris from the plane and large palm leaves he found in the jungle. Each day, he would venture into the dense foliage to gather food and look for a freshwater source, returning with whatever he could find—coconuts, wild fruits, and sometimes small fish he caught using makeshift traps he’d created.
Meanwhile, Lawrence spent most of his time lounging on the beach, complaining about the lack of comfort. “This is ridiculous, Stephen!” Lawrence would whine, sprawled out on the sand like a petulant child. “How much longer do we have to be here? I want to go home and take a hot bath!"
Stephen tried to stay patient, confident that the parents of this disgraced idiot had already hired the entire Pacific fleet to find him. "We’re lucky to be alive, Lawrence," he said, tired of his whining and already starting to get angry "Be thankful for what you have."
'This is insane,' Lawrence thought as he watched Stephen work. 'He acts like I owe him a damn medal or something. Maybe his ego is bruised from his little failure as a pilot.' He smirked. "Maybe the crash happened because you aren't a good enough pilot," he teased, hoping his barbs would get a reaction from him.
Stephen’s patience was wearing thin. Every time Lawrence complained and made selfish comments, it took all his self-control not to lash out. 'If you were stranded alone on this island, you'd be dead within a week,' Stephen thought, his jaw clenching. 'Spoiled brat has no idea what real hardship is.'
It was already the fifth day of their stay when Stephen was out foraging along the beach and stumbled upon something peculiar sticking out of the sand. It was a small, sleek remote control, half-buried and covered in seaweed. He picked it up, brushing off the debris, and examined it closely. It had no brand or markings, just a series of strange symbols on the buttons.
'What the hell is this?' he thought, turning it over in his hands. It looked out of place, almost like it didn’t belong on this world at all. He pressed one of the buttons out of curiosity, but nothing happened. 'Hmm, weird thing.' he thought, slipping it into his pocket.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Stephen sat by the fire he had built, his mind still on the mysterious remote. Lawrence, predictably, was sulking nearby, staring out at the ocean with a forlorn expression.