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Cell phones don’t work on the island. That’s okay. Jonas has a walkie-talkie.
Just the one.
Alex might have the other. Or the same one. He can’t know. He just knows that she’s there, channel 18, and that she thinks that this will work. He also knows that she exists. Which is… well, it’s a step in the right direction, at least. Better than the rest of them.
It took a while to figure it out. The better part of three months, actually. And then there was the planning, the petty larceny, the trespassing, the lying to his dad and stashing the truck and hiding out on the island, killing time.
She wasn’t always there.
There were minutes, hours, days, that channel 18 was empty. But then there were times - usually nights, because of course all the spooky shit happened at night - that she came in clear. Clearer than she’d ever been in his car, or his alarm, or the clock in the kitchen. And he could talk back.
On the island, she’s clearer than ever.
“What if I don’t see it?” It’s 9pm, and somehow still twilight as he clambers down the cliffs. That's August for you.
There’s a crackle. “Just start tuning anyway.”
“Are you…” He has to let go of the button for a moment, the little chirp of a finished message, before he regains his footing on flat land again and continues, “-are you sure?”
Another chirrup, this time from her end. Just a little tritone ping. Maybe it’s the equivalent of a shrug, or a sigh, or - based on what he kinda sorta sometimes remembers of her - a wry bit of laughter. “Jonas; what’s the worst that could happen?”
He holds down the button, “Well, for one-”
“What could happen that’s worse than what’s already happened?”
That shouldn’t be possible. That she can interrupt while he’s still transmitting. Then again, everything to do with Alex has been impossible.
He hops the fence, touches down on the other side. His memories of his first night on the island swim uncertainly in his mind. Moments skip and restart and seem jumbled up and out of order, all fuzzed like static around the edges.
She has a point. Even if he can think of several more things that could go wrong.
“…Okay.”
His footsteps slow outside the cave. Sand is extra crunchy under his boots, picked just in case this ends up being another night of unplanned hiking. The three stacks of rocks wait patiently, and he wonders how they’re still standing. Why didn't they kick them over when this happened the first time? Or had someone built them up again?
It’s like Alex can sense his hesitation. Channel 18 pings a half-signal. A message comes through, but she’s silent for a second. She’s there, though. He knows she’s there. “…Do you trust me?”
This is so incredibly stupid. He shouldn’t have come alone. He should’ve brought everyone else. But Alex had said… No Michael. She’d asked for no Michael, which meant no Clarissa, which meant no Nona which meant no Ren. That left Jonas. Just Jonas. Alone. Alex had asked.
And he followed.
Following Alex and trying not to die. It feels fitting in a darkly humorous kind of way.
“Yeah.” Jonas sighs. Channel 18 is silent. He transmits again. “Yeah, I do.”
There’s a soft static, another half ping. Once more she’s silent on the open line, like she’s holding her breath. Her tone is softer when she finally speaks. “…See you soon.”