Chapter Text
A gentle sway of the boat rocked Ford back and forth as he stood, just at the very front of the ship. He stared far away, looking at a digital compass he held in his hand. The screen exhibiting a map had a blinking dot on it just a few miles ahead, captioned ‘Anomaly Detected’ in a garish red text.
“Stanley!” Stanford shouted. Just moments later, Stanley came rushing in at the call. His brow quirked upward when there was seemingly no activity present, just his brother standing there.
“My device has detected an anomaly and a body of land just up ahead. It seems to be an island accompanied by it.” He explained.
“Finally!” Stanley groaned, rubbing his temples. “I was getting tired of running into this many dead ends.”
“I as well,” Ford agreed. “Anyhow, we must go there at once. But be prepared, because we don’t know what is on that island.”
“Ay, ay,” Stanley said mockingly, heading straight for the cabin below. He grabbed a few weapons, such as bullet-proof vests, guns, and a thingamajig that looked like Ford’s making, also resembling a gun. He came upstairs and handed Ford the items, clicking on the vest himself.
Stanford steered the ship exactly straight into the correct coordinates of the island. In just half an hour, the ship wavered more than usual, and there was no storm present.
The sound of a large object bumping the ship was heard, startling Stanley, who was outside scouting the scenery. He let out a startled yelp as he watched an abnormally large shadow near the ship.
He turned his head and saw the beautiful sight of a clean, uninhabited island right in front of them. It’d only take a few more minutes to reach it. He quickly scrambled to pick up the gun and scout for the enemy.
Stanford walked out of the wheelhouse with an alarmed expression. “What was that?”
“I don’t know, but it ain’t no shark!” Stanley said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. He had the gun ready for action, trying to look for the deep blue shadow.
Just as Ford was about to reach for his gun, the creature bumped the ship again, this time with more force that destabilized the Pines twins. There was a roar of wood crackling and splintering. They shouted in fear as the Stan O' War started rocking back and forth more violently.
“Stanley, look!” Ford pointed. Stanley’s eyes whipped to their destination, and it looked like they were nearly there, except it was headed straight for a rocky cliff.
Stanley ran straight into the wheelhouse, and just as he was about to steer, the ship shook the most it ever had. He felt the floor beneath him drop, and the despairing noise of more damage being brought upon the ship was heard through the open door.
He tried to stand up, now panicking. With just one more step, he looked up and saw nothing but rock.
The blaring, hot sun bored into the skin of the two men. Stanley was carrying Ford, who was limp, yet still awake. With a sigh of relief, he drops him onto the sand, tired from all the commotion.
With bleary eyes, Ford looks at the Stan O' War. The front of the ship had collided with the rock, damaging the structure as well as causing a few dents on the sides, seemingly from the monster that attacked them.
“The ship! That thing cost so much money!” Stan shouts.
“We’ll fix it. It’s minor damage, honestly. More importantly, what on earth attacked us?!” Ford said, lifting himself up with a grunt of pain. He looked down at himself; there were no signs of harm, so he figured he was only bruised.
Stanley chose to stay lying on the sand, heaving his breath from exhaustion. “I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look.”
“Neither did I.” Ford hums to himself, starting to look around on the island.
“It looks like we’re going to be stranded for a while, at least until we get the ship fixed.”
“It’s not like we have anything better to do,” Stanley says bitterly, catching a glimpse of Ford suddenly running off along the beach.
With a slow pace, Stanley managed to catch up. Ford’s eyes were widened with amazement and curiosity, a look that could be drawn into a picture by memory at this point.
“It says SOS,” Ford says wistfully, now looking at their surroundings for any signs of life.
“Uh oh, we’re not alone?” Stanley asks, scanning too. The island was your typical, tropical, small island. It wasn’t entirely striking or interesting, except for the looming rocky cliffs on one side.
“We need to search for whoever wrote this immediately.” Ford decides, tensing up to leave.
Stanley puts a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa, hold on. What about our ship? Food and water? You know, our needs for survival? Let’s put ourselves first.” He takes a pause, gesturing with his other hand to the sign. “Plus, you have no idea when this was written!”
Ford looks at his expression and then sighs, his heart sinking at the desperation of the situation. The two of them were essentially limited in resources here for the meantime, but were they in such a rush? The new discoveries of the island haunted him, but he gave in to his brother’s wishes.
“I suppose we can look for food while we search for the writer.” Ford offers.
Stanley, about to argue, takes one more glance at the boat. Any stored food on the ship was bound to be completely soggy. At least it was so hot that there was no point in wearing clothes anymore.
“I guess.” He shrugs.
Stanley and Stanford searched the beach, coming to find a dead firepit and a piece of clothing lying beside it. They also looked into the overgrowth of the rainforest areas, looking for anything to eat. Stanley pointed out some mysterious berries, but Ford told him they were poisonous before he could get his hands on them.
After an evening of exploration and messing around, they returned to the beach, lying underneath the fading sky. Even with the night approaching, it was still unbearably hot. Both of the men took off their shirts and left only their shorts on, leaving them beside the dead firepit.
Stanford took his shoes off and set them beside his other side. He looks up at the twilight sky, breathing in the humid, salty air. Stanley shuffles himself to try to get comfortable, but it isn’t easy sleeping cozily on the ground.
“Hey, are you sure nothing is going to eat us while we sleep out here in the open like this?” He asks, slightly unnerved at the darkness inside the forest. “Like, any predators?”
“Should we go somewhere else? Perhaps there’s a cave nearby.”
“It’s too dark to go looking for one now.” Stan scoffs.
Stanford looks up at the stars, scattering the sky so brightly. It was always nice to see the night sky again upon his return.
He dives into his pocket and takes out his digital compass.
“This will alert us with a loud beep if an anomaly or other entity comes close.” He explains, digging it into the sand right above them.
“Oh, yeah, that helps.” Stan smiles at him.
“Goodnight, Stan.” Ford smiles back, turning on his side away from him.
“Goodnight, Sixer.”
Ford couldn’t fall asleep right away. His mind reeled with questions of the mysterious refugee on the island. He could assume it was human, especially because SOS is unique to humankind; however, Stan was right. He couldn’t infer the time it was written, but some kind of weather event must’ve eroded it by now if it were written a while ago.
Like any other night, Ford is left with questions, theories, educated guesses, and fantasies in mind. He could only guess what this island was awaiting for him.
You walk along the beach, the side of the island that you haven’t revisited in about three days, which is what your tally’s told you anyway. Your tally marks on a stone wall that you’ve kept record of ever since you were deserted here. It’s been five months now, five months after unintentionally marooning yourself by wanting to go off-grid and losing your boat in the process. Your boat was torn apart and broken by a creature you’ve come to name, “Gertrude.” You’ve never actually seen it before, but seen the body if you traveled too far out into the water. It scared you so badly that you were unsure you could make it out of the island, now devoid of human connection and many solutions for a way out.
The sky is a pale, morning blue. It’s hot like any other day. Suddenly, you spot a figure in your peripheral vision.
Your heart stops as your eyes immediately jump to recognize a body lying on the beach. It looks like an unconscious, older man. You haven’t seen another human in a long time, so you weren’t allowed to be picky about who you interact with, but just in case…
You look around and spot a large, thick stick. You carry it with you, quietly walking toward the man to get a closer look.
Just as you were about to get close enough to touch, a loud beeping went off, the loudest kind of noise you’ve ever heard in a while. You drop the stick and cover your ears, stepping back away from whatever caused it.
The man shoots up from his slumber and whirls his body around, quickly putting on a pair of geometric glasses and immediately spotting you, frozen in fear.
He doesn’t hesitate to get up and come forward to you. Your heart leaps out of your chest as you back away, picking up the stick again and readying it for a good swing.
Would a good swing do any real good against a middle-aged man with a hunky build, scars, and tattoos scattered all over his body? Your eyes search his figure and face, trying to figure him out just as he looks like he’s doing the same with you.
He looks like he could tear you apart. He looks like he could be a thug! But his expression gives a way of stupid surprise, and his glasses certainly soften his frame as well.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He says, eyes distracted, but raising his arms up in submission. You furrow your brows in worry at him. “Are you the one who wrote SOS on this beach?”
Your eyes widen, and your chest is hurting from the emotional whiplash of suddenly being in proximity with another person, even after so long of not even hearing the voice of another human but your own. You were painfully lonely, but now you’re right in front of one.
“I am…” You say, disconcerted. Your throat tightens like rose vines are entangling it, and you suddenly drop the stick.
“I’m Stanford Pines, I’m sorry to have spooked you with my device here. How… How long have you been here?” He asks, his face sympathetic.
“I…” Your voice trails, feeling strange by the usage of it. You couldn’t even believe it. You thought you’d never find someone again.
Tears stream down your cheeks. You raise your hands up to cup your face out of embarrassment, relief, any emotion that is jumbled with the rest. Stanford squirms, unsure of how to respond at first. He looks at the pitiful sight of you, clearly unkept and looking unwell.
You feel his muscular body wrap around yours in an embrace. The human touch felt so blissful, you didn’t even care if it was from a shirtless stranger. You cry into his chest as he mutters unintelligible things and places his hand on your back.
He clears his throat awkwardly, however, he doesn’t leave the embrace. “How long have you been here?”
“Five months.” Your voice shook with sobs.
Five months echoed in his mind. He immediately gained insight of what the problem was. You were alone. His heart immediately ached in grief for you, for what person could completely relate if not him? He had gotten used to not seeing any humans for thirty years, but the beginning of it was by far the worst.
He chooses to slightly tighten his arms around you, now rubbing your back soothingly. A few moments later, you stop crying and let go. You see him stand in front of you, clearly concerned, and his chest dampened from your tears.
You’re now feeling embarrassed again. “I’m so sorry… it’s just… I haven’t—”
“Seen anybody in a long time?” He asks softly.
You nod, swallowing hard. A beat of silence goes on between the two of you as you both ponder what the next right thing to do is.
“Stanford!” A voice calls from faraway. You're shocked, more so than ever before, when a nearly exact copy of this man—Stanford, whom you just met, appears right next to his side. It’s his twin, is what your common sense immediately tells you.
He smiles at you, with a mix of stunned and weary. “Is this that person you were looking for?”
“Yes, Stanley.” Ford replies annoyedly, quite distracted with the matter of the novel situation. You.
The situation just kept getting weirder to you. “There’s two of you here?”
“Yes. We have come here on a mission. To look for an anomaly.” Stanford starts. “I believe we have encountered it already, but…” He looked behind him and in the distance, there was a wrecked ship, nearly fully sunken.
Your brows raise at the sight. All you saw was a real chance to go home. You were ready to jump on solutions.
“The creature is still out there—”
“We can repair the ship.” Stanley interjects.
Stanford continues. “We can repair the ship, yes, but first we need to deal with that monster. Have you seen it before? Can you tell us anything about it?”
“Wait,” you say. “Are you two researchers?”
“Yes and no.” Stanley shrugs. “My brother here is the nerdy guy, I’m just here for the adventure and the bonding time.”
A faint, embarrassed flush appears on Stanford’s cheeks. “Anyways, yes. I am a scientist researching the weird and abnormal in this world. This happened to be our next stop. It’s quite fortunate we crossed paths with you. We need all the help we can get.”
A spark of rage ignited within you. Was that their only agenda in regards to you being here?
“I’d love to, but I really just want to get out of here.” You reply.
Stanford clicks his tongue, sheepish. “Our only ticket out is to study this creature so there are no further calamities. The best option is to wait a little bit longer.”
A burning sensation rose in your throat, but you shook off the disappointment. It was already a more than ideal situation, being with researchers who own a boat… a broken one. Alas, what more is a few days on this island?
“So, how long do you think we're going to be here?” Stanley asks Stanford, scratching his face.
He pauses in thought. “My estimation would be… a week or two, give or take.”
“Great. Best we can do is to get settled in while we’re at it.” Stanley wraps a friendly arm around you, sparking an outraged expression from Stanford. “Are you going to be our tour guide, Champ?”
Your face fell with a tone of disappointment and irritation. Maybe you got your hopes up too soon.