[ WP ] You 've been drifting at sea for 20 days , and you 're beginning to wonder if leaving the island was such a great idea .

They were just a lonely speck on the azure expanse which stretched towards infinity. 
 
 The sun pelted mercilessly down on their tiny makeshift vessel as it bobbed and swayed on the gentle tide. The tarp they had used as cover against the burning rays was long gone, ripped away in a storm which had almost torn apart their rude craft. The last of the rainwater they had gathered then had been finished off two days ago, and without any food or water they had no choice but to slowly desiccate. 
 
 Bob raised his right arm to shade his eyes. He was no longer surprised by its thinness. Twenty days of being confined in a cramped and unstable surface without proper sustenance had caused his muscles to atrophy. He turned feebly to Rich who lay motionless across from him. He would nudge him every hour or so to make sure he was still breathing, his response being a guttural moan of protest. 
 
 “ You still alive there, Richie Boy? ” 
 
 Rich stirred, his eyes squinting against the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. The skin on his cheeks was raw and peeling and he winced in pain as he attempted to moisten his cracked lips. 
 
 “ Don ’ t make me talk. I ’ m having a hard enough time maintaining my sanity. ” 
 
 He rubbed his eyes and raised his upper body slightly to look out at the ocean. 
 
 “ All this damned water and I can ’ t even quench my thirst. ” 
 
 “ Don ’ t even try it Richie Boy, unless you wannna hurl whatever fluid you got left. ” 
 
 Rich dipped his hand into the water let it trail across the surface. He cupped a handful and stared at it morosely before using it to wash his face and skull. A thin coating of salt covered his hair and reinforced his decrepitude. 
 
 `` Y ’ know Bobby, I ’ m starting to think leaving the island was a very bad idea. ” 
 
 Bob chuckled faintly, shaking his head. “ Either that or live like a couple of pygmies on that worthless lump of sand for the rest of our miserable lives. It ’ s been almost two months since we ’ ve been stranded and I ’ m already fantasizing about killing you. If I had to stay on that island any longer I would ’ ve skinned you alive. ” 
 
 “ The feeling ’ s mutual, jerkoff. Great plan of yours by the way, ‘ Oh we ’ re bound to find help if we sail for long enough, the sea isn ’ t really that wide, ’ I shoulda let you push out on your own to die out here. I could ’ ve been sitting by the fire having barbequed monkey and laughing about your moronic ass. ” 
 
 “ If you got a problem then make a move. I ’ m sitting right here ready for ya. ” 
 
 They scowled across at each other, too malnourished to make good on their empty threats. Bob eyed the knapsack which sat between them. It carried the crumbs of the meagre rations they ’ d depleted five days ago along with some tools. 
 
 “ I think it ’ s time we executed Plan B. ” 
 
 Rich paled, but nodded resolutely. “ You think you ’ re game Bobby? ” 
 
 “ You know I am you sumbitch. You gon na dance around it all day twinkletoes or are we gon na start? ” 
 
 They both raised their right hands as if they were testifying and took a steadying breath. 
 
 “ On my count, Richie boy… One, two, three! ” 
 
 As the final count escaped Bob ’ s lips their hands descended like lightning from the heavens, terminating their respective arcs at chest level. The sea maintained an eerie silence, as if nature itself stood awestruck at the outcome of their contest. There was no uncertainty regarding the identity of the victor. By the time the sun bled its last crimson rays across the water the contract between the two men was satisfied. 
 
 It was only a week later that the cargo ship sighted the directionless vessel aimlessly floating across the ocean. The captain thought it to be a trick of the eye, a mirage conjured up by the hypnotic swaying of the waves and a hangover from the previous night ’ s imbibing of cheap rum. But as the ship moved closer and closer he could see that it was no illusion. He immediately sent out a party to investigate. 
 
 The sailors on-board the rescue boat were horrified by what they discovered. The lone survivor lay in a pool of gore, his face and extremities haggard and worn to the bone. His stomach however was unnaturally bloated. The full and unkempt beard which covered the lower half of his face was thick with congealed blood. They were too afraid to touch him, their ocean superstitions prescribing a demonic aspect to his horrific visage, but at the urging of the medical officer they gathered him up and brought him back to the ship. 
 
 He lay comatose in the doctor ’ s cabin for five days as he was treated intravenously to replenish his fluids. When he regained consciousness he was confused and disoriented, unable to respond to any queries except to confirm his first name. His eyes carried the haunted look of the tortured sinner and the others avoided him with dread. He spent most of his time in his own room, his only visitor the medical officer who checked in irregularly with vain attempts at getting him to reveal more information regarding the mysterious circumstances in which he was discovered. The officer was unsuccessful and eventually gave up, prescribing a mild sedative to help him sleep before leaving him to his own devices. 
 
 His slumber was erratic and filled with nightmares. He raved constantly, his cryptic mutterings speaking of a contract executed with blood, a rock and a pair of scissors. 

