Dead or Alive?

CHAPTER 1: “Stop it! Let me go! Take me back to my Mom!” Angela screamed, flinging her arms and legs all over, biting at air, trying to free herself. The kidnapper pulled Angela across the deck of the ship, trying to control her flailing body. She fought with all her strength, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the man’s bulky build, muscled arms, and stern face. His long graying beard hung, tickling Angela’s rosy cheeks. It was early morning and his sharp eyes ran over the scenery at the island where he was dumping the girl as the wind rumpled his checkered rag shirt and patched jeans. * * * Angela sat, alone, on the deserted island. She was out of tears, but the leftover salt on her moist checks made her want to cry some more. Little trickles of water still slid down her saddened face, as she tried to organize her jumbled thoughts and emotions. She was already homesick, missing her mom and her pet cat, LuLu. She felt like she was going to be sick. Uh-oh, she realized. She was going to be sick. She raced over to the edge of the island and threw up in the rippling water. She was disgusted, and scolded herself to stop acting childish. “I need to figure out how to survive, instead of feeling sorry for myself.” She said aloud, thoughtfully, to one of the trees. It rustled in the breeze, as if replying Yes, you do, Angelina. That evening, Angela sat around the fire that she had sparked using sticks, rocks, and rusty knowledge from her young Girl Scout days. Even though she was scared, lonely, and sad, she was very proud that she had been able to provide warmth for herself with no help. Earlier, the sun had shone down constantly, but the warmth had taken a dramatic change and now was cold enough to chill ones bones. As she nibbled on the apple she had found in one of the trees, she inspected her pink and green striped fingernails. One of the edges was chipped. She sighed. Even though she was alone on the island, she still considered her looks a top priority. Angela was the type of girl who was popular in school, had loads of friends (boyfriends, too) and never really took her education seriously. But, she realized, now her knowledge would be put to the test. She wished she had paid more attention in Mrs. Bloke’s humdrum survival class. A blow of harsh wind came, whipping Angela’s curly, blond hair (with brown highlights) all around. It wrinkled her designer shirt, sweater, and snug, dark ripped jeans. She had bright orange slip-on sandals with sequences. Angela had a plump, curved body but was very tall. She most always wore a blinding smile, sparkling jewel-green eyes, high cheekbones, and a cute baby doll nose. She had stunning posture, never slumped, and walked with confidence in her long stride. But even though most people and school hated her and were jealous of her stunning looks and popularity, she had always been silently suffering. She had always been lonely in her heart, even though she was the “most glamorous, most perfect girl” in the 8th grade. Classmates admired her. Teachers despised her. Angela’s mom had given birth to her when she was only 17, and since then Angela’s mom had never gotten married. Angie had no idea who her dad was, and her mom had never bothered to talk about him with her. Well, actually, she had never bothered to discuss much of anything with her daughter. Her mom, Sherri, was never single and dated 24/7. She always said that she was in “love” with a guy, and was going to get married, but a few days later the relationship would end. Sherri was never really home, either. She stayed out all night, partying. Sometimes she would get in trouble with the police for inappropriate behavior, mostly at bars where she spent the late night and early morning drinking. Angela had made a promise to herself when she was 6 years old that she would never be like her mother. She would get married after she went to college, be a good model for her kids, and love and care for them. While her mom was out, Angela had to live by herself. She grew up with packaged, junky dinners. She would chat online with people she didn’t know. She would call her friends on the phone and talk for hours. She would get a ride with her friends older siblings to parties. Through all this she was never really happy, just putting on an act. She told her friends that she was glad her mom was never home, because then she got to do whatever she wanted to. The only person who was her real friend was her loyal cat, LuLu. LuLu would always listen to Angela pour her heart out, while she sat there licking her paws. Angela loved LuLu more than anything, maybe even her mom. She was sitting on a rock, her butt freezing cold, while she flashed back on her life. Now, that was behind her. Just thinking about never going back home brought tears to her eyes. Angie knew that her mom loved her, even though she did not act like it. And Angie loved her mom, too. She had thought that every kid grew up like she did, until she went to a kindergarten slumber party. There, she saw the different parenting given to her friend, Ema, and saw that she was the one brought up differently. As she was deep in thought, she drifted off into a deep sleep, tired from the day’s events. Angela awoke as a sudden wave of chills came upon Angela’s smooth, pale skin. She glanced around. There was no breeze at the time. She had the feeling that someone was watching her. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, got up and wandered around the perimeter of the island. It was probably around 7 acres of land. There was one main clump of trees right smack dab in the center of the island, but many other fruit trees were scattered about. The entire ground was covered in sand, except on the very edge of the shore where it was more mud than sand. The view was magnificent. You could see for miles and miles in every direction, with a path of greenish blue sparkling water leading the way. She could barely make out any land, although she thought that she could see another island way out. So far, she hadn’t seen or heard any animal life. As she came to a bend, a few bushes blocking her view of the corner, she heard a rustling noise. She swore she had seen some leaves rustle, and there was no wind. Probably just my imagination, she thought. A low growling pierced the silence, and her heart skipped a beat. She took caution as she dared herself to step out to the other side. She closed her eyes and counted to three. 1, 2,…… Before she could reach three, she was pushed back by a strong force. She heard fierce growling, and felt sharp things ripping into her skin as she lay on the sandbank. A root was jutting into her side. She smelt bad breath and slobber dripping from the thing on top of her. Angela opened her eyes. There, right on top of her, stood a dog. It had a fierce look, or was at least angry. It growled, and looked ready to rip Angela apart. Its eyes were the most horrifying sight she had ever seen. They were filled with anger and the need to protect something. Protect something? But what? Angie puzzled over the first thought that had popped into her head when she had seen the dog’s eyes. She knew the look of guarding in animals eyes, because she had seen it many times before when she had tried to touch LuLu’s ears. LuLu was kind to the bone, except when it came to petting her ears. This dog was here for a reason. The need to protect and guard something. But what would need protecting on an abandoned island?