#willieshaw

Water was the imperative. Will had gone an immeasurable amount of time without it (approximately 18 hours and counting). He kept going for his skin hoping it might have magically refilled - because that was how the island worked. It felt like he’d skirted around the edge of the same ruined old shelter half a dozen times (it had been 8 so far). Until he finally diverged off the same lucid path and took a fresh one. Pulled forwards by no sense of logic or reason. 

It was somewhere here that Willie heard a whistle through the trees. Snap of dried vines underfoot. “Ay’up…” He called, cautiously quiet to test the waters. “Don’t like being snuck up on…” 

—

Harry always took interest in the footsteps of solo travellers, an aching, battered hope weakly fluttering in her chest. It had been too long now, a long time ago she would have been able to know John's footsteps immediately, a familiar gait that had stepped next to her for decades. Now, now she couldn't be sure. 

She had a sinking feeling it wasn't John, the footsteps too big, heavy and unsteady. Quietly, Harry approached, until she saw the figure through the trees. Christ he was a giant, he looked a little delirious too, the way Sisco could get without sun. Harry gritted her teeth together, swallowing the disappointment, when she misstepped. Her foot cracked a dry branch and the man was agitated now, a warning note to his voice. Harry sighed, weighing up her options. She didn't like the thought of a big fellow like him chasing her down, convinced she meant ill. So, Harry swallowed her pride and turned back to the man, louder now as she approached so he wouldn't be spooked. 

"What do you eat, then?" Harry asked as she came into his view, warily eyeing him up. "Horses?" she supplied. 

—

Through the depths of the trees came a voice and like a lucid hallucination Willie thought this was all part of the jungle’s bit. He wasn’t expecting his newly committed follower to reveal themselves so thoroughly. It were a woman, she was slight but by no means titchy. Took Willie a second to process what she was asking, her question hanging between them for a solid minute as his slurried brain tried to catch up. Once she supplied a possible answer, Willie laughed, deep and rough around the edges. “Not wrong but ain’t no horses here…” It had been a long time and truth be told, no-one had wanted to eat the family horse.

“You’s…real?” Will asked tentatively, not sure if what he was seeing was a result of no sleep, and very little water. He had a feeling that she wasn’t a figment of his imagination because surely, surely, he’d be envisioning someone familiar. Not just a jungle hag, as pretty as she may have been underneath the smear of dirt. “You have any water?” This came out as a plead, his desperation overweighing his pride, not that Will had ever been overly concerned with that. 

—

Time would tell if Harry had made a poor decision in revealing herself to this stranger. At least for now he appeared rather harmless, disorientated maybe, but not a dangerous sort of desperate. He laughed loudly, which was jarring to Harry, so used to the relative quiet of the jungle, undisturbed by human sound. She hummed as he took her opening jest well, a rare occurrence indeed, when Harry’s gruff nature paired perfectly with a dry opener.

“Last time I checked,” Harry supplied to his question, wishing that she weren’t real in that moment, so she could slip away like a wisp through the trees. The sheer size of him made Harry uncomfortable. Harry, who wasn’t a small woman (though she was slight), disliked the imposing shadow of this stranger nonetheless. Harry sighed as he asked her for water, sucking on her teeth. She disliked the thought of hanging around him for any longer than necessary, but Harry still had a heart, as caked in bitterness and dirt as it was. She reached into the side of her pack, pulled her canteen from its pocket and threw it towards the man, not wanting to get any closer than necessary. “I want the canteen back,” she curtly told him, waiting for him to have his fill. 

“There are streams that way,” Harry said, inclining her head to the side. “You’ll only last three days without water.”

—

She was real. She also tossed him a flask of water which was more than Will could ever have asked for. He immediately scrambled in the dirt for it as she hadn’t come close enough to pass the canteen over. Whilst she informed him there was streams that way with an incline of her head, he nearly missed all of it furiously unscrewing the lid to chug down as much water as he could handle. It started dribbling down the side of his lips as he couldn’t drink fast enough, but still wanted more. “Heavens…” He spluttered, now leant over as if to catch his breath canteen still in hand along with the lid. “You’s a miracle ducky…” He’d thought it would be death’s calling for him, finally. Would explain why his ears had been ringing incessantly.

Not that Will would’ve minded, save for the fact the thirst was making him go doolally. His mind wasn’t instantaneously crystal clear, but he did feel better for it. Will inched ever so slightly closer as he screwed the lid back on again. “I don’t recognise you’s…” Will said, eyeing her up again with consideration now that the immediate issue of water was a none-issue. She hadn’t come from his throng of people so perhaps she was a part of this jungle – Will had met a few like that.

“I mean’s no harm ducky…just gotten myself lost…” In a sense, yes, he was hopelessly lost. But if Willie tried it was not impossible for him to scour the way out back though the blasted tunnels. Only he wasn’t sure what was left to go back to. “You’s really real, aren’t you…” He reiterated as if he had only finally heard her answer from minutes ago, Will approached and regrettably did as he always did. Clapped a large rough hand to her shoulder without asking first if it was even okay. “You’re a goo–-”

—

It was an ordinary, good day. Harry warmed herself by the fire, her fingers turning red and toasty from the heat. Mum was curled up in her arm chair, making a point of carding the wool, a task she was hoping Harry would help her with. Uncle was by his seat in the corner, wrapped up in his throws, listening to the music on the radio. Her cousin was out with friends, and John was still at school. Harry pulled a thick envelope from her jacket and slid into the side table, enjoying this little moment of peace; her mum, scratching wool back and forth the combs, uncle humming along to a swing tune. She opened the envelope, hungrily reading the notes and key points John had sent her, to help review the essay inside.

There was a loud crack from the fireplace, a series of short pops and a mean hiss. The noise barely registered with Harry at first, engrossed in the world of native grasses and nitrogen fixation. Behind her, across the room, came the smashing sound of porcelain, the screech of chair legs on the floor, the thud of someone moving. 

“Sniper!” cried uncle, and Harry whipped around in time to see him scrambling from his chair, pressing himself in the corner of the room and tipping the chair over himself. “Sargent!” he shouted, followed by wordless cries as he shook violently, hands slapping the sides of his head. 

“No, no David, you’re safe,” cooed Harry’s mum, her tools abandoned on the floor. 

“No!” uncle weeped, hyperventilating, his eyes the size of dinner plates, unglazed, unfocused. “They’re watching us…” 

Mum crept cautiously towards uncle. Harry slowly got up out of her chair, palms sweating, nervous as she watched uncle. She’d seen what happened if he got convinced that mum was an enemy soldier, how his eyes would flare from fear to anger, how he would try and launch himself at her, still stuck in the trenches. “Mum,” she warned, as uncle started to rock back and forth. 

“Harriet, the curtains.” Mum waved Harry off, and Harry gritted her teeth and walked across the room, closing the heavy curtains. Nothing scared uncle more in his episodes than the sight of the mountains, they reminded him of the endless, pointless climb of Gallipoli. 

Her uncle shouted again, wordless fear. “No! Get away!” Harry turned around in time to see uncle shove the chair at mum, mum teetering off balance as she wheeled back into the wall. 

Harry bit back at her instant to cry out for her mother. Any noise-

That was when the drummer launched into a solo, all syncopation and hard beats. He’d been so good lately, but now that he was in his episode uncle wordlessly let out a sobbing wail, striking his head with increasing force. 

“David, David darling, don’t do that,” Mum soothed, coming forward again, this time able to reach his hands, try and reduce the intensity of his strikes. “Harriet!” she hissed under her breath, casting a look at the radio. 

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. She turned the knob on the radio, switching it to the classical music station. Soft string music filled the air, Harry turned the speakers up so the music engulfed them, swallowed them up inside of it. 

Gradually, uncle’s strikes ceased. He sobbed softly, rocking back and forth. Mum crouched next to him, holding his head in her chest, patting his hair. “You’re home, David. You’re home, you made it home. You’re safe. You’re safe here. Sweet angel, you’re safe.” 

Harry silently stood on guard, watching them, making sure that the worst was over. Wondering, not for the first time, what her father would have been like, if he’d returned from the Great War. If he’d have been as broken by uncle, shell-shocked, a ghost of his former self. But it was pointless wondering, she’d never know. 

—

Either Harry was a poor shot or the Giant was more discombobulated than he looked. She watched, not without mild amusement as he scrambled amongst the leaf litter like a pig hunting truffles, and the desperate way he hungrily poured the water down his throat. She tensed as he clambered back up to his feet, but as he spoke she found herself transfixed in place, a combination of trying to parse his regional as fuck accent, and the soothing way he spoke to her, as if aware at any moment and was liable to spook and run off.

"Yeah, we haven't met before, eh?" Wouldn't meet again if Harry could get her way. She eyed up the canteen as he approached, bristling, ready to sink him into the earth below. But who the Giant did was clap her shoulder, his eyes glazing over once more. "Oi, just watch it mate," Harry snapped, shirking her shoulder away and shoving at the Giant, her palm pressing on his arm and then it was her turn-

—

There’s a notion of luck in it – that someone who knows what their doing happened to stumble across him. To simply slip under the dirty swirl of mud marbled bog waters was not how Willie anticipated his end to be. Swept up by a current that he had no hope of fighting against. Somehow, someone carved through the water, hauled him out and did their best to clear his lungs. Despite what should’ve been a proficiency, he’d been driven into a state of panic and swallowed large gulps of the stinking water. Willie startled back coughing, and hacking up the vile water.

By the time he pushed himself up onto his side he expected the mysterious force to be gone. But there he was met with a pair of glacial eyes that cut through the murk of the jungle. The bloke’s gaze wasn’t cold, he had a genial warmth that stretched from his lips, through to the very light creases in and around his eyes. Most especially as he said. “What a place to take a dip, eh?”

“Yes.” Will said, between coughs.

“How’d you end up in the water?”

That seemed like an easy enough question. “Dunno…”

The bloke smiled at that, and said something that sounded a little like ‘not to worry probably best…’ but Will couldn’t quite catch it, any of it. He tried to haul himself up but his hands just sunk straight down into the mud.

“Easy, take it easy, here have some of this.”

Will was handed a canteen which felt cruel given the state of his hands. He wiped the worst of the mud off onto his trousers and then grasped the canteen with both of his hands. Willie realised too late that he’d been chugging most of it down greedily. “Sorry,” he said, handing it back.

“Growing fella aren’t you?” The stranger said, with another smart smile. He was busying himself with reattaching his canteen to his belt loop whilst Will sat there gormlessly watching him.  “Got a name?” 

“John William Shaw but you’s can call me Willie.”

“You don’t say, John Atkinson.”

At this Will served him up a cracked tooth smile, pleased to find another name-mate, especially on the island. “HAH!” His short bark of a laugh echoed through the hooded trees. “We’s a pair.” 

“Couple of Johns.” 

“All my brothers were Johns.” Will held out a muddy hand which for a moment John merely stared at, and then without further hesitation he took, stooping down to take it. “Makes you one too.” 

“Well it’s my lucky day then!” 

There was that glib smile again, as if John was particularly satisfied with himself. 

“I don’t suppose you can get up yourself? If I try to haul you up I might end up in the drink myself!”

Will nodded as if to take the command in, and realising it didn’t have to be this way he used a slither of a guest through the dense trees to swing himself up. He cracked a voracious grin, slapping John about the shoulders, “we canna have that!” 

—

Harry frowned, nauseous as an image… a memory flitted through her mind. She could still taste the mud in her mouth and see… “John…” she muttered, her voice soft, yearning, confused. He… She’d seen him, alone, getting himself into trouble with that bleeding heart of his, helping… Harry looked to the Giant, face twitching as she tried to figure out what it meant. 

“What the hell was that?” she accused, wondering if it were an island trick. Something to fuck with them, an extension of the strange powers one could have over the elements. “That vision?” A memory, she hoped, a memory of John, alive after they’d parted ways, because Harry sure as hell hadn’t met the Giant before. “You met John?” she accused, storming up to the man, not caring that he towered over her, that she should probably not aggravate him. She was desperate for news on John. “When?” She prodded his chest-

—

Will felt grossly nauseous as he came too, there wasn’t words for it really, it felt as though he’d been torn asunder. Split by a life that he had not lived, that couldn’t be a hallucination and if it were it was so vivid, so real. The voice hadn’t been his, the uncle unfamiliar, and a mother, beautiful as she may have been, Will had only felt the heavy weight of fighting the inevitable. Being their stoic guardian. Then as he came to, thrust back into the jungle headfirst as if he’d never left, it became apparent that she was gone. The woman’s eyes were glassy. Had she been taken? Will felt a flurry of panic as he stepped back… “no…”

“Not again…”

But as quick as she’d gone, she came back and immediately she hurled accusations at him. “Jo–-” In his state he couldn’t recall who it was she was talking about. What in the ever loving– “vision?”

Except when she persisted, everything fell into place, it were the same glacial gaze, except her’s was hardened. Iced over like steel. “Yeah ducky…” He started, but she didn’t give him a chance to answer coming up like a storm, making her demands. “It were–-”

—

Willie knew it had been a good night, because he’d woken up by the dwindling fire downstairs and not on the floor upstairs, as was proper. It weren’t a good morning though. One of the little buggers had come down and given him a good walloping kick. “Ay’up!” He hollered, out of the corner of his sleep-hazed eyes he saw little Lou with her savage smile. She skipped out of sight no doubt to go tell ma that he was up to no good. Will hauled himself up to see that the shutters had already been opened, which could only mean one thing – -

“JOHN WILLIAM!”

The bellowing voice could only have belonged to one man, and one man only. Will prickled, readying himself for the fight ahead.

Out through the front door he found his pa stood with one leg up on the canal side wall. His pa gestured towards the boat that was wanting to come into the lock and tossed the ratchet windlass in Willie’s direction. Will ducked, instead of catching it, which was the appropriate response with slurried reactions. It hit the wall behind him, and richoteted off onto the floor. Will scrambled after it and with a huff, clambered over the lock gate. The bridge would’ve been more convenient, safer, but Will in his still slightly tipsy-stupor revelled in staring down the perilous drop into the rush of water. 

“OPEN THAT DAMN GATE WILLIAM.”

“Right you are pa…” He muttered under this breath, and hauled himself over the black beam onto the other side. Will jumped down, surprised to see that it were Danny on duty today, he weren’t hardly big enough to push his half of the gate open by himself. Will jogged up to the top gate, the one that needed opening. “WHERE’S JUNIOR?” He called, heaving his half of the gate step by step, it was easier to push open backwards when he didn’t feel so good. 

Will expected some retort back, but their pa had gone around the lock to make himself busy chatting to the bloke that wanted passage through. He grunted, the gate had finally heaved open – it was always harder like this, when the lock waters were high. Little Danny was evidently struggling. “Ay’up Danny, you’s wait there!”

He darted down to the bottom gate, that was still shut and hopped across it. “Why’s you on today? Where’s junior gone?” 

Danny looked up at him properly meek and timid, just shrugged, and then tugged on Will’s sleeve. “Right-o let’s get this open then, eh?” Will asked him, the slurry of his headache still ever prevalent but it’d be worse if he didn’t do this. He slung the ratchet under his arm again and working with Little Danny, so the little’n didn’t feel too useless, they pushed the gate open together. “You’s stay here, yeah? I’ll be back to help you’s shut it.” Will promised, then made his way back around ago.

It was easy enough to take a break, Will liked this part well enough, even if it was boring after having seen it for the hundredth time. This morning’s boat wasn’t hauled along by a majestic horse, but rather two scrawny looking donkeys that made an awful lot of noise. Which pierced right through Will’s ears. “Bloody hell…” He muttered, the lock key once again tucked under his arm, lest he want to be struck for leaving it on the ground. As he made to push the gate shut. His pa, surprising them all, had come around and was now assisting little Danny himself. So there weren’t no need for Will to yo-yo.

Instead he could clamour to moor up the boat, keep her nice and steady, all whilst avoiding them stupid donkeys. Then finally he slung the windlass into the mechanism to wind open the paddle on his side, the affect was immediate. The water was always an ever present force, but now it was rushing out hard. Will had slung the ratched back under his arm, so it couldn’t be taken by any of them no-gooders. 

Will crouched down, waiting for the water to get low enough that the whole process could be stopped, the gate opened. The boatsmen sent on their merry way. He glanced down the other side of the lock to note that the boat weren’t from one of the colliers. It weren’t just boatmen either.

“Ay’up mi’duck…” Will called, with a pleasant smile despite the steady thrum of his head.

“Morning William!”

“How you’s know that?”

The young woman just laughed at him, the boat was rapidly sinking lower now, too low to hold up a conversation without shouting. “I hope we meet again.”

Too right he did.

—

Harry felt the world tilt sideways, the disorientating rush of being confronted with another vision. John wasn’t in this one, and his absence put her in a foul mood, let along the lingering throbbing in her temples, a hangover remembered and carried through the centuries. Must have been some romping night. She wondered whether it were the hangover, or the accents that made the specifics of what they talked about so hard to follow. She hadn’t seen canals like that before, the backbreaking mechanisms involved in moving cargo up and down terrain. English, she guessed by the accent. But why the hell was she getting a vision of hauling boats down a canal? 

Harry looked down at her finger, pressed dead in the centre of the man’s (John William - went by William?) chest. The likely trigger of the memories. Another island trick? She stepped back a few steps, appraising William with wary eyes. “Right, no touching,” she ordered, worried that he had seen some memory of hers in exchange. Harry’s eyes narrowed, a certain possessiveness to her thoughts, private as they were. 

“Did you see something?” she snapped, distracted by the discomfort that thought brought her. She barely talked to other people, let alone let them have intimate glimpses of her thoughts and memories. The notion made her shudder. “Before, you touched me.” 

—

Willie fought through the lucidity, to seek the truth in what he had seen, if this was that monster’s doing it was a cruel and unique trick indeed. “You’s…I think it were you’s…were with your ma? Some bloke that were frightened…ducky ain’t seen nothin’ like it, why were he like that?” As Will recounted aloud what he’d seen it became evident she was from another time altogether. “What were tha’ machine?” It played some of the finest music he’d ever heard. A far cry from the music boxes he’d unwittingly been fascinated by as a little lad. The ones that…little Lou… he hadn’t thought of her in an age. She’d begged, and begged, and begged, for a music box. Not knowing it was more than any of them could have ever afforded.

“It were a trick…trick of the island. You’s one of them…” He waved frantically, wheeling about like a nervous horse. “Your eyes!” Will had seen this before! Save it hadn’t come with visions, with glimpses of a life that didn’t belong to him, and that in itself was a horror. “You’s looked them one of them!” Will was so taken with this, that he’d forgotten the previously stated rule and rushed forwards to grab her by the shoulders. “Yo—”

—

Harry didn't have long to wonder whether William had seen anything. He offered the details freely, speaking of her mum, a frightened man (Uncle David), and a… machine. How the hell was she supposed to know the kind of machine he was talking about. "No more touching," Harry grumbled, not keen to have him rifling through more of her memories. "Were my uncle, he got shell shock after the Great War," Harry briefly explained, only because she wanted to lure William into explaining his own memories.

"I saw you with a man in here, John Atkinson," Harry began, trying to direct William's focus. "When-" William cut her off, a panicked air about him. Ironically, not dissimilar to Uncle David's fits, a mild one at that. "Eh?" Harry asked, a sharp, upwards intonation. What the hell was he on about now? "If anyone's a trick it's you, eh? What are you in the jungle for anyway, stumbling around like an idiot?" He was like a spooked horse, the whites of his eyes rolling as he moved, his arms flying about him and coming to land on Harry's shoulders-

—

"Harry! How much further?" John called up after Harry, slower on the incline up the steep, rough hill. To their left the river roared, frothy and white, tumbling down rocks. If it were any steeper it would be a waterfall. 

"Come on John," Harry called down to him, pausing her ascent to relish this moment. The built anticipation, the delight of outpacing her little brother. Harry grinned as he looked up at her, weary from the climb, dying to know what it was she had found. "Not far to go, don't tell me you're out of shape."

"You know, Harry, some of us have to actually… climb up this hill," John lectured her, taking his time finding his footing, pulling himself up the next bit of the hill. Harry, in comparison, had been making herself footholds on the way up, a new skill she'd discovered with these island powers. Attunements, they called them on the beach. 

"The river's right there," Harry told John, motioning to it. 

John gave Harry a weary look. She knew he knew what was coming. 

"If you're tired go make like a salmon, eh?" Harry made the joke anyway, moving her hand in a fish-like wave. "I'll look out for bears." 

"You're hilarious, Harry," John called out, finding her old footholds and resigning himself to using them. 

"It's not far," Harry parried back, rushing on ahead to make sure it was just as she remembered. Harry crested the hill, waiting for John to join her before she swung to the left, towards the water. "It might be too loud to camp, but…" Harry wove around a thick tree trunk, and then turned around to walk backwards into the clearing, triumphant smirk on her face. "Worth the climb?"

The exhaustion vanished from John's face as he stepped into the alcove, a flat bit of earth jutted up against a clifface, water spraying from the nearby river. Pretty enough, and then his eyes turned to the cliff - yes, thought Harry - and he saw them. A wall of orchids, clinging to the cliff, growing in every crevice they could hold onto. John's face softened with pure delight, he slung his pack off his shoulders and walked to the cliff, almost reverent with his expression as he touched the first flower, tenderly, like a lover. "This is…" John stepped back, and the came the second revelation, that every orchid was unique, a melting pot of flowers, all cross breeding with one another. Hybrids, he'd been obsessed with hybridisation and cross breeding, the terminology burned into Harry's brain after proof reading every chapter of his thesis. 

"Ah, but if the climb's too much for you we can go back down," Harry teased, slipping her pack off and rolling out her shoulders. 

John turned to her, and Harry was startled at the pure emotion on his face, his eyes welling with tears. All at once Harry's smugness vanished, replaced with concern. Had she misread this? Fucked up completely. "Harry…" he said, nervously laughing as he wiped his eyes furtively. "Thank you." Relief flooded Harry. He wasn't upset, but deeply moved. "This is…" John looked about them, and then before Harry could squawk and push him away John was on her, squeezing her for dear life. 

"Oi…" Harry grumbled, even though she loved it. 

—

“You’s know John…” William breathed as he came to. He couldn’t wrap his head around how but the mere possibility that this woman might know John, could possibly know if he’s even alive. Willie hadn’t seen him in what felt like an eon. He gripped her harder, unintentionally without realising his own strength, the whites of his eyes calmed as he came to focus on her. The glaringly obvious clues that lay before him unseen to him. Willie was practically shaking her now as the wick of his calmness burnt right down to the quick. “Where is he? He alive? Okay?” 

—

William’s eyes had gone unfocused, distant for a brief moment and quiet. Harry liked that he went quiet. But all at once he came back, but he was agitated. At least he was focused on John. “Yeah, John, my brother.” Harry ground out through her teeth, grimacing as William’s hands dug into her shoulders. “Oi, watch it!” Harry snarled, resisting the urge to shove him back with a push to his chest. Instead she twisted her foot, and the ground beneath them rippled backwards, carrying William with it. “You saw him in the jungle, when did you see him?” Harry asked, determined to get her answers first. 

—

Willie had not anticipated that the ground would shift underneath him to pull him back, and away from her. He righted himself with a cushion of air to stop him from toppling over. My brother. He stared at her, the blatantly obvious connection flared right there before his eyes with a few simple words. He ought to recognise those eyes in the dark of the jungle canopy, as luminous as they were. Willie raked a hand through his overgrown bedraggled hair, suspiciously quiet as he took it all in. “Ain’t seen him in a good while…” Will had lost count how long it had been, he’d just clung to hope thinking he might see him again, his old friend. “You’s don’t know where he is?”

—

It seemed to get through William’s skull that Harry was John’s brother. She panted, hungry for what he might say. He looked like he was putting it together, thinking about when he’d seen John- Harry’s hope withered as William gave her a non-answer, mouth setting into a firm line. “A good while?” Harry repeated, shaking her arms by her side and turning away from him to pace in a circle, getting out some of her energy. She’d been… excited, damn it, thrilled at the thought of piecing together John’s movements. And now? Now she had the gentle giant here, who’s brain didn’t match the rest of him. “We… We split ways… decades back,” she mumbled, flexing and clenching her fists. 

“Did you… spend time with him?” John was like that. He took in strays. 

—

Willie watched the woman – Harriet…Harry – pace as if she were circling something. He stretched his neck to see if he could see what it was but didn’t dare get any closer. Lest he wanted the sharp end of her earthly-powers again. “Decades…” Willie parroted back, as he tried to count back the years since he’d last seen Johnny boy. “It were a long time ago, ducky.” He emphasised, as if that clarified any further what a good while meant. “He saved my life once from a fish! THIS BIG!” Willie used his hands to give her an illusion of just how big he meant. “Used’t come out here often and found him ‘alf dozen times. Well! He found me! Hah!” He gave one short, brief, little laugh, that sounded closer to pained than it did humoured. 

—

Harry was quickly losing her patience with William, not that she had much patience to begin with. He was unspecific, and by the time he emphasised the size of the fish John had saved him from, Harry had decided that she could trust nothing that William said. “Right,” Harry muttered, pushing her hair back from her face, giving William a sharp glare. She couldn’t trust anything he said, but… “It was that big?” Harry goaded William on, stepping closer to him, bridging the distance she’d put between them. “Tell me more,” Harry said through gritted teeth, hoping that him talking about it would bring it to his mind, as she reached out and touched the back of his hand-

—

Willie watched on as a spectator as Harry all of a sudden gained interest in the fish, and by extensive John. He opened his mouth to tell her more, even if he couldn’t recall the specifics, details never really mattered anyway. “It were—” But her eyes had glassed over just as they had before, he amassed as much when he glanced down to see her hand barely touching his own. Bugger…

—

“Tarnation, it's hot!” Willie shouted. 

“Stop….”

Though he couldn’t understand the rest of what she said, he could get the gist of it. “Right you are Mrs. Maja!!” Will returned to the task at hand - hauling great big hunks of rock into the wagon so they could bring them back to camp. The little fire lad wasn’t much use as he were running amok through them flailing his arms in the air stirring up a baking hot storm. Willie’s laughter echoed through the quarry as he held out his arms in a deep squat to catch him. “You’s stop that now or your ma’ is gonna tell me right off!” 

“Whatever gramps.” 

—

Will’s humour has momentarily dried up, as he stared down at the young woman - Harriet. It looked like she’d returned, or at least she wasn’t caught up in a hallucinogenic daydream no more. “You’s see something?” 

—

Harry bit back the bitter disappointment that had risen to the back of her throat. Instead a somewhat domestic memory of William with a little cockie biting his ankles, a bone-weary tiredness clinging to her skin. Harry frowned and ignored William as he questioned her, and touched his hand again-

—

Will was sat at the very edge of the cliff with his legs swung over the edge of it. The little fire lad, who wasn’t so little anymore, was humming along next to him. Between them, ever the bad influence, Willie was smoking his pipe. “You’s too little!” Willie had declared with a shark-toothed smile as the little lad lit it for him and then tried to steal a puff.

‘C’mon gramps I’m old enough now…’ The rest of the day passed in a blur as they prepared to venture deeper in to the jungle.

—

Where the fuck was John? He’d seen John. Harry touched William’s arm-

—

He were sat at the table polishing up a set of bowls he’d made for one of the new’uns that’d just washed up. A rare sight! Someone new on their shores. So Willie wanted to do something special to greet ‘em. One of the lads, as they inevitably did, came bounding head-first into the house shouting and waving his arms about as if the world were on fire.

“Ay’up! What in tarnation?”

‘WILLIE! WILLIE! You’ll never believe what I found on the beach.’

Proud as ever the little lad held up what looked to be a box. A small box. That was shiny all over and with a thin dangling black string hanging out one end of it. The string lead to a strange pair of neon orange poofs. Willie set the bowl down curious, but no less confused as the lad declared it was ‘a cassette player.’ Clicking the thing open and shut to show Will what was inside. Another smaller box.

‘Stay right there.’ So Willie did. Sat with his arms resting on his thighs as the little lad put the orange things around his ears. All of the sudden the outside world was muffled – he didn’t like that one bit. He opened his mouth to protest but little fire lad seemed to sense that.

‘You’ll love it gramps I promise just wait!’ He fiddled with the little shiny box and for a second it seemed like nothing was going to happen, all Willie could hear was a static hiss. But out of nowhere a melody started. He jumped up and whalloped his head against the roof in the process setting off of a domino effect of hysterics, as the little fire lad stumbled back.

“Ay’up! Little bugger!” He said, rubbing at his forehead but the erratic drums had smoothed over. And suddenly there was a voice! A voice! In his ears! HAIL! The little lad had stuffed the box into his hands and like that Willie was tapping his feet to the beat. To little lad’s increasing laughter, his dancing grew more erratic. Fuelled by a little air-powered assistance Will kicked and skipped backwards through the house, narrowly avoiding yesterday’s wood project. 

“Come and get your love!”

He surged. His laughter joining in tandem with the little fire lad’s as Willie grabbed hold of his hands and forced him to join in on the delirium. 

—

John. He’d met John. He was moving back but Harry was quicker, touching his hand-

—

The island had become a frigid landscape. Willie was huddled beside the fire with the trio of lads. They were bickering amongst themselves about who was physically the strongest and who could take on one of them funny-looking cows. Will snorted, fixing them all a cup of something hot each to keep them warm. It was a miracle that just a month prior they’d gone around fixing chimneys in all the houses. The worst off was little fire lad. Who was closest to the fire and covered in layers, on layers, but still shivered. “You’s nesh?” He teased, elbowing the little lad as Will passed him a cup of hot water. There was a spoonful of honey in each cup. Whatever had been left from their mother’s stock.

‘NO!’ He retorted back, teeth chattering to really drive home the truth.

“No you’s ain’t.” Willie said, holding the little lad’s head in his hands. “You’s a good bricky lad like your ma.” Before either of them could get too fixated on that Will turned to feed more air into the fire. 

—

“LET ME SEE JOHN!” Harry bellowed, panting hard as she fought off the wave of nausea that came with memories that weren’t her own. “FUCK!” she swore, a blissful, wonderful swear, that didn’t help the ache in her chest. She wanted to see John again, his blue eyes staring at her with such concern, his easy banter. She missed him, with every atom, with every cell. Her every organ missed his steady presence next to her. Without him she was the ocean without the moon, listless and still. “Show me John,” Harry begged, her voice breaking as her eyes turned red from the tears that burned there. “Please…”  

—

It became apparent that it weren’t no accident that Harry had been probing Will. Truly it were heartbreaking to see that kind of anguish, Harry strained, shouting and begging for him. “I dunno how to control it ducky…” Will said, half wishing he could take her face up in his hands. Rub at the tears that were staining her eyes red. “He’s a good’n. Saved my life many a time. He were one of my good friends. Even if he were posh!” He didn’t act like it though. John was every bit an honest man. Would it be too much to admit he missed him too? “He’s a smart one that one. Bloke is always just around t’corner!”

—

William didn’t know how to control it… Fuck, Harry had no idea how to control it, if it could be controlled. Harry glowered at Will, knowing it wasn’t his fault, but hating him anyway. He called John a good friend, but he couldn’t remember when he’d last seen him? Harry felt her eyes smart, she turned around before Will could see her crying. Facing the bush, Harry willed John to appear, daring him to come out of the bush and wrap Harry in a hug so tight that would squeeze the air out of her lungs, If he could meet William as many times as he claimed, he could emerge right now for her.

Harry waited a beat. A gust of wind rustled the leaves and branches, birds far above their head sang, and her sense through the ground was quiet, empty. It was just them. 

Harry’s anguish transmuted, twisted itself into cold, dark anger. The ground underneath her feet started to shiver, a deep, ominous growl came from the earth. “Give him back to me,” she demanded, addressing the damn jungle, with its wiles and tricks. The ground shuddered underneath, birds now screeching in alarm as they took off on mass. Trees groaned around them, trunks and vines swaying sickly with the erratic, juddering shakes. “Or I swear I’ll uproot this entire fucking forest!” Harry’s voice rang out against the deep, earthen rumbling, a tree to their right toppling over from the bone jellifying shaking. “GIVE ME MY BROTHER!” Harry shouted as the shaking reached its crescendo, her voice raw and hoarse as a big tree arched downwards in front of them, smashing into the ground a few inches from Harry’s face. 

—

Willie had hoped that maybe this little flourish of affection for Johnny boy might alleviate some of her woes, and in the end it did the contrary. She were quiet at first, and Will thought this was the end of it. She’d disappear into the jungle and be done with him. But the wind howled against them, and Willie swiftly arched into a brace. It were a bloody good job of it too because Harry howled like a dog ready for slaughter. The ground beneath them joined in on her screams and with a yelp, Willie jumped, holding himself steadfast above the tottering earth. 

Harry however, Harry was transfixed. Unaware of the danger she were in as the island surrendered to her pain. His attention snapped upwards as the birds took flight, and as he did he witnessed the beginning of the end. The tree to their mutual right was starting to quiver, and immediately swooped down into a low deep destructive bow. “NO!” Instinctively, Will used the force of the growing wind to pull Harry as if she were attached to a yoyo string into him. That was the last thing he recalled, because with Harry in his arms, as they tumbled backwards, he was thrust into another vision.

—

Harry walked into the deep jungle, alone. The quiet was usually a relief after the chaos of the beach, all those people walking and chattering set off tooth-aching headaches. But Harry trekked into the jungle with a heavy heart. Her footsteps lonely, solitary. 

John should be with her. “You said you were going to the beach,” Harry muttered, imagining John was a step behind her, just out of sight of the corner of her eye. “You aren’t there.” A fact that brought a flurry of worry to Harry’s chest, sour acid rising in the back of her throat. They’d argued, and John had stormed off, but the whole fight had started because John wanted to move to the beach and find himself a wife. He wasn’t there. 

Harry entered a clearing and stopped walking. She stood in front of a great tree, as wide as a house, taller than anything she’d ever seen before. It had to be hundreds of years old, and its age and its size made Harry feel small and tiny and insignificant and deeply, truly, alone. 

“John,” Harry called for him, a childish note to her voice, like he was a toddler late for dinner and mum was worried he’d gotten into trouble. “John!” Harry shouted, her voice full of regret. “I didn’t mean it! Any of it! Please!” Harry’s voice was swallowed up by the din of the forest, insects, birds, uncaring if her words reached John or not. “Come back…”

—

The carnage had felt good, cathartic. Like how when John had introduced Harry to Maria for the first time, and Maria had left behind her sweater, so Harry had taken a pair of scissors to the garment and torn it to shreds. Harry wanted to do that now, she wanted the entire island destroyed, rubble beneath her feet, clear the whole jungle if it meant there was a straight path to John. 

The tree next to her arched down, and Harry followed its path with detached fascination, wondering if it would flatten her. Suddenly she was yanked by a gust of air, the trembling stopped as soon as her feet left the ground and the branches of the tree shattered into the earth where she’d been standing. Harry fell back into something warm and squishy. Will. She’d all but forgotten about him, and now she was entangled in his long limbs. 

“Get off!” Harry hissed, pushing herself to her feet while William was still dazed from a memory. Harry clenched her jaw, the rumbling of the earthquake fading, a deathly quiet encasing the forest around them. “Leave me alone,” Harry snarled, not wanting anything more to do with William, his tricksome memories. “Leave me.”

—

It felt so final and terribly heart wrenching to feel the acidic call of Harry’s memory. She were stricken by the loss of her brother, and Will, he was so caught up in the weight of her everlasting grief that even as he came to it still kept him pinned. Dazed, and confused as to how he’d gotten on the jungle floor Willie pushed himself up onto his knees. Not fast enough for Harry though, who was demanding that he leave her. “I canna leave you’s ducky…” Will groaned, somewhere, something hurt, and it hurt terribly bad.

He pushed himself up to standing with a little flurry of assistance, and took a half-step towards her. “We can find him together.” Will hastily suggested, eager for it. He hadn’t even known that he’d been grieving the loss of John until the weight of Harry’s crashed with his own. How was he supposed to know what grief for an individual felt like anymore? Between them lay a wasteland of earthen destruction, cracks and fallen trees. Even the jungle were quiet. 

“Please ducky…” He pleaded. More afraid of being alone than he’d ever realised.

—

Will wanted to come with her, a poor, lumbering substitute for her brother. “No,” Harry said. Loneliness was a toxic sort of love, the one you knew was bad for you, but it was Harry’s old companion. She didn’t know how to function without it anymore. “You’ve done enough.” Harry stood in the middle of the destruction she’d unleashed, regret always a beat too late with Harry, the guilt that had clawed at her throat when she’d been forced to clean up piece by piece of a shredded sweater. It was easier to blame Will, the taste of John that had unleashed Harry’s grief. 

“The river’s that way,” Harry pointed, feeling its distant rumbling. It was in the opposite direction to which she now trekked. Footsteps scrambling after her sounded strange. Without a word Harry raised a wall of earth between her and Will, and continued her solitary odyssey.

—