Chapter 2

By: ThalrixVyre

The heat was oppressive, and Malory could already feel her clothes clinging to her skin, damp with sweat. They'd been walking through the jungle for what felt like hours, and every step seemed to take them deeper into the suffocating tangle of trees and vines. The air was thick with humidity, and the incessant hum of insects buzzing around her head made her want to scream.

Cheryl, of course, was happily stumbling along beside her, oblivious to the danger they were in. Her hair, which had dried into a frizzy, tangled mess, bounced with every step, and her eyes darted around as though she were on a sightseeing tour. Every few minutes, she would gasp or make some inane comment about the wildlife they passed, which only served to grate on Malory's already frayed nerves.

"Look! A monkey!" Cheryl squealed, pointing excitedly at a tree where a small, brown monkey was perched. "Do you think I could catch it and keep it as a pet? We could name it Mister Bananas!"

Malory didn't even bother to glance at the creature. "No, Cheryl, we're not catching a monkey. We're trying to find water before we both die of heatstroke."

"But what if we trained it to bring us food? Or it could climb up the trees and, like, drop coconuts on our heads!" Cheryl continued, oblivious to Malory's irritation. "I bet monkeys know all the good places to find water. Maybe we should just follow it."

Malory paused, turning slowly to face Cheryl. She could feel the headache building behind her eyes again, that familiar pressure that came from being around someone as spectacularly idiotic as Cheryl Tunt. "Cheryl," she began, her voice dangerously calm, "if you don't shut up and start being useful, I swear, I will leave you in this jungle for the monkeys to eat."

Cheryl blinked at her, the grin slipping from her face for a moment. But then, in typical Cheryl fashion, she seemed to brighten at the prospect. "Do you think they would choke me first? That would be pretty hot, right?"

Malory clenched her fists, turning away before she did something she would regret. This was a test—one of the many tests that life seemed to throw at her, and she would survive it the same way she had survived everything else: by gritting her teeth and pushing through. If she could survive the Cold War, Sterling's stupidity, and a thousand assassination attempts, she could survive being stranded on an island with Cheryl.

They pressed on through the dense foliage, the heat relentless as they climbed over roots and ducked under low-hanging branches. Every now and then, Malory would pause, listening for the sound of running water—anything that might indicate a stream or a river. But the jungle seemed eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the ever-present buzz of insects.

Cheryl, for her part, was still chattering away, though Malory had long since tuned her out. The words washed over her like background noise, her mind focused entirely on the task at hand. She needed to find water. Once they had a reliable source, she could figure out how to build shelter and start planning for the long haul. They could be here for weeks, even months, before anyone came looking for them, and Malory knew that survival depended on their ability to secure the basics first.

Water, shelter, fire, she reminded herself, the survival mantra echoing in her head. Malory had learned these skills long ago, during her early days in espionage. She had been trained to survive in any environment, no matter how hostile. But that was before age had crept up on her, before her patience had worn thin from years of dealing with imbeciles.

Suddenly, Cheryl stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide and gleaming. "I found it!" she cried, pointing at something just beyond the trees.

Malory followed her gaze, her heart skipping a beat as she saw a shimmering pool of water glistening in a clearing up ahead. For a brief moment, hope flickered in her chest. They had found water.

But as they approached the clearing, Malory's hope quickly evaporated. The pool wasn't a fresh spring or a river—it was a stagnant, murky swamp. The water was dark and brackish, and the surface was covered in a thin layer of scum. The stench of decay wafted up from the water, assaulting her senses.

Cheryl, however, seemed entirely unfazed. "Look! Water! We're saved!" She ran toward the edge of the swamp, kicking up mud as she splashed toward the water with childlike enthusiasm.

"Cheryl, stop!" Malory snapped, grabbing her by the arm before she could dip her hand into the foul water. "That's not drinkable. You'll get sick and probably die of dysentery."

Cheryl pouted, pulling her arm free. "But it's water! We're supposed to find water, and I found some. That's what we're doing, right? Surviving and all that."

Malory closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to stay calm. "We need fresh water, Cheryl. Clean water. Not swamp water that's probably filled with bacteria and God knows what else."

Cheryl blinked, looking from the swamp to Malory and back again. "Oh… okay. So… no swamp water. Got it. But what if we, like, boiled it or something? Isn't that what people do in survival movies?"

Malory sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yes, we could boil it, but we don't have any firewood, no way to start a fire, and no containers to boil the water in. So unless you've got a magic survival kit hidden somewhere, we're going to keep looking."

Cheryl deflated slightly but nodded in understanding. "Okay, fine. I'll keep looking. But if we see a monkey again, can we at least ask it where to find fresh water?"

Ignoring her, Malory turned away from the swamp and scanned the horizon, her eyes narrowing as she spotted a slight incline in the distance. Higher ground. If there was any water to be found, it would be up there, where the land dipped down into the valleys below.

"Come on," Malory said, jerking her head in the direction of the hill. "We're going up. There's a better chance of finding water higher up."

Cheryl, to her credit, didn't argue. She fell in step behind Malory, her usual enthusiasm slightly dampened by the disappointment of the swamp. Malory pushed ahead, determined to make it to the top of the incline before sunset. The jungle was already darkening, and the last thing she wanted was to be stuck out here when night fell.

As they climbed, the foliage thinned slightly, giving them a clearer view of the landscape. Malory's instincts told her they were on the right track—there had to be a stream or a spring nearby. Cheryl's heavy breathing behind her only reminded her of how much this woman was slowing her down. If only she had been stranded with anyone else—literally anyone else—but no, she was stuck with Cheryl Tunt, the walking disaster.

The incline grew steeper, and Cheryl began to lag behind, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Can we… maybe take a break?" she wheezed, stumbling over a root and nearly falling face-first into the dirt.

Malory didn't bother looking back. "We take a break when we find water. Not before."

"But—"

"Keep moving."

Cheryl groaned but obediently continued trudging up the hill. The heat was unbearable, and Malory could feel her own energy flagging. But she wouldn't stop. She couldn't. She had survived worse conditions than this—she would survive this too.

Finally, after what felt like hours of climbing, they reached the top of the hill. Malory's heart leaped as she spotted a small stream trickling down the other side, the water clear and cool as it wound its way through the rocks.

"Water," she said, more to herself than to Cheryl. "Finally."

Cheryl, however, had already thrown herself down by the stream, eagerly cupping her hands to drink. Malory grabbed her arm, pulling her back before she could gulp down the water.

"Wait!" Malory snapped. "We don't know if it's safe yet. We'll need to test it first."

Cheryl looked up at her, her eyes wide with confusion. "Test it? Like… with science or something?"

Malory let out a long, slow breath. "Just give it a few minutes. Watch for signs of contamination. If the water's clear and there's no immediate signs of illness in the animals drinking from it, we should be safe."

Cheryl nodded, though it was clear she didn't fully understand. Malory, though, kept her eyes on the stream, watching as a small bird dipped down to drink from it. No strange smells, no discoloration. The water seemed clean.

"We're going to fill up whatever containers we can find and then head back to the beach," Malory instructed. "If this is fresh water, we'll have to set up camp nearby. We're not going to die out here because you were too stupid to wait."

Cheryl nodded enthusiastically. "Yay, water! And we didn't even have to ask a monkey for directions."

Malory resisted the urge to strangle her right then and there.

It had only been a few minutes since they'd found the stream, but Malory was already contemplating how long they could stay here before she lost her mind. They'd have to build some kind of shelter nearby, and while Malory had no illusions that Cheryl would be useful in that regard, she couldn't exactly leave her to wander the island unsupervised. God only knew what kind of trouble she'd get into if left alone for more than a few minutes.

Cheryl suddenly perked up, her face lighting up with that same bizarre enthusiasm that made Malory's skin crawl. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, dropping her stick. "This is exactly like the old gypsy woman said!"

Malory froze, staring at Cheryl in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Cheryl waved her arms in the air, her expression completely serious. "You know! The old gypsy woman! She told me this would happen. She said, 'Cherlene, one day you're going to be stranded on a desert island with a sexy older woman, and you're going to have to drink from the earth and survive off the land.' I totally forgot about it until now, but this is exactly what she meant!"

Malory blinked, her patience already hanging by a thread. "You're basing our survival on the ramblings of an 'old gypsy woman'? Jesus Christ, Cheryl, how are you even alive?"

Cheryl shrugged, smiling dreamily. "I don't know. Maybe it's fate or something. But she was totally right! She even said there'd be monkeys, and I just saw one earlier, so…"

Before Malory could respond, Cheryl shot to her feet and darted toward the edge of the jungle, her eyes wide with excitement. "There it is!" she shouted, pointing to a small monkey sitting on a nearby branch, lazily picking at a piece of fruit. "I knew it! The monkey is the key. We have to follow it!"

Malory's heart sank as she watched Cheryl race after the monkey without a second thought. "Cheryl, for God's sake, get back here! That monkey isn't going to lead us to food—it's going to lead you to your death, you moron!"

But Cheryl wasn't listening. She was already crashing through the underbrush, her eyes locked on the small primate as it swung from tree to tree. "Wait! Come back, Mister Bananas! Show me your secrets!"

Malory stood there for a moment, the enormity of her situation sinking in. Not only was she stranded on a deserted island, but she was stranded with Cheryl, a woman so idiotic that she was currently chasing a monkey through the jungle in the hopes it would lead her to food.

With a frustrated growl, Malory took off after her, knowing full well that if she didn't, Cheryl would probably end up lost—or worse. The jungle closed in around her, the thick canopy overhead casting long shadows on the ground as she fought her way through the vines and branches.

"Cheryl!" Malory yelled, her voice hoarse from the heat and exertion. "Get your idiot ass back here before I leave you to the monkeys!"

There was no response, only the distant sound of Cheryl giggling as she continued her pursuit. Malory's temper flared as she pushed deeper into the jungle, branches scratching at her arms and face. She couldn't believe this was her life now—running after Cheryl Tunt in the middle of nowhere because the woman had some bizarre belief in gypsy prophecies and monkey guides.

She spotted Cheryl up ahead, her form barely visible through the dense foliage. Cheryl was stumbling after the monkey, tripping over roots and rocks but never losing sight of her goal. Malory could feel the sweat trickling down her neck, her patience wearing thinner with every step.

"Cheryl!" Malory shouted again, finally catching up to her. "Stop chasing the goddamn monkey!"

Cheryl skidded to a halt, panting heavily as she turned to face Malory. Her eyes were wide with excitement, and she pointed eagerly at the tree where the monkey had just disappeared. "It's leading us to food, I can feel it! This is exactly what the old gypsy woman meant!"

Malory groaned, her head pounding with the effort of not strangling Cheryl on the spot. "There is no old gypsy woman, Cheryl. There's no prophecy. The monkey is just trying to get away from you, like any sane creature would."

Cheryl pouted, her enthusiasm dampened slightly by Malory's words. "But… it looked like it knew something. Like it had a plan."

Malory pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. "Monkeys don't have plans, Cheryl. We need to focus on getting back to the stream before we die of dehydration. You can chase all the monkeys you want after we've built a shelter and found some food."

Cheryl sighed, clearly disappointed, but nodded reluctantly. "Okay, fine. But if Mister Bananas shows up again, I'm following him."

Malory shot her a withering look. "If you follow that monkey one more time, I'll leave you here. I swear to God, Cheryl."

Cheryl grinned, looking utterly unfazed by the threat. "Oh, you wouldn't leave me here. You love bossing me around too much."

Malory's lips tightened, and for a brief moment, she considered testing that theory. But instead, she turned sharply on her heel and started walking back toward the stream, muttering under her breath. Cheryl followed, still beaming with the satisfaction of having found something to amuse herself with.

As they made their way back to the stream, Malory's thoughts turned once again to survival. Cheryl was a complete liability, but Malory wasn't going to let that stop her. She had a plan now—find food, secure shelter, and make sure Cheryl didn't kill them both in the process. If she could do that, they might just stand a chance.

But as she glanced over at Cheryl, who was still humming to herself and casting hopeful glances at the trees for any sign of the monkey, Malory couldn't help but wonder if that was asking too much.

They returned to the stream just as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the clearing. Malory knelt by the water, filling the makeshift containers they had scavenged from the wreckage earlier. The cool liquid felt like a balm against the heat, but Malory's mind was already racing ahead to their next steps.

"Alright," she said, standing up and wiping her hands on her pants. "We've got water. Now we need food."

Cheryl perked up at that, her earlier disappointment forgotten. "Food? Ooh, can we catch fish or something? I once went fishing with my family, and I caught this giant fish that looked like a monster, but then it got away because I wasn't paying attention and—"

Malory shot her a look. "We're not fishing, Cheryl. We don't have any gear, and even if we did, I doubt you'd know how to use it. We'll forage for now, find something edible and hope we don't starve."

Cheryl nodded, her enthusiasm undeterred. "Okay, foraging! I'm great at that. My grandpa used to make me pick berries on his estate, so I'm, like, an expert now."

Malory wasn't even going to question it. If Cheryl could somehow manage to find something edible, then all the better. But Malory wasn't holding her breath. They set off into the jungle once again, this time with a clearer goal in mind—find something they could eat and make it through the night without killing each other.

The sun was setting now, the sky turning a deep orange as the jungle around them came alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. Malory could feel the weight of the day pressing down on her, the exhaustion setting in. But she wasn't going to stop, not until she had secured enough resources to last them through the night.

Cheryl, of course, was still distracted, her eyes darting around the trees in search of her elusive monkey guide. Malory sighed. At least Cheryl was enthusiastic, if nothing else.

They continued on, deeper into the jungle, when suddenly Cheryl gasped and darted ahead once more. "There it is! Mister Bananas! He's back!"

Before Malory could stop her, Cheryl had taken off again, disappearing into the underbrush after the monkey. Malory let out a string of curses under her breath and started after her, but this time she didn't move quite as quickly.

If Cheryl wanted to chase monkeys, fine. But Malory wasn't going to let the fool get them both killed. She kept her pace measured, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of edible plants or berries.

As Cheryl disappeared ahead of her once again, Malory muttered, "At least one of us should be thinking about staying alive."

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