Left for Dead: A Quarterback's Revenge

found a sharp-edged shell on the beach and sawed at the plastic for hours, m

ty. The satellite phone Tara had left was a useless brick. I

w bitter berries that made my stomach cramp and some bracki

ithered and snapped. I learned to sleep in trees, wedged uncomfort

upon a dilapidated shack hidden in a thicket of trees. The door

en I s

against the wall, clothed in the tattered re

ing against my ribs. This was my future. This was

Something was carved into the wood. I moved c

I love you.

his hell. I sank to the floor, the reality of my situation crashing down on me wi

it. A small, rust-covered multi-

hand, solid. It had a small knife, p

ide me. Anger. A cold, hard resolve. I would not end

me my lifeline. I learned to pry open oysters from the rocks at low tide, their slimy, salty flesh the best meal I' d had i

e kid was being stripped away, layer by painful layer

feeling I thought was long dead, surged through me. I scrambled out of my shelt

and a single figur

a

on her face. Then, one of the two men with her lifted a large, ca

ak

heir thick bodies and dark patterns immediately. They were trying to

ay, leaving me on the beach

m slithering outside. The sound was a constant

probably going to die.

found a space on the wall next to the other man' s final words. My

forgiveness. It was

s a c

ordon, I