I wake up to the sound of birds chirping in the jungle. 

          It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lighting. I stare up at the orange ceiling of the tent, a sliver of the sun shining down in between the cracks. I cover my mouth as I let out a loud, exaggerated yawn, tasting my morning breath in the back of my throat. The tent is empty, but I can hear Shawn and Christina chatting outside. After stretching my back, feeling a few pops, I begin to gradually crawl out of the tent.

          As I undo the zipper to the door, I'm instantly welcomed by a gentle breeze that blows through my hair. The early morning sun is blistering down over us, and the ocean water is bluer than ever. Shawn is leaning on a palm tree, having his morning smoke. Christina is sitting down on top of the cooler, making herself a sandwich for breakfast. They are both discussing the plan for today, when I decide to interrupt.

          "Morning," I say with a tired smile, climbing to my feet.

          Both of them turn towards me in unison.

          "Well, well, look who decided to join us." Christina takes a bite of her sandwich.

          "How'd you sleep?" Shawn asks, adjusting his sunglasses so they're resting on his forehead.

          "Like a rock. It probably had something to do with all those drinks I had last night." I put my hand on my forehead, feeling the slightest headache. I've never been too prone to hangovers. I guess I'm just lucky in that category.

          "Yeah, I'm surprised you're up so early," Christina points out.

          "Well, technically, it's not that early," Shawn counters, looking down at his phone. "It's quarter to ten right now. Looks like Pierre is running a little late this morning."

          I rub the sleep out of my eyes, then brush my fingers through my red, tangled hair.

          "What time do we have to be checked in at our hotel again?" I ask curiously.

          Shawn blows out some smoke. "5:30 tonight. The receptionist said we could change it for later, so I just went along with her while you guys were chatting in the lobby."

          "Well, that's good," Christina replies. "We have lots of time to get back."

          Shawn nods, gazing out towards the beautiful ocean. 

          After a few moments, he looks back at me. "But yeah, after Oscar wakes up, we should start pulling down the tents. Pierre is gonna show up any minute."

          I almost forgot how Oscar wasn't feeling well last night around the campfire. I guess this island is so gorgeous that it plays tricks on you like that.

          "Speaking of Oscar, does anyone know how he's feeling this morning?"

          Christina eyes me while finishing off her sandwich. "He didn't say much this morning when I tried talking to him. He was curled up on his side, so I couldn't really see his face. I figured I'd just let him keep sleeping until Pierre showed up."

          I nod my head. "Well, what about last night? Did he wake you up at all?"

          "Nope. He was sound asleep when I crawled in. Laying there like a log."

          After a few more minutes of casual conversation, I start walking towards Oscar's tent. I crouch down and unzip the door, seeing him laying on his side with his face covered, so I can understand what Christina meant when she said he's hidden.

          "Hey, Oscar?"

          No reply.

          "Oscar?" I repeat, this time a little more stern.

          "Yeah?" he replies, barely loud enough for me to hear.

          "How are you feeling?"

          Just like last night, it takes him a second to reply.  "Wait...what?"

          "I said, how are you feeling this morning?"

          "How am I feeling this morning?" He sounds like he's stoned. His words are slow and don't come across rational.

          "Yes," I say, crawling inside the tent beside him. "Remember last night? You were complaining that your head was really hurting."

          "Last—last night?" he moans under his breath.

          "Yes—last night," I retort, now getting frustrated. Why is he talking like that? Is he still actually sick, or is he just doing this as a joke? I really can't tell, because Oscar is always the one to goof around and pull pranks.

          "No, Jane. Last night, we were in a nightclub back in Seattle...remember? It was the very first time we ever met. And then—then, I introduced you to Shawn. And it happened, Jane...IT happened. If only I had been a half-decent human being. I should have been smarter, but I was drunk, and I—I—"

          "Enough, Oscar!" I cut him off, ignoring his nonsense. "Please, just answer me. Are you feeling better—yes or no?"

          He doesn't respond, and we find ourselves back in silence. What on earth is he talking about? A nightclub in Seattle? The first time we ever met? Jesus.

          So, out of frustration, I pull the covers off him—only to reveal a terrifying sight that I wish I could erase from my mind. I cup my hands over my mouth in horror. Oscar's skin, from head to toe, is whiter than a ghost. His entire body is drenched in a pool of sweat. Mucus and snot trail down his nose like a raging river, while his body curls up, shaking and trembling like a leaf. It looks like he's going through heroin withdrawal.

          "Oh my gosh, Oscar! What happened to you?" I start to panic, not having the slightest clue as to what's going on. Again, there is no response from him, just more shaking and moaning. I nervously place my hand on his forehead, the sweat pouring off him profusely. My palm feels like it's on fire, but at the same time, it's colder than ice.

          As if a dog ready to pounce on its prey, I'm out of the tent in seconds, making my way back to the others. Obviously, Shawn and Christina notice my frantic behaviour, and questions are fired my way.

          "Babe, what's wrong?" Shawn asks with concern.

          I drop to my knees in the sand, rummaging around in one of the backpacks, looking for the small medkit I luckily brought. "It's Oscar—something's not right with him. He's worse than last night."

          "What do you mean something's not right with him?" Christina says, sounding more worried.

          After a few seconds of searching, I find the thermometer I'm looking for.

          "I really don't know, but something's just not right," I reply, sprint-walking back over to Oscar's tent, leaving Christina and Shawn in a world of confusion.

          Once I'm back inside the tent, I kneel down beside him again, the thermometer in my hand. "Oscar, I'm gonna need to put this under your tongue, okay?"

          He tries looking at me with his bloodshot eyes, only for them to roll back into his skull like a zombie. 

          "Oscar, can you understand what I'm saying?" I give him a gentle slap on the cheek, trying to get him to concentrate.

          "Yeah...I understand you, Jane," he replies with a sluggish voice. 

          "Okay, good. Now I need you to open your mouth. Can you do that for me?"

          Oscar does his best, opening his jaw an inch. Though inside his mouth is the furthest thing from a pretty sight. It looks like there is some kind of bacteria growing and spreading all over his tongue, making me want to gag. But he's my brother and I love him, so I put on a straight face for his sake.

          "Good job. Now close your mouth," I inform, placing the thermometer tip under his tongue. 

          We wait several seconds for the temperature to be read. 

          After I hear the beep, I pull the thermometer out of his mouth, and bring the digital window to my eyes. And that's when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

          "That's impossible," I whisper under my breath, not being able to comprehend what I'm looking at.

          "What—what's wrong, Jane? Did something bad happen?" There's a look of fear in Oscar's eyes, as I'm sure there is a look of fear in mine, too.

          "N-no! Everything is fine. Don't worry, Oscar." I can't help but lie with a forced smile, not wanting him to panic like me. "I just need to take your temperature one more time, that's all." So I repeat the same actions, placing the thermometer back under his tongue, praying to God himself that this is all just a misunderstanding. His temperature can't be what it read—it just can't. 

          But when I get the results back, I'm left with the exact same number—109 degrees Fahrenheit. I cringe, feeling every muscle in me stiffen like a plank of wood. My first initial thought is that we need to get Oscar some serious medical help—and need to do so right fucking now.

          "Stay here, I'll be right back," I tell him, trying my best to sound relaxed, even though I'm on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

          "Jesus, Jane.  Can you tell us what's going on?" Shawn asks as I reappear out of the tent.

          I guide him and Christina away from the scene, so Oscar doesn't have to go through the anxiety of knowing how serious his condition is. I tuck the thermometer into my back pocket, not even wanting to show the others.

          I take a deep breath. "Guys, Oscar is in some serious, serious danger right now."

          "Danger?" Christina's eyes widen. "What do you mean danger? I thought he was just sleeping?"

          "I don't know, but it's bad—really, really bad." I pause for a moment, waiting to tell them the horrifying reality. "He could literally fucking die."

          Shawn stares deep into my eyes, a mixture of both fear and confusion written all over his face.

          "Hold on a second," he replies, raising both his hands up like stop signs. "How the fuck did we just go from having the time of our lives, to Oscar being on the verge of death?"

          That's a good question. I wish I had an answer for him. I wish I had an answer for all the strange things that have been going on in the last twenty-four hours.

          "I—I don't know!" I sputter, trying to keep myself together. "We just need to get Oscar off this island—like right now!"

          Again, there's a familiar silence amongst us. Though it's more of a darker silence—a more disturbing silence. 

          And then it hits me like a ton of bricks, as we all look at each other blankly. I turn out to the horizon, seeing nothing but ocean for as long as the eye can see.

          Jesus Christ. 

          Where the hell is Pierre?