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Prendick awoke to the terrifying howls he always wakes to; he can never seem to catch a break. Not since he showed up on this god forsaken island. His bed felt how it always did, stiff and heavy, like he was sleeping on a slab of medal. The last few nights have been rougher than usual. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the air was heavier, and the waves crashed louder on the rocks. He wished he could fall asleep to the sound of the waves like he used to, but because of the beast, this was never possible. Edward knew that if he did not pity the creatures like he did, he would kill all of them. Every single last one, right where they stood.
The one thing he couldn't do, especially right now, was look in the mirror. He hasn't been sleeping, slenderized fingers plunged through his eyes. The eyes that sank deeper into his skull the more he touched them. His past few days have been revolving around the same schedule. If he can sleep, he has night terrors. The same night terrors he's had since he was a boy, the same ocean, with the same dark gray clouds that spread through the black sky. The same feelings that rushed through his body. The most prominent (and most painful) feeling he could sense creeping the tips of his fingers, that would then slowly but achingly travel until it coated his entire body. The pain would subside at last, but would leave evidence.
The sharp smell of blood hit his nose, followed by the rustic taste. He eventually taught himself to cough up the crimson right when he awoke. The sensation after an incubus was always identical. The man jolts awake, coughs, and sometimes (If he's able to) take a cold bath. He never gave his nightmares such thought, he presumed the more he thought about them the more they wouldn’t leave his head. The bathtub he seldomly used was given to him by Montgomery himself, three weeks after he arrived on this dreadful island because of the same exact man.
The tub was made of lead, with a shell of sheet copper fused to it. When Prendick first received it he never used it. He tried once but despised the feeling the copper generated on his skin, but eventually he was able to tolerate it. When the feeling is unbearable, Edward focuses on the tiny details Montgomery sculpted into the copper. His favorite of them all though, was his initials that were carved into the inside rim. Filled in gold, it shimmered every time light hit it. But since this weeks been cloudy, and Edward couldn't get in the tub, he hadn't seen the shine in awhile. He envied its shine sometimes, but he would never admit that.
Montgomery hasn't left his room since Moreau died. Which was exactly four days and nine hours ago, but to Montgomery- felt like minutes ago. He found himself staring at the ceiling, studying the dank wooden boards that covered the ceiling. These were the same boards he carried on his own back; creating the cabins that would soon become more populated around the Island. The more he brushed his palms against the plain sheets which he slept on, he thought about Prendick. If he wasn't thinking of Moreau, (Which was always,) then it was Edward. No matter how much he worried, no matter how much he talked, he could never seem to crack him open, get in his mind. Questions were always left unanswered. No matter how drunk or sleep deprived the other man was. Prendick became his puzzle, and he was hoping to solve it, somehow.
He sat up, for the first time in a while. His feet didn't want to move- they agonizingly begged for Montgomery to give up, but he knew if he didn't try then talking to Prendick would be off the table. He dragged himself to his closet to get dressed. Stripping off the bloodied clothes he had been wearing for days with new ones. Examining the blood, he couldn’t tell if it was his own or Moreau's. He concluded it was probably a mix of both. He was quite fond of wool waistcoats, preferably the double-breasted ones. So that's exactly what he wore.
While examining (and loathing) his face and body in the prolonged mirror that sat across his bed, he pulled and meddled at his mustache. It was getting too long, too long and too scraggly. Multiple small hairs curled in places they weren't supposed to, stabbing at his top lip. He thought about asking Edward for some scissors, maybe that would be the answer to his conversation starter.
The door flung open and Montgomery was welcomed to the salty keen smell the Island had been waiting to greet him with. Montgomery always hated how loud the Island was, especially in the morning. The birds squawked and the beast howled, a disturbing reminder of Moreau's death and his own sorrow. There were no clouds in the sky today. Sand clung to his shoes as he walked, he knew he was a little too eager to see Prendick- but he didn't care. To his surprise Edward was already up. Standing against his door holding a cigarette. He puffed slowly, only looking afar when he was finished with that breathe.
“Prendick.” Montgomery attempted to look at him, but he couldn't. At the time he really didn't know why. Edward didn't say anything at first, just sat there and finished his cigarette.
A few long minutes went by, and the shorter man dropped his Durry on the sand. Lifting his boot to finish it off with a few rubs.
“I feel like it's been ages since I've seen you,”
Edward brought his eyes to Montgomery's. Quickly noticing how untrimmed his facial hair has gotten, along with the hair on top of his head. Dark blonde strands sprawled below his eyebrows. Which, like always, stayed thin and direct above his almost black eyes. It has barely been a week, why did it feel so long?
“S’ only been a few days, Edward,” he took a deep, long breath before gently massaging his temples with both index fingers. A habit he picked up from Moreau the first week he met him. “As much as we both don't want to- we need to discuss what we’re going to do with this abhorrent Island,”
Prendick almost laughed, he smiled. Surely, he was not that dumb! He thought, but the puzzled look Montgomery gave him quickly disproved this.
“What do you mean, we ? What we need to discuss? Have you gone mad?” Edward snapped, contorting himself off the wall. “You have! You have officially lost your mind Montgomery!”
Edward was so angry with him all he could do was scoff, “What do you think this is? Our Island?” He thought about storming off but didn't want to deal with Montgomery and having to deal with his nightmares alone again. Secret was, he did miss Montgomery. More than he could really put into words. Well, more like, he didn't want to put them into words. Not now, not ever.
“Please Edward, I know. I know you want off this Island, I do too!” Prendick didn't know if he believed that. “-But I need help. I don't know what to do. This is Moreau's Island, not mine.”
Prendick sighed, he knew Montgomery was right. He knew he needed help with everything. As much as he didn't want to believe it, it was just the two of them now. At least human wise, and they had to stick together, even if all he wanted to do is crawl away. So, he proposed his idea.
“We leave this island.” Said he,
Montgomery scoffed. “Edward, we can't do that, all we have is a small ship, a measly ship! Can't barely fit two bloody people!”
“My good friend look around you, look where we are. Look where we stand. The middle of nowhere, on a discreet Island filled with dangerous beast. You really think those creatures will change? Look around you for god's sake,” Edward pointed to the charred bodies that scattered the islands coast. Their faces pointed to the sun, torn flesh, bite marks scattered. Their expressions twisted with fear so vividly that Edward can still remember to this day, the men that did not escape.
“They will. Please Edward believe me, I know they can.” his voice broke
“We either leave together, or I leave alone. I refuse to die here, Montgomery. If you won't listen to me, I won't try to stop you.”
Montgomery put his head in his heads and thought for a bit, he didn’t know if he was ready to abandon everything. Abandon Moreau? Abandon the work he spent years perfecting?
Was it all for nothing? Did he have no reason?
“Where will I go? Unlike you Edward, I don’t have a family to go back to. Think about my position, then shame me.” He plopped down beside Prendick, on an old tree stump that sat on the sand, among others. “I have nowhere to rest,”
“You could stay with me.” he didn’t know if he meant this.
Prendick was speaking out his ass.
-----
Prendick thought for a while that night. He agreed with Montgomery, it wasn't his Island, but that doesn't mean he's not responsible for it either. They both were on the same page when it came down to the actual question, what will happen to this Island? For now, he didn't want to think about it. No beast, no Montgomery, no Island. He just wanted to sleep, for god's sake. He just needs to sleep. He would kill for a good night's rest.
Yet he could not. As tired, and deprived as he was, every time he shut his eyes he thought. He could not stop thinking. He started to think about his future off the Island if he got that far. Build a small house, make money on articles, The plan was commenced! It was simple, simple and plain. Just what he needed. He planned to stay away from as many people as possible. Building a house in the woods would make this easier. He didn’t know where he would snag the wood and bricks, yet. He sketched his future interior design ideas on an old piece of torn clothe and wrote using a fountain pen he stole from Moreau, which now that he thought about it, felt years ago.
While rapidly writing his future objectives, he realized how ill he had become. Shifting from staying in bed all day to manic. Though, these mood changes weren't completely new to him. Days before he tried to kill himself, he was in a strange state. A state of fear, with a mix of desperation. The days before Moreau was murdered were the roughest, but Prendick wouldn’t say they were a piece of cake now. Prendick believes this island handled whatever illness he contracted. This hell hole had something to do with it. He wouldn’t believe anything but that.
Dusk rolled around quicker than he thought was possible. After planning his soon-to-be life all night, he was giddy to wake Montgomery up. This was the third night he hadn't slept, the air remained strong and heavy. The sky was splashed with dark grey, though some blue seeped through. He scooped his papers and clothes into one big bundle. While doing so, he examined the clothes he had been wearing since he first arrived on the island. Now immersed in sweat. Contributing to the layers of sweat that have long dried. Montgomery offered him clothes more than once, but he simply refused. The other man was taller and skinnier than he, so they all collected the title ill fit.
He decided not to pack much on the ship. Mainly because he didn’t have much. Less than much, more like nothing.
Prendick watched the sunrise for a while. He climbed to one of the higher areas of the Island and plopped down. Morning skies were always something he loved on the island, maybe the only thing. Today the sky danced in orange, yellow and pink. Pink overruled like it always did, leaving the orange and yellow tints to scatter where they could fit. Edward Definity preferred this over the usual mornings, he never remembers to watch the sunrise anymore. He missed it, reminded him of his mother.
The wind picked up, causing the palm trees to sway. There was a favorable mix of greenery on the Island, tall Ramón Trees dominated, along with butternut trees. Prendick realized his favorite of the plants were the passion flowers. They had such a variety of diverse types, purples, blue, magentas, and pinks. (Though, purples were always his favorite.) He made sure to sniff the center every time he passed one. No matter how he was doing mentally, the aroma always managed to put him at ease.
The rustle of leaves snuck up behind him, fearing the worst, the man pulled his knife and thrashed. Expecting some snarling beast, he was mistaken.
“My, Prendick! Spare me!” Montgomery teased,
The other man let out a sigh of relief, and gave his apologies for being on edge, “Don't be, Edward.” Montgomery gestured him to move over and claimed his spot aside him on the rock.
Prendick clasped his hands. “Do you think you’ll be ready by next morning?” he asked
“I hope so. I decided to leave a lot, to many memories. Most of my work is pointless now anyway.” Montgomery looked over at Edward before continuing, “-Moreau's probably cursing me from above, poor bastard. Let's hope he doesn't damn me to hell.”
Edward wasn’t really listening to what Montgomery was talking about, he was studying the way Montgomery's eyelashes fluttered when he spoke. The first time he discovered this he was making lunch for him and Moreau, the same lunch they always had on heavy working days. Meat pie and berries he picked from the overgrowth near the shore. He would bring them lunch and Montgomery would always reply the same. “I'm starv ing, much obliged Prendick!” while flickering his eyes.
Prendick realized darker clouds rolling Infront of the sun, a repetitive clank sounded aside him, “Jokes behind us, I fear Moreau is angry with me. Angry with the beast, with you, with everything. Sometimes I think, how dare I disobey my mentor? Am I expecting my own defeat Prendick?” Montgomery poked at him, “Are you listening?”
Edward was not, but he nodded anyway. The clank sound continued, so he looked around for the source, he spotted it quickly. A large brown bottle Montgomery held onto, letting it lay against the rock. He had been drinking this morning. Ever since Edward knew him Hes been a drunk. So, this didn’t come as much of a surprise. “You really should stop blaming yourself,” Prendick finally replied. He feared silence took him over for too long.
“You,” he took a breathe. “You are wrong my friend,” Montgomery scoffed before leaning semi-consciously onto the man next to him. “There is no one to blame, but myself.”
The alcohol was strong on Montgomery's breath. The sweet smell hit him like a ton of bricks. “My dear friend, I have always envied you. You! Out of all people, a sailor!” Montgomery took a swig of the bottle, which was halfway empty. “What make you so special? Why am I so engrossed by you?” he sighed, placing a warm hand upon Edwards leg. Heat radiated off his body, which wrapped around Prendick.
“Stop your drunken rambling. Get up, you must sleep. Look at you.” Prendick replied
“Please, Prendick. How do I,” Montgomery couldn’t find the words. “How do I get through this.” His pale face grew a more pinkish tone to it, Edward would never bring this conversation up to him when Hes sober.
“We will get through this. Get up. Montgomery,” he swung the taller man's arm around him, moving him off the rock and stumbled to Montgomery's room. He groaned, who would have thought, such a skinny man would be so heavy? It felt as if Montgomery's body was full of Alcohol itself. Weighing him down, purposefully.
“I'm sorry Prendick, look at me. A hopeless drunk, that’s all I’ll ever be.” at least that's what Edward heard him say. Montgomery's speech was almost inaudible.
“You speak nonsense, look at what this liquid does to you.” By the end of this sentence, the two men have already arrived at the door where Montgomery usually lay. Prendick opened the door, stripped the sot of his top clothes, and placed him in bed. Not even seconds and he was already asleep. Prendick didn’t mean to stare, but he needed to catch his breath.
Sweat beaded on the top of his friend's forehead, which unlike when Hes sober, caused the hairs that sat on his forehead to curl. He thought to clean up the wetness, but ultimately did not. Edward preferred when his hair looked like this, curled up and messy. It just seemed to fit him more. But he would never share this with anyone.
Prendick sat down, right there on the floor. He felt so exhausted, not just from carrying Montgomery. He examined the room. The bleak walls that matched his, the same dark brown planks on the ceiling, the same tan wooden floors, though differences were noticeable. Montgomery had a framed picture on his nightstand. Edward concluded it was him as a boy. He wondered who took the photo.
He didn’t realize it yet, but he was crying.
----
He decided to let Montgomery sleep.
While he waited, he cleaned the boat up, getting it ready for travel. He scrubbed, wiped, and dusted about every inch of the vessel. He couldn’t tell if he was killing time or if he cared. One thing he did know, is that he was worried out of his mind. Getting back onto the water, especially after the accident, was going to be tough. He didn’t want to act stupid, especially in front of Montgomery.
The only thing he brought (other than himself) was a book Moreau let him borrow. Since he couldn't return it, he didn’t want to leave it to rot. This wasn’t some sentimental borrow, though. The first time Prendick was showed his room, he found this book lying in the middle of his bed. It was titled ‘The Scarlet Letter,’ written by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Prendick never actually opened the book, which hurts a little to admit.
Edward wondered how long the beast would survive. The amount of prey, water, and shelter would last them a few years max. He thought more than once to go slay them all to save the suffering, but the risk was too high. If he died, then Montgomery would have to travel alone- he feared he was all Montgomery had left. So, he sat there, in that small ship, examining the book a dead man gifted him. Which he selfishly barely touched. He regretted that.
A tap on the shoulder. He knew it was Montgomery (who else would it be?) the man reached into his pocket, pulling out a fag.
“I wouldn’t take you as a Hawthorne fan Pendrick, you surprise me more each day!” his voice was groggy.
“I'm not, this was a gift.” Edward lit his cigarette.
“I see,” he puffed, thin strands of smoke leaking from his mouth. “Moreau's?”
“Who Elses?” His reply was dryer than he intended it to be.
Montgomery pointed to the bulky mahogany briefcase beside him, “This is all I decided to bring,” he gave Prendick a smirk, the tan hairs that collected on his top lip following with it. Prendick was going to exchange the look, but couldn’t seem to do it.
“It's just a few necessary things, clothes, blankets, you know!” he sighed dramatically,
“That should manage. We still have a few canteens of clean water on board, in addition to the fruits and berries we smuggled.”
They were both quiet for a moment. The wind attempting to rip them off the island. They were both uneasy, and it was clear, swirling in the air. “We might just get away with this, Prendick.”
“You make it sound like a crime!”
“Sit with me, just for a moment.” Montgomery climbed on the edge of the keel, pointing at the higher view they had on the shore and vegetation. “A small amount of time, Prendick. I don’t mean to blunder with our schedule.”
“You’re thinking about the beast. Aren't you?” he hoped he was right.
“Will they survive?”
Edward sat down. “Part of me hopes they do, part of me doesn’t. I can't tell which is correct.”
Montgomery rested his head on Edwards, “I think I'm ready to go.” Edward placed his hand on top of the other mans, cold. Just like they always were.