Lost Island

They had all been on a cruise liner, on a holiday when it happened. The liner was out in the open sea making her way towards the Caribbean when it sank, none of them knew why, they just crammed into a lifeboat as the sinking hulk exploded, blowing the lifeboat off of the side of the liner as shrapnel speared the lifeboat pilot, covering the raised driving port in his blood. The eight of them didn't know what to do; they were trapped in a lifeboat beside a sinking ship without any idea of where they were or what had happened, but someone had to take charge and so Michael climbed up to the drive controls and pulled the dead pilot from the chair, dropping him on the floor below. He had taken a basic boat-handling course and knew how to at least make it go in a straight line, he pushed the throttle as far as it would go and the small boat sped away from the pull of the sinking ship.

"What the hell happened back there?" asked one of the seven left on the deck below Michael, a tall girl wearing pink jeans and a purple tie-dyed crop top, her brown hair tied back in a single, plaited, ponytail.

Michael dropped down from the steering seat, he had a slim and athletic build, his short black hair stood in spikes away from his head. He was wearing jeans and a white vest-top with a denim shirt on over the top, "Apparently the liner sank, I don't know why but it exploded too, that is why our normal driver is dead at our feet. I'm Michael and I just saved all of our sorry Asses," the 19 year old said with a Russian accent.

The others looked at the dead man on the floor, then up at Michael, their saviour, their leader for the moment.

"Oh great, our saviour is a Ruski," drawled an American voice from the back, "Yank" muttered Michael under his breath,

"I know all about the Cold War my red friend, and I don't trust you one bit. Now you is gonna stop bein all leadery and I'm gonna be in charge o this liddle group" said Chris, the American, he was Blond with green eyes and was wearing shades under his Stars and Stripes bandanna, a Harley Davison Club T-Shirt and black leather trousers.

"Oh great Leader" came a mocking voice "how do you propose we survive in this lifeboat with little food between the eight of us?" the speaker was a black kid of about 18 with deadlocked hair, a Metallica T-shirt on top of light blue jeans and blue tinted sunglasses.

"You mockin me Black boy? Here I thought all you lot were yellow under your permanent tan," shouted Chris

Rachel, the girl in pink, had climbed up to the controls and was squinting through the perforated glass at the horizon, "hey guys, If you'd stop bickering you might see that smudge on the horizon, it looks like an island or something" she called down to the others

"What the hell would you know about anything outside the kitchen woman?" called Chris, adding Sexist to Michael's list of Chris' qualities

"A lot more than you Turd for Brains!" yelled an angry Rachel

Something stirred in the shadows at the prow of the boat, there was the rustling of material and a Goth emerged from the darkness, his black hair pulled into a ponytail, a single clump of it hanging over his pale face, his black shirt and jeans were covered by a black jacket that reached to his ankles, "Maybe the American could shut his mouth and let the ones who know what they're talking about get on with saving our necks. Michael, she sees something, can you get us there?" he asked, gaining a glare from Chris

Michael considered for a moment, then said " yes, I can get us there, if there is a there"

He climbed up to the controls; Rachel jumping down to the deck, glaring at Chris, Michael saw what Rachel had been talking about and turned the lifeboat towards the shape.

"Great, now we have one of those vampire worshiping freaks along for the ride, just perfect, a Ruski, A black, some girls and a freak." he looked around ".and a fat kid too. This should be fun," Chris muttered to himself.