A/N: Hello, hello my darlings? Did you miss me? Of course you did! Well, this week has gone fantastically. Prom is in 2 weeks, me and my lady-date are trying to find somewhat matching dresses, and while I won't get to ride in a limo, I will be going to my last prom (possibly last. I could always get some junior boy to take me next year, if I really put on the charm but that means effort)! I'll graduate on May 15 which means I have something like 30 school days left. I've never been so happy in my life!

Anyway, I thank you darlings for reading my story! Please, enjoy...

For Cadavers with Soul - Part Two

Francis spoke with authority, his tone being what Morgan had conveniently dubbed his "businessman voice." It was a take-charge, direct-orders, booming voice that got everyone moving quickly to his beat. He had been - before the plane crashed, and having his leg amputated in an operation Spencer had to perform - a great salesman, and would have probably gone on to do more incredible things. But for now, he was stuck on an island, telling a few dozen people to get their butts in gear. No one was to be outside after sunset unless they had a chaperone or buddy; nobody was allowed to wander off by themselves without telling somebody first. No one should be alone. No one was to squat and poop without his say so.

When Spencer finally reached his side, Francis was done with his rules and restrictions, turning to her with a small frown. "Hey, are you sure you're alright?"

"Of course I'm not alright, Francis. I was looking at a dead body. If you're asking if I will be all right, then yes, I suppose I will." She sound bitter, but didn't care, because she had to touch a dead body with only a pair of palm leaves to cover her hands. It had been clumsy and disgusting, but she had done what she could. Her voice sounded detached in her own ears as she spoke. "He died, obviously, from blunt force trauma to the head. Essentially, half his head caved in. No worries though, he passed out after the third blow, which landed squarely in his temple. He didn't feel anything after that."

Francis was staring at her, and she stared back unblinkingly, ignoring the shock and horror that entered his face. He turned away, reaching up to smooth out his wispy beard. "Oh God, that's..."

"A tragedy," she supplied, glancing down at her hands. They weren't stained with blood, but God, did it feel like it. "It's a tragedy that he had to be killed on an island with thirty-one strangers and none of his family members around to remember him." She shook her head, squaring her shoulders against the icy feeling that raced down her spine. "Let's just hope we catch the guy before he does it again."

Francis looked back to her, brow furrowed. "You think they'll kill again?"

She ignored the prickling of her skin, the gooseflesh raising along her forearms as she stared him down. "You know, Francis, this person isn't the only one who's wanted to kill someone before. They were just the only one here with enough balls to do it." She whipped around and stalked back towards her hut, because she needed some solitude least she say anything else.

Someone grabbed her arm as she moved through the crowd - who had yet to disperse, too busy chatting up Tracy, who was sucking up the attention the way he sucked up food - and she snatched it back, her cry of surprise dying in her throat as Jessica slithered up to her, scowling. "Can you believe these people? The crap that comes out their mouths..."

"They accuse you of murder yet?" She kept her tone light and Jessica rolled her eyes. "That was so funny I forgot to laugh."

Spencer shrugged. "I just figured they'd all think the guy owed you some money and you decided to get the drop on him."

"What the heck, Spenc. I'm not some drug dealer. You know I'm not! I've been clean for a hundred days!"

Spencer paused, her smile falling. "One hundred? Wow."

Jessica toyed with the gold charm bracelet around her wrist, featuring four different charms representing something personal to Jessica - a little thing she had picked up in rehab. They had been on that plane, leaving the hospital once again, because she had relapsed. Of course she didn't listen to the doctors when they said she should stay in a halfway house, but chose to live with their parents, where she could be out in the "real" world. Spencer didn't understand her obsession with the "real" world. Hadn't that been the world she was trying to escape by doing drugs in the first place?

Jessica shrugged this time, nonchalant. "Yeah, just about. I figured if I could survive a plane crash, I could stop smoking." She bowed her head, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I don't hang around D'Shawn or Lafawnduh anymore, 'cause that would just make me want to smoke more."

Spencer bobbed her head in agreement. "When we get rescued, Mom and Dad will be way more excited to learn you quit." She kept her mouth from saying "Instead of disappointed like they always are." But it was the truth. Spencer was the good girl, Jessica was the wild child. They were too different from each other, and Jessica had always been the one doted on because Spencer was so independent and successful and ambitious. Spencer never needed help, never needed rescuing. Spencer was perfect.

Jessica pursed her lips. "Yeah, well, we'll see..." She rubbed her arm, smoothing her fingers over old track marks. "Where you headed?"

"Back to the hut." She paused, breathing deeply. "I, uh, need a minute."

"Got your Jimmies rustled?"

Spencer shot her a look. "You're not cute."

"Hey, I happen to think I'm pretty freaking adorable, Nancy Negative."

A/N: I hope that wasn't too short for you. This whole story amounts to about 12 pages, and while that was practically too big for my AP Lit class (I feel sorry for my teacher. She had to read about 30 of these) it's a little on the small side here. Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed the story! Thank you for reading! Please, review, review, review! I always what to hear from my readers. I'll respond and everything, I don't bite, I promise! Remember, darlings, keep your dreams close ~ A Dreamer Always