Hope On The Rocks/Issue 122

This is Issue 122 of Hope On The Rocks, entitled "Me Too".

This issue is Timmy-centric.

910, Me Too
The helicopter is in the forrest, and I like to take a few walks in the forrest. So I might as well check it out. I like new people. Well, I generaly just like living people, so as long as they’re not shooting my friends, or stabbing them in the head, they’re cool. Jim, the pilot, should be working on the helicopter right now, so I figure I can see if he needs help. Also, I’ve been thinking we should scrap the boat. I mean, we have a freaking chopper. I walk the path, a rifle in my hand in case I stumble upon a boar. I could eat some boar. Or just some rabbit, that’s fine. Or whatever I stumble upon. The helicopter should be close. I haven’t seen it, but Ridley told they were near the river. And I’m by the river now. So I should be able to see it, right? “Hey, can I help you?” I hear Jim yelling. I look around, seeing nothing. “Up here.” Jim yells, and I look up, seeing a helicopter in the trees. That might be why I couldn’t see it. “Hey.” I say, headed to the helicopter. “How’d you get up there?” “Climbed the trees. Hold on.” He says, and disappears for a few seconds. He then throw down a rope ladder. I lay my rifle on the ground, and then climb up into the chopper. It seems like it is pretty stable up there. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to get it to leave that tree. I get inside and look around. I’ve never been in a helicopter. And even though it’s not flying, it’s awesome. “Looking good, papi.” I say with a smile. “Well, not too good.” Jim mutters. “There’s a giant hole in the tank.” “What do you need to fix it?” I ask, thinking that we could take some material from the boat. “Just some metal. We have tools and batteries enough to get screw in. So just some metal.” Jim mutters, standing over, what seems to be, a battery of some sort. “Hang in there, papi.” I say and pats him on the shoulder. “I might be able to help you out here.”

So I try to help Jim out. I get to the boat where Kevin is trying to make the engine. It’s totally busted, no way we’ll get it to work with no tools. “So I’ve been thinking, papi.” I say, and lean against the boat. “Yeah, me too.” Kevin says, removing some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “We have a helicopter now, and I think we should put our strengths into that. This boat ain’t going to work again.” I say. I already have the tools to tear the boat apart, ready. A hammer and some kinds of metal scissors. No idea what you call those. “Yeah...” Kevin says. “I agree.” I didn’t except to hear that, but great. “Alright.” I say, after being confused for a few seconds. “Jimmy needs some metal for the chopper. I guess we could give him that, right?” “Sure. If that gets us off this rock.” Kevin says, and this makes me feel like I need to ask him a question. And well, I guess I need to ask that to myself too. “If they get it fixed, are you going to leave?” I ask. I know that I would. I like it here, sure, but I don’t want to end my life here. Then I’d rather die fighting. Not just relaxing on an island. “I would. You?” He replies. “Me too.” I say and smiles as we begin to tear apart the boat. “Me too, papi.”

Deaths

 * None

Credits

 * Kevin Gardner
 * Timmy Ember
 * Jim Iroas