Survival by Gordon Korman Page B

hope of reasoning with him. In fact, she could think of only one way to save him.
    “Luke!” she cried. “Everybody! Come quick!”
    Shocked by the betrayal, Will turned to run. She lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his thin frame. He shook her off roughly. Her foot hooked on a low vine, and she fell heavily to the ground.
    He turned to face her. “I’ll be back, Lyss — I promise! I won’t let them do this to you!”
    By the time Luke and the others burst out of the lifeboat, he had fled into the jungle, the flicker of his torch disappearing in the density of the trees.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    Day 4, 11:10 p.m.
    The jungle was becoming familiar to Will. Who would have dreamed that he would ever know one clump of ferns from another?
    But he did. No, that wasn’t exactly true. The individual plants all looked alike, especially by torchlight. It was the progression that he was beginning to recognize: coconut palms on the right, broad-leaf whatchamacallits on the left, big step over the fallen log, those weird crisscrossing ferns dead ahead — he was almost home.
    He felt a twinge of pride. He used to be the kind of kid who fell apart when the cable went down, or when the family ran out of microwave popcorn. An eight-minute power failure threw him into a panic. But now he was making his way through dense jungle on his own, in the near-blackness of night.
    If only Lyssa could see him.
    Shehad seen him, he reminded himself. Barely ten minutes ago. And she had refused to come with him. How was he ever going to rescue her?
    Torescue Lyssa , he thought,first you have to rescue yourself .
    But how would he accomplish that? Where should he go? What should he do?
    For a moment, the silvery fog swirled around him once more. He closed his eyes and fought through it. And when he opened them again, he was at the twin palms of his camp.
    He brushed a few handfuls of dried leaves onto the remains of his fire and reached down with his torch.
    The kindling caught quickly, and in the glow of the sudden flare, he saw that he was not alone.
    At first, the creature looked like a small haystack. Then the massive head swung around and whimpered.
    Will jumped. It was the wild boar.
    Run for it!
    He stood poised, waiting for the attack. It didn’t come.
    The animal whimpered again.
    Will squinted in the firelight. Blood stained the bristly snout where the arrow still protruded.
    His hand tightened on the bow over his shoulder and he pulled an arrow from his pocket. He could kill this thing. Kill it and eat it.
    Yeah, right. You’retoo squeamish to dig out a splinter .
    He took a step forward.
    Careful.Nothing’s more dangerousthan a wounded animal .
    But this one was dying. ,
    Well, duhl That’s why you shot it, right?
    Cautiously, Will approached the boar and squatted down beside it. The red piggy eyes seemed almost colorless now, sunken into the head/snout/body. He leaned over until he was close enough to feel the hot wind of the boar’s tortured breathing. The animal regarded him suspiciously, but made no attempt to move. He reached out a hand, and the boar shrank from him, but it lacked the strength to get up.
    When he closed his hand on the shaft of the arrow, the boar squealed in pain, shaking its snout. Luckily, the arrow pulled out smoothly and easily — there was no barbed head, just a sharpened point at the end. Fresh blood trickled from the hole.
    Why was he doing this? This animal was protein, and easy hunting too. Protein meant energy, and energy was what he needed to rescue Lyssa and figure a way out of this mess.
    Will fitted an arrow into the bow and pulled back, straining to aim for the creature’s neck.
    What neck? It’s all neck! Its butt is practically an extension of its neckl
    He circled the boar, aiming behind its ears. It regarded him through distant, colorless eyes.
    Will was sweating now. This Guam humidity always made him perspire, but now it was pouring off him like Niagara Falls. Why couldn’t he do this? It