It was dark, with a light drizzle falling from the sky, and Laura had been out in the rain just long enough to be soaked to the bone and freezing. She had been making her way around the supposedly deserted island for three days, fighting for her life the entire time, trying to keep her skin and muscle attached to her bones, much to the resident cannibals dismay. They were no uncivilized, primitive tribe as the movies may have led one to believe. They were armed to the teeth with modern weaponry, machine guns and ammo aplenty, whereas the only reliable weapon she could hold on to was a bow and a quiver full of compound arrows she had found in one of their camps. She could use their guns as well, but she did not have access to their supply of ammo, whereas the arrows were well made and could be retrieved.
She was overlooking one of the more advanced outposts, contemplating how she was going to infiltrate it, and what she would do once she had. She knew she had to get off the island. Her plane had crash landed on it during a storm, destroying her navigation and communication systems, and she had been fortunate to stay conscious long enough not to be found by the inhabitants. She didn't know if she was thankful the deserting of the island had been a myth - it gave her a chance at survival, but she wasn't exactly fond of the thought of being eaten. Perhaps in the outpost she would be able to find something she could use to send out a radio signal as an SOS. Even then, she would have to be careful - if someone did pick it up, they would be going directly to the source, meaning she would have to stay near the outpost. And while she may be able to infiltrate it, there was no way she would be able to completely overtake it.
At least, not while it was in one piece.
She wrapped the end of one of her arrows with a piece of cloth that she had soaked in gasoline she had saved from one of the other outposts. Only a small bottle of it, but she had thought it might come in handy for this kind of scenario. It took a few tries, but she was able to crack some sparks off of two steel arrow tips, igniting the cloth. Quickly, she knocked the arrow, pulled back, and fired.
She watched the flaming arrow arc through the air, the gasoline preventing it from being extinguished by the rain. It struck true on her target - a massive gas tank that was powering the outpost on the western side. It pierced the side of the container, and for a moment, there was silence. And then the tank exploded, releasing a bright flash of light, and the power immediately died.
She would be down another arrow. But hopefully it would be worth it.
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