I never thought I’d hear the familiar voice of a baseball announcer resonate from the treetops of this godforsaken island. I listened to the announcer’s voice struggling to overpower the loud hum of the radio static. Back home, I probably would have quickly tuned the radio to block out the unbearable sound, but now, it was music to my ears.
   

“John? John! Do you hear it?” I asked eagerly as I clasped a hand to my brother’s shoulder. I could barely see him in this blasted darkness, but I could just envision him now, scanning the forest through the foggy lenses of his spectacles.
   

“Do tell me I’m not mad, John, can you hear it? It’s the World Series!” I laughed. “And to think! I was going to get ol’ Walter to tell me the game word from word!” I could feel John smile, which was a thing he rarely did.
   

“Bill Slater’s voice has never sounded more beautiful,” He huffed, sweat dripping down his forehead. I patted him on the back, a little harder than he expected. He stumbled forward a bit, but then gave an amused chuckle.
   

“Sounds like the Tigers are winning,” I said after a moment of taking in bits and pieces of the broadcast. John laughed.
   

“You’re just saying that because you want the Tigers to win, Glenn.” He said sarcastically. I smiled.
   

“Maybe.”
   

We tried to our best ability to find the radio concealed somewhere in the jungle, yet the insects and the dark of night got the best of us. We found only ourselves to grow wearier and our mouths to become drier after our search.
   

I figured dawn was nearing as we strayed farther and farther away from our tiny camp. A pale light was beginning to consume the stars with a raging hunger, gray clouds following closely behind, ready to devour the sky completely. It almost seemed as the night faded, the sound of the broadcast did as well.
   

We found ourselves exhausted and slumped against a tree, John looking a bit more winded and delirious than me. After all, bookworms read fast, they don’t run fast.
   

I took a moment to concentrate on the broken up broadcast of the game, taking in bits and pieces at a time. I couldn't help but give a smug grin when I heard the words “Detroit” and “in the lead”. It was just about the last thing I heard until the clarity of the broadcast was abruptly interrupted by the sizzling of static.
   

I looked up only to see what was once a growing luminescence had now consumed the sky entirely. My brows furrowed when I realized that the single noise of the static was now not alone. It was a small voice, one that sounded full of disappointment and slightly filled with rage. I sat up and cast my gaze over at John, who appeared to be quite vacant at the moment, and shook him lightly.
   

The voice seemed to be in an entirely different dialect which intrigued me to investigate. Could this solitary island not be uninhabited like we thought? A part of me almost hoped that it was.
   

I wasn’t sure how my eyes had spotted it so quickly, yet there it sat. Perched in a tree just like an owl, a small figure lounged on a wide limb bombarded in viridian colored vines. How strange the scene was laid out; It almost seemed fake, like a mirage.
    

It was fiddling with the various knobs on the radio, attempting to regain the signal that was once there. It muttered something out of frustration and quickly switched the radio off, replacing the racket of nonsense with the sounds of morning. Both John and I took position behind a large banyan tree while the crickets creaked and the cicadas rattled, muffling out the crunching of dried leaves beneath our feet.
   

It may have been John who let out a soft sneeze or I who had maybe stifled a cough, yet whatever it may have been it caught the figure’s attention. I thought of the option of just continuing to remain hidden, but the possibility of having an unwanted presence here on this island seemed to likely.
   

Leaving John behind, I calmly stepped out to where the figure could see me, trying my hardest not to pose a threat. I was met with a pair of eyes, hazel in color and full of everything but fear. I swallowed hard.
   

“I’m assuming you were upset because you didn’t get to hear the rest of the game?” I asked gently, hoping the individual knew our language. It slowly began to emerge from the shadows of the leaves, only the lavender light illuminating the embodiment only a little. It appeared to be wary, yet not afraid.
   

“Tell me, why does your country begin to settle when our sun rises?” A voice slowly inquired, sounding as if it were thinking about how to pronounce each syllable of every word. It was coated in a strange accent, one I hadn’t heard before. I didn’t expect it know English, then again, I hadn’t expected it to have a radio either.
   

“The sun doesn’t sleep in our country until it high noon on your island,” I replied in a light tone and with an amused smile. The figure narrowed its eyes, but then slowly began climbing down the other side of the tree. I saw it place the radio gently underneath its arm as it searched for a foothold in the trunk. It waited a moment before peering out from behind the tree, giving me a glimpse of a patch of shaggy brown hair.   
   

“Why does it wait so long before it sleeps? Don’t we all share the same sun?” It’s eyes flickered back and forth between me and the banyan tree John remained hidden behind. I couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. It was a rather curious being.
   

“Well, it leaves so it can come shine brighter on your island,” I stated, wiping the sweat off the back of my neck. Moments passed before it snickered and gave an, I have to admit, unexpectedly white grin.
   

“Maybe the sun likes our island more than your country. That’s why it leaves and comes here, no?” I could now see it's (or now what appeared to be his) entire face peering from behind the tree. His skin was dark, but the freckles that dappled his cheeks were darker. I wasn't quite sure what it was, but some form of white paint rested underneath his left eye, taking a form similar to stripes on a wild, predatory cat.
   

“Maybe you're right,” I smiled, still trying to coax him into revealing himself in the clearing. I motioned for John to slowly make his way towards me.
   

At the same time, the individual slowly stepped into the shade of the tree, the radio tucked safely and securely underneath his arm. He was small and much younger than both John and I. His ears were rather large and his nose was scrunched up like a rabbit. Just like his face, dark freckles were dispersed on his shoulders and forearms. His attire seemed quite aureate, nothing like anything we’d wear back at home. He was clad in a pale blue tunic of sorts, adorned with several designs and patterns. His trousers were abnormally large and baggy, similar to the ones that pilots usually wore. Other than his childish appearance, I could say that the boy was no younger than eighteen or nineteen. 
   

“If I may ask, where did you get that?” I heard John ask beside me. The boy stumbled backward when John took a step towards him. John quickly retracted his foot and held up his hands, signaling that he had no intention of harming the boy.
   

The boy was wide-eyed and stumbled over his words. “It was a gift,” he swallowed, hugging the radio close to his chest. He shifted his bare feet in the dry leaves. “…You think you are the first to come here, no?” He questioned, examining both John and me carefully.
   

I blinked in astonishment and turned my attention towards John, who did the same. “Who? Are they still here?” I quickly snapped, my heart suddenly filling with hope.
   

The boy inhaled as if he were beginning to say something, yet he swiftly pursed his lips and shook his head. Just like that, my excitement faded, but my head still swarmed with questions.
   

“Do you remember how they got off this island?” I interrogated, searching for answers. The boy seemed to shift from his right foot to his left foot, staring at his toes that were now buried beneath sand and dry grass. Despite how curious he had been earlier, he appeared to be greatly disinterested now. Either that or he had an answer that he figured I did not want to hear.
   

Without looking up, he said softly, “They never got a chance to leave the island.”
   

John groaned and put a palm to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Blast it,” he whispered under his breath. Words were caught in my throat, and they were becoming harder and harder to choke down.
   

“How did they…” I stared at the boy, trying to spit out the words that were lingering on my tongue. “How did they…die?”
   

The boy’s face grew dark and unreadable as if he had no intention of letting me know the answer I wanted. He suddenly turned his face towards the sky, laying a hand over his eyes to block out the light. He then faced backed at me, pointing a single finger towards the clouds.
   

“It hasn’t rained in a while on our island,” he began, biting the inside of his cheek. Our island? He smirked and changed his expression entirely. Suddenly, the crackle of thunder in the distance rang out above our heads. “Maybe you two are just good luck.”