THE LAST ISLAND

Georgian Bay, Ontario, Canada.

There are more than three thousand islands scattered across Georgian Bay.

Most people only ever see the ones that appear on maps.

The others sit quietly between the waves—covered in trees, surrounded by rocks, and forgotten by almost everyone.

You were supposed to be visiting one of the known ones.

It was supposed to be a two-and-a-half-hour boat ride.

Nothing more.

You sat on the upper deck with your headphones on, listening to Mac DeMarco as the boat tore through the water.

The wind was strong enough to push your hair across your face.

Every few seconds, the boat hit another wave, sending a violent spray of cold water over the sides.

You didn't care.

You actually liked it.

You leaned back in your seat and closed your eyes.

The music drowned out the engines.

The wind drowned out the conversations.

For a while, the entire world felt like it was just you, the ocean, and the music in your headphones.

Your mom was somewhere downstairs.

The group you'd come with was scattered around the boat, talking, laughing, taking pictures, and enjoying the trip.

You remember thinking that you wished moments like this could last forever.

Then you opened your eyes.

Something was wrong.

At first, you couldn't hear it.

But you could see it.

People were standing.

Then running.

Someone was pointing toward the lower deck.

A woman was crying.

A man was yelling something you couldn't make out.

Faces that had been relaxed only moments ago were suddenly filled with panic.

You frowned.

You pulled one side of your headphones off.

Then the other.

The music stopped.

And suddenly, you heard everything.

"GET OFF THE BOAT!"

"WE'RE SINKING!"

Your stomach dropped.

You stood up.

The boat lurched violently to one side.

People screamed as chairs slid across the deck.

You grabbed the railing.

Your heart pounded.

You looked toward the stairs.

"Mom?"

No answer.

You pushed through the crowd.

"Mom!"

The boat tilted again.

You nearly fell.

Water was already rushing across the lower deck.

People were desperately trying to get upstairs.

Someone grabbed your shoulder.

You turned around.

It was the boy.

The boy you'd noticed earlier.

The one you'd thought was cute.

Except there was nothing cute about the look on his face anymore.

He looked terrified.

"Where's your mom?"

"I—I don't know!"

Another enormous wave slammed into the boat.

The railing shook beneath your hands.

Then everything happened at once.

Someone screamed.

The lights went out.

The floor disappeared beneath your feet.

And you were thrown into the water.

---

The cold was unbearable.

You couldn't breathe.

You couldn't tell which way was up.

Your headphones were gone.

Your phone was gone.

Everything you'd been carrying was gone.

You kicked desperately, trying to reach the surface.

Your lungs burned.

Your body felt heavier with every second.

Then—

A hand grabbed yours.

You were pulled upward.

You broke through the surface, gasping.

The boy.

He was keeping you afloat.

You could barely hear him over the waves.

"Stay with me!"

You tried to answer, but you were too scared.

He pulled you away from the sinking boat.

Behind you, the massive vessel disappeared farther into the water.

And with it went your mother.

Your friends.

Almost everyone you'd come with.

You couldn't see them anymore.

You kept looking.

Hoping.

Waiting for someone to appear.

But they didn't.

Out of everyone who had been on that boat, only twenty-five people survived.

And of the group you'd arrived with—

Only one other person survived besides you.

Your mom didn't.

You didn't even get to say goodbye.

---

The survivors began swimming toward what looked like an island.

Nobody knew exactly how far away it was.

Nobody knew whether they could make it.

The boy stayed beside you.

He was an extremely strong swimmer—Level 11, one of the highest levels among the passengers.

Without him, you probably wouldn't have survived the water.

But even he was getting tired.

The water was freezing.

Your hands were numb.

Your legs felt like they barely belonged to you.

Everyone kept telling each other to keep going.

"Just a little farther."

"Don't stop."

"We're almost there."

But the island never seemed to get closer.

Two people eventually couldn't keep swimming.

The group tried to help them.

They really did.

But everyone was exhausted.

The cold was taking everything from them.

Eventually, there were no more voices behind you.

You didn't look back.

You couldn't.

You kept swimming.

Because stopping meant admitting that you might not make it either.

---

Then, finally—

Your hand struck something solid.

Sand.

You dragged yourself forward.

You collapsed onto the beach.

You could hear people coughing, crying, and gasping for breath around you.

You rolled onto your back and stared at the gray sky.

For a few seconds, you simply lay there.

Alive.

But completely numb.

You turned your head.

The boy who saved you was lying a few feet away.

He was alive.

So were twenty-three others.

You slowly sat up.

And that's when you realized something.

This wasn't the island you were supposed to visit.

There was no dock.

No cabin.

No road.

No people.

No boats.

Nothing.

Just dense forest stretching away from the beach.

You looked back at the water.

The Georgian Bay stretched endlessly around you.

Your mom was gone.

Most of the people you'd come with were gone.

Your old life was somewhere beneath those waves.

And now there were only 25 survivors standing between you and complete isolation.

You looked toward the forest.

The boy beside you slowly stood.

Neither of you knew it yet...

but surviving the sinking had only been the beginning.

THE LAST ISLAND

Georgian Bay, Ontario, Canada.

There are more than three thousand islands scattered across Georgian Bay.

Most people only ever see the ones that appear on maps.

The others sit quietly between the waves—covered in trees, surrounded by rocks, and forgotten by almost everyone.

You were supposed to be visiting one of the known ones.

It was supposed to be a two-and-a-half-hour boat ride.

Nothing more.

You sat on the upper deck with your headphones on, listening to Mac DeMarco as the boat tore through the water.

The wind was strong enough to push your hair across your face.

Every few seconds, the boat hit another wave, sending a violent spray of cold water over the sides.

You didn't care.

You actually liked it.

You leaned back in your seat and closed your eyes.

The music drowned out the engines.

The wind drowned out the conversations.

For a while, the entire world felt like it was just you, the ocean, and the music in your headphones.

Your mom was somewhere downstairs.

The group you'd come with was scattered around the boat, talking, laughing, taking pictures, and enjoying the trip.

You remember thinking that you wished moments like this could last forever.

Then you opened your eyes.

Something was wrong.

At first, you couldn't hear it.

But you could see it.

People were standing.

Then running.

Someone was pointing toward the lower deck.

A woman was crying.

A man was yelling something you couldn't make out.

Faces that had been relaxed only moments ago were suddenly filled with panic.

You frowned.

You pulled one side of your headphones off.

Then the other.

The music stopped.

And suddenly, you heard everything.

"GET OFF THE BOAT!"

"WE'RE SINKING!"

Your stomach dropped.

You stood up.

The boat lurched violently to one side.

People screamed as chairs slid across the deck.

You grabbed the railing.

Your heart pounded.

You looked toward the stairs.

"Mom?"

No answer.

You pushed through the crowd.

"M