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Just as Noodle had feared, her day of searching the island for supplies was unproductive. Most of the area was nothing but endless hills and valleys of broken bottles and empty containers and dirty diapers and old refrigerators and the like. In fact, she might have even gotten lost if she hadn't been careful about keeping track of garbagy landmarks and the shape and curve of the shoreline. As it was, the searching itself was quite tiring, since the ground was extremely uneven and she had to watch out for all sorts of broken glass and medical waste and who knew what else. It was rough going.

Whenever she found anything that resembled part of Murdoc's recording studio, she made her way over to it, and checked it out. Those areas were the most likely to contain food, water, and other things that might be useful. Unfortunately, however, most of the chunks of wall that she found were just that-chunks of wall, with no pieces or contents of any of the rooms they had once adjoined anywhere in sight. Or they were charred beyond recognition from the fire.

She especially kept an eye out for any type of harbor or cove, and any buildings or "caves" that might be near it. If Murdoc had had all those subs, he must have had a marina of some sort where they were kept. If she was lucky, there might be a sub or boat still in there that she could use to escape the island. But she didn't find anything like that either. Just endless refuse and water and bickering seagulls.

As promised, she made her way back to the shelter around noon to check on the Boogieman. It appeared to be asleep when she entered the shelter-it was stretched out beside the window and didn't raise its head when she entered. It seemed to be doing all right though, so Noodle didn't disturb it. She filled its water bowl and left it another piece of cheese, then went back outside the shelter and climbed to the top of another small garbage hill, where she finished off the first bottle of water and ate half her granola bar.

One bottle of water, two pieces of cheese, and half a granola bar. That's all we've got left. She tried her best not to worry and concentrated on planning out the rest of the day while she rested. There was still a section of the island behind three large trash hills to the west that she hadn't yet explored. As well as most of the beach on the west side of the island. She still had half the day left, and there were still plenty of places she hadn't looked. She could still find food or water or even a way to escape. It wasn't time to panic yet.

It wasn't time to panic, but it was time to get moving. Taking one last swallow of water, she put the empty bottle into her pack (it could still be handy to transport liquid in, if she found some) and headed for the west side of the island.

About an hour later, she had made it over the trash hills and was rewarded with the site of an intact corner of the studio. Two walls, part of the roof, AND a window. Through which she could see what appeared to be furniture. Hardly believing her good luck, she had to blink her eyes a few times to make sure what she was seeing wasn't some strange mirage. When it did not disappear, even after she pinched herself, she had to accept that is was real. Practically squealing with delight, she forced herself to move carefully toward it (as much as she wanted to run, a broken ankle was the last thing she needed out here).

It was fairly cramped inside, and pretty dark too, since the bit of roof overhead blocked out most of the sunlight, but she could see that it had dark maroon wallpaper and a single lamp hanging cockeyed in the middle of the ceiling. The wall to her right was covered with a large grouping of pictures, and across the room from her was a large overturned easychair. And next to the chair was a small, rectangular shape…

She hardly dared to hope. Was that a little refrigerator?

She picked her way over to it, mindful of the broken glass all over the floor, and pulled the small refrigerator's door open. The overpowering scent of alcohol filled her nostrils as shattered booze bottles came tumbling out of the fridge to add their contribution to the mess on the floor.

"Murdoc-san!" she shouted in dismay to the empty room. "I should have known all you'd have in there is liquor!" Trying to stifle her disappointment, she glanced back inside the fridge and shook her head. Not even a jar of olives or a half a lime. Just spilled alcohol and broken glass. So much for finding food here. She slammed the little door shut in disgust and turned to leave. This particular search had certainly been a bust. And this little room had looked so promising too. She crunched miserably through the broken glass back toward the missing section of wall that she had entered from.

She couldn't help but give the pictures a curious glance as she passed them though. To her surprise, they were full of familiar faces. There was Murdoc, giving his usual creepy scowl. Russel, with his little fez balanced precariously on his head. Several people whom she recognized from the beach when she and Russel had first arrived. Collaborators with Murdoc. They looked like musicians, so perhaps they had helped Murdoc with the music on his new album. And in the upper left corner, there was 2D, with his typical clueless look. Clueless, unhappy look. She felt a touch of sorrow, looking at his picture. He had always been so animated and full of cheer for as long as she'd known him. Yet here, and on the beach when she'd first arrived, he'd looked so haggard and tired and miserable. She wondered again what exactly had been going on at this island before she'd arrived.

"D-san…" she murmured, reaching up to touch the picture. She paused, almost smiling as thoughts of happier times flitted through her mind and then were gone.

Impulsively, she took 2D's picture down from the wall. She would bring it, and her other friends' pictures back with her to the shelter. True, it was silly, but she thought perhaps having those pictures there would cheer her and motive her not to give up. As much as they had angered her, she still cared about them, and she wanted to keep their memories close at hand while she was stuck in this awful place.

She took Murdoc's picture off the wall. Then scanned the upper row of pictures, looking for Russel's. Ah, there it was. Right next to…

Russel's picture fell from her hand and clattered to the floor.

From a place of honor on the wall, right between 2D's spot and Russel's, the cyborg looked back at her.

The other two pictures slipped from her other hand and joined Russel's on the floor.

"Uhhh…" The sound that escaped her lips was barely more than a moan. It was the kind of sound she might make if the wind had been knocked out of her. She dropped her eyes from the picture of the cyborg and stared at the wall without really seeing it. "Uhhh…"

Why…?

She closed her eyes and leaned hard against the wall, her head pressed against the picture of some smiling rapper.

Why must you continue to perpetuate this delusion?

Something stagnant and fetid stirred deep within her.

It terrified her.

Her hands clenched against the wall, her nails carving shallow tears through the maroon wallpaper.

Why do you pretend? Why do you-?

"Enough!" she screamed out. "I KNOW it's all lies! I know, I know, I KNOW!"

She seized the picture of the cyborg off the wall and hurled it across the room. The glass shattered and the metal frame clanged as it hit the wall and then fell to the floor.

A roar escaped her throat as she picked up the other three pictures off the floor and flung them at the wall too. Harder.

Almost before the last picture had hit the ground, she had run over to them and slammed her foot down on the nearest, shattering glass, smashing wood, smearing her former bandmates' faces with dirt and garbage and filth from the bottoms of her shoes. She continued to scream wordlessly as she punished her former friends in the only way she could.

With one last howl, she picked up all four pictures, heedless of the broken glass that cut her hands, and ran from the room, heading toward the beach, this time not caring in the slightest about the treacherous footing and dangerous obstacles underfoot.

"I HATE you!" she screamed out, hurling Murdoc's picture into the filthy water, as far out as she could throw it.

2D's followed. "I h-hate you too!" she cried out as she hurled it after Murdoc's.

"And you too!" she forced herself to say to Russel's. True, he hadn't been involved in any of this, least of all the creation of the cyborg, but she was through trying to fool herself into thinking that ANY of them had ever given a damn about her. Russel was surely just as phony and selfish as the others. "I hate you too! I hate you ALL!" She flung Russel's picture to join the others in the stinking sea.

She seized the final picture, that of the cyborg, and threw it into the sea without looking at it. "They're yours now!" she spat. "You can have them! They're all a bunch of fakes, just like you! You four deserve each other!"

Then she was running along the beach, futilely trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and her memories and pain.