Disclaimer: Brodie, Tara, Davis, Kelsey, and even the damned baboons belong to someone else. I have no idea who. Whoever y'all are though, I wasn't quite happy with the ending and neither were some of my friends and so I decided to write this here alternate ending. I beg your indulgence since the only thing I gained from this was a little personal satisfaction and the knowledge that maybe I made said friends smile.

Thanks: To Kaly for beta-ing and to Helen, whose constant references to Frank's being a wuss at the end here gave this particular plot bunny life. This one's for you, Helen.

Author's Warning: I been thinking of doing this for quite awhile and today as I sat on my sick couch watching this movie for the sixth or seventh time, finally giving it my undivided attention this particular plot bunny decided it was ready to be wrote. Hopefully it makes sense, though I really meant for the thought process to be somewhat jumbled so ... well ... you'll see what I mean. Hope y'all enjoy.

"Finish it." When I said those words, that was all I wanted. For it to be over. In that moment I didn't care if any of us lived. I just wanted the bastards dead. Wanted the nightmares over. I was ready to die.

"Run!!!" Trust Davis to be thinking still of the girls.

Of the ones who might still make if off this God forsaken hellhole alive. "Davis?! What are you doing?" Tara.

Wonder if the doc had any idea what a determined young woman his daughter would grow up to be. That stubborn determination will get her killed if...

"They're giving us a second chance." And that would be the rich bitch. Gal's got a set of lungs on her, and an attitude that won't quit. But she's got grit too. Got to give her that. Wanted to tell 'em both to get the hell to the beach but then Davis managed to send the lantern flying and the explosion seemed to sap all my strength and I lie there waiting to die, Davis on the ground several feet away, damned baboons screaming in pain. Hope it hurts like hell, you sorry SOBs.

Up to that point it was all so clear. It's everything that comes after that I can't quite recall the details to. Davis was wrong. I did come here to die. Figured it to be the only way the nightmares would ever end and ain't the sorta man to put a gun to my head. Go out fighting, and all that bullshit. So what in the hell am I doing lying on a bunk in a coast guard cutter's med lab staring at the ceiling while some wet behind the ears lady doc stitches up my wounds.

One minute I'm lying there ready to die and the next I'm up and moving. Davis. I can remember glancing his way when the tower landed with a thud. Not sure what I expected to see in the light and shadows cast by the fire, but I guess the sight of him lying there waiting to die touched a nerve. "Not on my watch. Not this time."

The words seemed ripped from my throat as I surged to my feet. Then I was moving. Tara and Kelsey were already out of sight. No doubt heading for the beach and the two man raft as fast as they could run. "Some could swim along side," the spoiled little rich girl had said. To which I'd responded with my usual sarcasm, "Sharks would love that."

Guess I decided to take my chances with the sharks. "Up! Damn it, Davis! On your feet."

Toss up as to which of us is was in worse shape, but he's on his feet and somehow we're moving through the tall grass headed for the tree line and the beach beyond.

"They're behind us, damn it Brodie we're not gonna..."

"Just keep moving." Easy for me to say. Harder to do. I can hear them behind us in the grass, grunting and panting.

Damn legs feel like jello, the tendon in my right ankle pulling with every jarring step. Damn baboon nearly bit it clean through. It pops and I'm done for. Grass finally gives way to trees and rocks and sand. Then we're on the beach. Harder to run here and I can hear the damned killers gaining ground.

"It's Davis! Brodie!" Leave it to the doc's kid to state the obvious.

"Are you crazy? We've got to go!" And the rich bitch to keep right on thinking of herself. Listen to her Tara. Davis and I can't catch up, you leave our asses behind. Don't wait. I remember yelling that at her in my head, but what really happened is I went face first in the sand. Managed to glance up long enough to see that Davis was still moving. At a walk now but still moving. He was going to make it, and then I could die happy knowing no one else had died on my watch.

"Brodie!!" Doc's kid again. Tara. Tried to wave her off. Meant what I told her 'bout saving her balancing the scales.

Don't care what happens to me, she has to get off this damn island. Then Davis is there at my side. Dragging me to my feet. The move hurting him as much as it does me. It's his turn to egg me on.

"No one gets left behind this time, old man. On your feet." And somehow we're moving again. A impossibly wide stretch of sand between us and the water. Tara and Kelsey already have the raft inflated, fighting to hold on to it in the surf. Get far enough out not to be swept right back in. And behind us, those damn killer baboons. Just the thought of the bastards winning spurs me on. Davis wasted precious time to pull me to my feet. We're gonna make it

God damn it. Another warning scream. This time from the rich girl and then we're on wet sand. And finally, finally in the waves. Honestly don't know if I was pulling Davis or him me at that point but then neither of us is pulling the other as small hands close over my arms. "Get in." And then miracle of miracles I'm face down in the life raft half lying on the doc's kid. And somehow the raft built for two is carrying four, and holding.

"We made it. Thank God." And then and there, in my mind, I found myself repeating Tara Matthews' words as I listened to the baleful screams of the monsters on the beach. Wishing at the same time for my cigarettes and bottle, wanting to toast the bastards good riddance.

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