Battle Royale
September 1992
The United States of America is now being run by dirty politicians, people who care about nothing except themselves. Children being born after September of 1992 are destined to be slaves for their superiors. The current generation of teenagers and young children have become a threat to the fascist adults and corrupt leaders.
Together, the White House and the military have come up with The Program. Each year proceeding 1992, one ninth grade class is chosen to compete in The Program. They are flown out to an island. There, they are given weapons that they must use to kill one another. The class is chosen at random and have no choice but to compete or else they will be executed.
Who will the first class of 2006?
March 2006
"It's time for school!" Jake's mother called from downstairs. Already, he could smell her bran pancakes and orange juice. His dad had already left for his job at IBM, and his sister, Eri, was nearly done eating.
He sat up in his bed and looked around. His mom had already raised my blinds and he got a perfect view of the outside world, unfortunately.
You see, in 1992 or 1993, a man named Jason Campbell had been elected as president. Over the course of the years, he did things that brainwashed people into loving him. He killed anybody who went against his rule, and the few people who managed to dodge his wrath always met an untimely fate. He had gained so much popularity that he'd managed to turn America into his royal bitch. His little ass-kisser. The people did what he said or they got their nuts chopped off.
He created this thing called The Program, just to prevent overpopulation. From what Jake had heard, it involves 9th graders killing each other.
Jason Campbell controlled everything. He's in charge of what teachers taught the students. He decided who was useless to society- the people deemed useless were put to death. Any illegal aliens would be slowly executed or burned naked. He assigns jobs to random people. He can get a bum to be the doctor or a doctor to be the village idiot who waves his dick at traffic on Fridays.
Right now, a big, smiley Jason C was staring at him from a billboard. Dumb bastard.
"I'm going!" He called back. He stood up and put on his mandatory school uniform. Underneath his dresser, in a lock box, was his cell phone. He put himself to the tedious task of moving his dresser and unlocking the box so that he could retrieve his cell phone.
Cellular telephones aren't allowed. They cause driving accidents and brain tumors, according to the Holy Jason. The only reason he had one was because his parents always wanted to know where he was and if he was safe. They knew that Jason's soldiers often captured the "young and fit youth", not that he REMOTELY fit. Young, not fit.
After setting everything back in place, he went downstairs to dine on some yummy bran, as if he didn't have it every single fucking day of my life.
"Thanks, mom." He muttered. Jake gathered his things because he didn't want to be late.
"You're welcome."
"I'll see you this afternoon, ok?"
"Ok, honey. I love you."
"I love you too, mom."
With that, he was out the door. He never had a clue about what would come next.
His name was Jake Redding. He was 14 years old, he lived Sacramento, California, and his life sucks.
---- -
"Welcome to another day, class. As you know, this is Algebra class 32H in District 3. My name is Mr. Daniels, and I expect you will learn things. But, before learning, I have a large announcement."
"And a large hard-on…" Jake's friend Aldo Leonard muttered. He stifled a laugh and continued listening to Mr. Dickweed.
"Today is the official selection of which class shall be participating in The Program."
Everybody got quiet.
Mr. Daniels took an envelope out of his tweed jacket pocket and held it in both hands patiently. Suddenly, Jason Campbell's voice blared out of the intercom system.
"TEACHERS, PLEASE MAKE THE ANNOUNCEMENT IN 3..2..1!!"
Mr. Daniel's long, bony fingers fumbled with the envelope, but he managed to take the paper out without slashing his wrists.
"Okay! Here it is. The first selection of this year is District 3's…"
Jake heard everybody stop breathing for just a second…
"…class 32..."
A couple of girls gasped and began hyperventilating…
"…H."
Immediately, his stomach dropped to his ankles and he felt his heart leap to his throat. Jesus, that was them. They were gonna compete in The Program. They were gonna have to kill each other, or be killed by others.
The door to the classroom burst open and in came three or four of Jason Campbell's men with loaded weapons. They pointed the weapons at them and everybody started screaming.
"EVERYBODY TO YOUR FEET!!!!" They shouted. Jake was the first one up, followed by Aldo, then the rest of the class.
"E-excuse me, but you can't do this! You can't do this to my-"
BANG!!
"-URGH!!"
Mr. Daniels doubled over when a soldier put a bullet in his chest. Arterial spray littered the floor as he lurched backwards. Jake watched in horror as he fell to the floor and twitched for a couple of seconds. He tried crawling backwards, but was dispatched by a bullet to the forehead.
The entire class had stopped screaming. A soldier stepped forward.
"I want every single of you students to form a single file line." He said calmly.
They did as they were told.
"File out of this classroom while we dispose of the fallen, and you'll be escorted to Bus 117."
All 20 of them walked out into the hall, calmly, quietly, in line. They didn't want to be shot by some army men, but they secretly knew that a couple of bullets would be better than what was to come. For a second, Jake contemplated getting shot, but he kept his mouth shut and continued walking.
Outside of the school, which was an ancient gothic-style building, a bus waited for them. It was a charter bus, with padded seats and air conditioner. They boarded it, one by one, each as silent as death. The doors shut, and they were off.
It was at that point that Jake realized he was no longer living. He realized that from that moment on, living would become a fight for survival. He just wanted to get this over with.
The base of operations for the "game" was a large, white, stone building that smelt of sterility inside. He scrunched his nose up at the smell and walked in. Inside was just as stony and white as the outside. 20 chairs were lined up in 2 rows in front of a large projection screen.
In the first row, the girls filled it up: Kirsten Rawson, Kristin McDonnell, Kristen Hales, Alysha Garza, Paola Hardy, Gaby Wills, Stephanie Mack, Alex Barrica, Yocelin Cramer, and Shelby Henstridge.
In the second row: Jake, Josh Palomino, Cody Flores, Aldo, Charlie Rodriguez, Aaron Carr, Marc Reilly, Gabriel Ganes, Christian Zamora, and Tommy Lee Garza.
A man in a royal-blue business suit came up to the front of them. He spoke.
"Welcome, Class 32H, District 3! Congratulations on being picked. This is sure to be a winning experience for all of you."
"Are you fucking kidding me?! 19 of us are gonna die today! How is that winning?!" Christian shouted.
"I suggest you shut your mouth, young man." The man said coldly. He continued. "Today, you children shall participate in a contest of sorts. You may have heard about it from an older sibling, or maybe an older sibling was killed because of this contest, I don't know. Still, the following video will explain the essential rules to you. Be polite while viewing this, please."
The credits began rolling for the video, almost like one of those educational movies. Jake rolled his eyes and sighed, wanting to cry.
"Hello, class, and welcome to The Program. The following video is to inform you on playing a little game. Let's proceed, shall we? To begin, the rules of the game are simple: Run, Kill, Survive. That is what you shall be doing for the next two days. Now, in just a moment, silver collars will be placed around your necks, for preventative measures. These will detonate if you stray too far from the island. Those are the basic rules. You shall be receiving a handbook with elaborate descriptions of the game-"
Silver cuffs and clasps suddenly appeared in Jake's chair. The same happened with everybody else's. Soldiers walked into the room with slender silver neck collars. There was a little black square in the front of it, and a blinking red light could be seen. Ever so gently, they placed the collars around their necks. The cuffs and clasps went away, and they were free to move again.
"-but basic descriptions will do for now. Before being set out into the island, you will be given these duffel bags-"
Camouflage duffels appeared on screen. A woman with a solemn face appeared and unzipped the bag.
"-inside will be freeze dried meals, four jugs of water in ultra-light plastic bottles, a flashlight with spare batteries, and your assigned weapon-."
The woman pulled all of these items out of the bag and revealed a super shiny hatchet. She smiled and set it down on the counter.
"This is the end of the video. Good luck and Godspeed, students."
The video cut to black and was shut off. Everybody looked around at everybody and wondered what the next step in our journey was. With a grand swagger, the man in the royal-blue suit stepped up in front of them and began talking.
"You shall be receiving updates every hour. As we call your names, please step up so that you can gather your bags. Once you do that, please walk down that corridor and the game shall begin once everybody is out.
"Gabriel Ganes!" Gabriel went up and was out.
"Christian Zamora!"
"Jake Redding!"
That was him. He stepped up and the man tossed him his bag.
10:30 a.m. Day 1
In the corridor, he didn't see Christian or Gabriel, just darkness. Toward the end, Jake saw the doors that led outside. He made a run for it and was outside in a couple of seconds.
Outside was astonishingly beautiful. Lush greenery surrounded him and cheerful exotic birds chirped in the trees but it gave him a sense of foreboding. There was just something he couldn't shake off. Also, there was the slightest hint of a weird smell in the air. Was it gunpowder?
A rustling in the bushes made him jump and frown. Instantly, he reached into his bag and found his weapon. What was it? Was it a hunting knife? A machete? No. It was a hammer. Nice. Jake rolled his eyes and walked over to the bush. Then, with the head of the hammer, pushed aside the leaves and found Christian. He had a blank look on his face and tears were flowing down his cheeks. Blood was running down the side of his mouth, and his hands were tightly clamped over a shotgun wound in his stomach.
"Oh.. My God." Jake whispered.
Suddenly, Christian started convulsing for a minute before lying still, dead.
A hiccup left Jake's mouth. He grabbed his bag and ran into the jungle. He couldn't do this, he couldn't.
As he ran, the trees rushed past him in a vortex of green and brown. He ran for nearly five minutes before tripping over a stupid tree root.
"Oof!" His breath left him in a whoosh and he lay there, dazed. "I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die…" He chanted over and over again. He had just witnessed someone die in front of my eyes. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed his mother's number.
"You receive no reception. You will be directed to Voicemail."
"Uh, Mom? I'm not sure if you heard, but my class is in The Program. I don't know if I'll ever see you again, but in case I don't, I wanna let you know that I love you and Dad, and Eri, and Grandma, too. If I don't make it home in two days, you know why." He pressed END and flipped it closed. He set it on the ground and raised my hammer. After taking a deep breath, he brought it down with everything he could muster and watched as little silver pieces flew everywhere.
A sob left his throat and he sunk down against a tree. Tears flowed down his eyes and he sat there for a while. It felt nice. The trees provided nice shade and the breeze was nice and cool. Little mosses grew everywhere. He stood back up when he realized that he was a sitting duck.
Jake trekked back to Christian's dead body and searched his supply bag. In it, he found a large wrench and he took one of the water bottles. Now he had extra water, and a wrench. Not bad.
Once he had stowed everything in his bag, he turned and scanned his surroundings. As far as he could tell, there was just a lot of forest. There had to some path he could follow or something, right?
"Okay, okay, you can do this, come on." He took a deep breath and began walking.
---- -
Stephanie Mack had no idea what to do. Here she was, alone, in the middle of a jungle or something, and her fellow students were out to kill her. She wanted to find Alex. The two of them could stick together and hopefully win this.
She had seen this little weirdo named Kristen Hales running around with two machine guns, but she hadn't seen anybody else. Kristen was obviously out for blood.
"So stupid, UGH!" She muttered as she took several bugs out of her hair. In her bag was a meat hook in case she had to use it, but nothing too important. Besides-
"AYYYYIIII!!" She screamed when a huge spider came down in front of her.
"AYYYYIIII!!" She screamed again when a figure leaped out at her. It was Kristen and her big fucking guns. She was just standing there, pointing the guns at her. How weird.
"Hi Kristen."
"Hi Stephanie. Christian's dead. His body's in the bushes. Wanna see it?"
"Eww gross, no!"
"Ok. It's really cool. He was shot in the stomach. Someone already took his weapon."
"Are you okay?"
The two girls stood there silently, approximately 4 feet from each other.
"So, uh, yeah… awkward, huh?" Stephanie chuckled dryly.
"Not really, or, not anymore."
"What do you mean?"
The next sounds assaulted Stephanie's ears like those would of a thousand banshees. Bullet after bullet flew out of the two guns and smacked into Stephanie's flesh like little hornets hitting a door. A bloody spray tinted the air a brilliant crimson. Kristen continued to fucking stand there, the same blank look on her face. Once she came close to emptying the clip, Kristen walked away, whistling like the little stupid psychopath she was. It wasn't fair.
"Fucking-" Stephanie began, but fell to the floor, dead, before she could finish her statement.
Suddenly, Kristen's head poked out of the vegetation. She strolled over to Stephanie's dead body whilst whistling, took the bag from next to the corpse, emptied it's contents out onto the ground, and grabbed the meat hook.
Kristen walked away, whistling a happier tune than before.
---- -
What the hell was that?
Jake turned around and frowned. They were most definitely gunshots. Not like the shotgun that had killed Christian, but rather a machine gun. They had just finished killing somebody because he'd heard screams.
"Some of those fuckers are playing the game." A voice said. Jake nearly screamed and whirled around with my hammer in front of me. It was Aaron Carr.
"Aaron, uh, hi."
"Hi. Are you planning on playing this game?"
"Only if I'm forced to. Ask not, receive not, you know."
"Yeah, I like that."
"Did you know that Christian Zamora is dead?"
"Yeah, I nearly tripped over him when I got out of that building."
"Why do I get the feeling you're about to make a move?"
"I'm not gonna do-" He lunged at Jake with a meat cleaver in his hand.
"What the fuck!" He gasped. Jake threw myself backwards and narrowly avoided getting his throat slashed. From the floor, he kicked Aaron's shin and Aaron fell forward. With the advantage he had, Jake stood and began running.
People were beginning to play. Nobody could be trusted.
For a second, he wondered if he could even trust himself.
---- -
11:30 a.m. Day 1
Marc Reilly walked along the shoreline on the island when the speakers spackled along the island began some sort of announcements:
"ATTENTION LITTLE WARRIORS, HERE ARE THE UPDATES FOR OUR GAME: CHRISTIAN ZAMORA AND STEPHANIE MACK HAVE BITTEN THE DUST. THIS IS GOOD, SINCE IT'S ONLY THE FIRST HOUR OF THEGAME, BUT HURRY! IF THE GAME GOES QUICK ENOUGH, WE CAN PUT IT ON DVD FOR THE RESIDENTS OF SACRAMENTO CAN VIEW OVER AND OVER AGAIN!! MORE UPDATES IN AN HOUR!!"
"Oh my gawd. Stefie's dead? This sucks." Marc muttered to himself. This wasn't good. She had so much good fashion advice for him, and now she was dead. She would be missed.
Marc didn't wanna die. He had finally gotten access to a Fendi website on the community computer (households weren't allowed their own) and he had been getting ready to go online shopping. It was no fair that his class had been picked to compete in this stupid game.
Out in the horizon, Marc could see planes circling the island, probably to make sure that nobody would attempt to swim away. That was such bullshit, especially since they were wearing those stupid little dog collars that weren't even real silver.
He was about to begin jogging when he heard branches snapping in the dense jungle to left. He frowned and started walking towards the noise, hoping desperately he wouldn't dirty his LaCoste shoes. They were green and orange and gorgeous, with the little alligator emblazoned on the side. If he were to survive this with dirty shoes, he would be so pissed!
Going against his better judgment, Marc took his shoes off and let the cool soil squish between his toes as he walked.
"Eww, gross! There's a bug!" He cried, and flicked it off his foot.
"Who's there?" A voice called from the trees. He looked around, but couldn't find anyone.
"Is that you, God?"
"No, dumbass."
A small, sprightly girl jumped down from the tree. It was Yocelin Cramer, this girl who didn't know how to dress to accentuate her flat derrière (or ass, for a lack of a better word).
"I know you, you're Yocelin Cramer, right?"
"Yup."
"Yeah, okay. So, are you really playing this little game, Yocelin?"
"No, but if you don't get your ass out of here, I will."
"No, no, no. You don't understand, we need to find other people who're not playing, so maybe we can form some sort of alliance, like, The Real World: Seattle or something."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"I'll give you my Prada wallet."
"I said NO."
"Well screw you then." He said, and spit on her chest.
Yocelin looked apoplectic for a second, then took out a gleaming sickle.
Marc turned to run-
"Get over here, fat shit!" Yocelin screamed.
-and stepped on a sharp stone that penetrated the arch of his foot. He fell to the ground.
With screams that would have impressed prehistoric jungle freaks, Marc felt Yocelin plunge the sickle into his shoulder. He threw his hands up to protect himself, but immediately felt the cold metal slice into him. Blood spewed from his mouth when the sickle perforated his gut and he felt the sickle once again slash into his chest. For the coup de grace, the blade tore his cheek off, exposing shiny pink guns and white teeth beneath a layer of red blood. He felt himself seize up for a second before he gave out.
Marc Reilly was no more.
---- -
Jake had been running for nearly five minutes now, and for him, that was more than enough. Still, Aaron was in hot pursuit and if he didn't wanna be turned into shredded shit, he would need to keep on keeping on.
"Jake come back! I promise it won't hurt!"
"Fuck you, Aaron!" He screamed.
He could hear Aaron's footsteps crunching the tree branches that were littered on the floor. For a second he was beginning to think that maybe he could get a good hit in. Of course, that would mean stopping, and what if he missed? Whatever. Worth a try.
Jake pivoted on his right foot and saw Aaron's fat ass barreling through the trees. His cleaver gleamed in the over head light and he took a deep breath, making sure to time it correctly. Aaron was getting closer-
He raised his hammer-
-closer-
- it was behind his head now, ready for a full-arch swing-
-NOW!-
Jake panicked and threw the hammer at Aaron. It twirled through the air and slammed into his forehead. He looked dazed before stumbling, but he kept on running.
"Shit!" Jake turned and continued at a nearly-sprinting pace.
As he got to a clearing, he saw Kristen, a friend since the first day of school.
"Kristen! Help me!" he screamed. Jake screamed again when she unloaded ten or fifteen bullets toward him. "SHIT!" He screamed louder and ran past her, shoving her aside to throw her off-balance. Aaron could deal with her. She was playing now.
---- -
Aaron's stomach clenched when he heard the bullets fire. Had Diego been hit? Did whoever fire the gun miss him? Shit, shit, shit.
He arrived at the clearing to find Kristen, holding a gun toward him with her finger on the trigger. He began to back away when she began firing, out of nowhere. This time, she didn't miss, the bullets smashing into his ribcage and chest perfectly.
Blood rushed to his mouth and he crumpled to the ground, almost unable to stand. His legs twitched and spasmed, and his breathing was extremely erratic, both from the running and from the fact that he'd just been shot in the chest 40 times. His eyes bean drifting closed and his heartbeat was slowing down. Kristen was laughing for her semi-victory, and frowning because she'd used up every bullet. She wouldn't get away with this.
He let himself be still. She walked over to him and began pawing through his stuff, searching his pockets and breast pocket, his backpack and his back pocket.
"Hmm, cute butt, I see…" She muttered as she began sorting through his supplies.
"Fuck you…" He gasped. Her eyes widened and she began to back away, but the last of his strength allowed him to swing the cleaver and barely slash her throat. He'd gotten the jugular vein, and now the bitch would bleed to death. Unfortunately, he was dying too.
He didn't wanna die, but right now, death was inevitable, both for him and for the gasping bitch dying next to him. His eyes fluttered closed and then… nothing.