Chapter One
It's a mercy
He's wielding a hammer above his head.
Denise "Dee-Dee" Cartwright (girl number five) puts a hand to her mouth as she witnesses this. He brings it down on the other boys head and there is a crunch, like someone breaking an egg shell with their bare hand. Brent Ramos (boy number four) goes down quickly, his pack sliding off of a broad shoulder. He falls to his side, his dark hair matted with blood that shines in the moonlight. Dee-Dee hadn't meant to stick around; she only wanted to wait for her sister, then find a place to hide out. In some ways, she hadn't taken this thing too seriously. Her exit from the school had been a bit languid, almost leisurely. As soon as the island's air touched her skin, she heard footsteps from the hall behind her. She banked on the woman to have read the names alphabetically, so that Deidre Cartwright (girl number eight) would come out next, but first a boy would come out and she wasn't sure who it could be. So, on a whim, holding her pack close so it wouldn't make any noise, she took a few long strides toward the darkness, before her fear of the woods could develop. She ducked behind a tall tree, crouching as she looked past the bark. It was then that she saw Brent Ramos turn the corner of the school and look directly into her direction. She nearly stumbled back at this.
Brent Ramos shouldn't have scared her. He was five three and weighed a hundred twenty soaking wet but there was something about that Joker grin that could have given Heath Ledger a run for his money. In kindergarten, Brent would dig in his nose and tease Deidre and Dee-Dee with his boogers. He was the type of kid who's class drawings contained a lot of red. And when their kindergarten teacher announced that the class hamster had gone missing, everyone cried. Dee-Dee just happened to see Brent smile briefly beneath his tears. He only got creepier from that. Now, at eighteen, Dee-Dee was surprised that he'd never gotten arrested for anything or locked up. He passed his grades well and kept to himself for the most part. Some of the guys stole his clothes from the locker room last year making it so he had to run across campus with nothing but a towel but that was the extent of any sort of bullying. He wasn't liked but was more of a fixture that you poked every once in a while to make sure it still entertained you.
Dee-Dee held her breath when she saw that Joker grin again. Only this time, the grin was accompanied with a crossbow. He raised it, probably centering it between her eyes. She didn't move, couldn't move. So, this is it? She thought.
And then, the hammer comes down.
Brent releases the arrow but misses his target by a few feet. His collapse on the ground is like a dropped bag of potatoes. Blinking in the dirt, he sputters something under his breath and his entire body seems to convulse. Behind him, holding a hammer with blood dripping off the end of it, is Axel Erickson (boy number five), who looks as if he's been struck himself. Brent makes some sort of crawl toward his crossbow, although it doesn't seem like he's going to get too far. Axel, the contents spilling out of his empty pack, makes a mad dash for the crossbow. He swipes it from the ground and points it wildly toward the woods.
"Who's there?" He calls out.
Dee-Dee thanks every god she can think of that he hasn't seen her. She closes her eyes and continues to pray, pressing her palms against the bark of the tree. There are more echoes of footsteps. Axel looks behind him, his face ashen in the security lights. Scrambling for his fallen items, he puts as many things in the bag as he possibly can, then, still waving the crossbow with his hand, he nearly trips over his two feet as he runs in the opposite direction.
Dee-Dee moves further back into the darkness, praying that Deidre would be the next girl out but when the door opens, it's not Deidre. Tania Gallegos (girl number six) pushes open the door with one hand, the twenty pound pack slung over her shoulder like a body. She freezes, frowns when she sees Brent, sprawled in a growing pool of blood. He's muttering something incoherently. She lowers herself to his side, presses her fingers against his neck. Dee-Dee takes another step back, this time cracking a twig underneath the heel of her shoe. Tania looks up like a startled deer. "Who is that?" She calls out.
Dee-Dee didn't know Tania well. Tania just transferred from a private school last year. She spent a lot of time sitting in the back of classes scribbling in a notebook. She gravitated toward Stacey Oneal (girl number twenty) but even from a distance, Dee-Dee could see that the two of them weren't tight. Tania didn't really seem to like a big crowd, which was a nice sort of change of pace. She didn't raise her hand in class and didn't participate in group activities, but she was friendly enough and she liked to greet people with a smile, albeit an obligatory one.
Dee-Dee reveals herself, deciding that staying hidden might make matters worse, especially if she doesn't clarify the situation. Tania is a large girl, carrying an extra twenty, thirty pounds perhaps? She doesn't do well in gym, not as well as Dee-Dee anyway. Thank God for afternoon yoga. It might save my life. "Tania? I didn't do that." She holds her hands up, as if she's under arrest. "Is he..."
Tania blinks several times, then shakes her head. "W-what happened?" She stutters. She looks petrified, her caramel skin becoming pale.
"I think he was playing." Dee-Dee says. "He had a crossbow and he pointed it at me and Axel saved my life."
Tania looks startled. "Axel?"
"Oh, he's not here now." Dee-Dee nods in the direction Axel had gone. "I'm waiting for Deidre. How is she in there?"
"I didn't notice." Tania shrugs.
Brent continues to writhe. Dee-Dee considers kicking Brent but as soon as she looks at him, at the exposed brain that she couldn't see from the trees, she covers her mouth, faces away from Tania, and tries to hold in her vomit. He's going to die, she realizes. He's going to be the first casualty of the Program, isn't he? She hears more footsteps. The pattern is boy-girl-boy-girl, so the next person will be male and this frightens her. She ducks back into the forest, nodding for Tania to join her. Tania looks hesitantly at Dee-Dee, as if she's unsure of whether or not Dee-Dee is telling the truth. She submits, although her eyes never leave Dee-Dee's hands.
Three more people come out, all greeted by the sight of Brent, but none of them stick around to see whether or not he's still alive. Deidre Cartwright exits the school, long strands of her brown hair whipping across her face, her pack held close to her bosom. She hones in on Brent and lets out a high shriek before Dee-Dee emerges from the shadows and engulfs her sister in a hug. They both start to sob in each others shoulders. There is a pained look on Tania's face. "We need to leave." Tania warns. "Before someone else comes through those doors."
"Okay," Deidre whispers, wiping her tears. "Okay,"
"Wait." Dee-Dee says, moving softly toward Brent.
"Dee-Dee, what are you doing?" Deidre hisses.
More echoes from the hall.
"We can use some of this stuff, you know? Just in case." She bends over to pick up Brent's pack and notices that his eye has become glassy and still. His shaking has stopped. She says a silent prayer. He is- was an asshole, but he suffered enough, hadn't he? She joins Tania and Deidre, who are already rushing into the woods, running quickly to catch up with them.
Reid Parsons (boy number twenty) stays close to Vivian Khan (girl number twenty five) until his name is called. He looks up at the woman, shaking his head. "I won't leave her. She can barely stand up."
"It's your turn, Parsons." The woman says.
"Look at her!" He points to Vivian, who looks like a drunk trying to keep their head up. The blood has matted on her forehead now and her eyes are open but she seems to be having a hard time focusing on anything. "I can't leave her."
"It's alright," Nora Ward (girl number twenty three) takes a seat next to Vivian. "I'll stay here with her."
He looks to the remaining students for assistance, or to back him up, but no one else looks at him, either for fear of the soldiers or fear of the game.
"The clock is ticking, Parsons." The woman says. "You either leave her through that door or you leave her another way. Your choice."
Reid presses his palms against his forehead. He's never felt so vulnerable in his life. "I'll wait for you two." He says. Nora turns her head, her single blonde braid slipping off of her shoulder. She has taken Reid's place, rubbing Vivian's back, trying to keep her awake. What if Vivian has a concussion? It's not like they can go to a hospital. Reid says it again ("I'll wait for you.") and enters the dark hall. Someone shoves a pack into his chest and he stumbles outside. He sees a couple of other people standing around, possibly waiting for their friends. He sees Brent Ramos, not moving, and the shock of the corpse nearly makes him drop his bag.
Someone calls his name. Tucker Westmore (boy number sixteen) stands half in the shadows with three other guys. He rushes up to Reid and pulls him into a bear hug. "Jesus Christ, what took you so long?" Tucker murmurs. Reid's eyes don't leave the corpse that is only a few feet away. Tucker, releasing Reid, nods. "I don't know what happened there, man. I'm not sure I want to know."
Reid feels faint. "Oh fuck." He murmurs.
He stumbles and Tucker catches him. "Reid… Reid, come on, we need you at a hundred- oh shit, guys help me, he's heavy."
Reid's panic attacks have always started like this: first the dizzy spell. Then the simulated heart attack. Then the nausea. Then the darkness. One. Two. Three. Four. Always, every time. This time isn't much different, except Reid doesn't make it to darkness. Instead, two of his friends hold him up as he empties the contents of his stomach. Some of the other stragglers just stare, amazed that the amazing Reid Parsons for once isn't in control of the situation or his emotions. Reid wills himself to stay conscious.
He needs to make sure Nora and Vivian make it out of the school alright.
And they do. Nora first, who slowly walks toward the group of boys. By time she's come out of the school, there is no one else waiting. Not a good sign, Reid thinks. It makes them easy targets. Thankfully, no one has shown up with a gun. Nora, a small thin girl, moves like a feather across the dirt, shivering from the chill in the air. She doesn't make a sound when she sees Brent's body. There is some sort of mournful resignation in her eyes but that's as far as her emotions go. "What happened to him?"
"Who knows." Tucker murmurs. He rests an elbow on a nearby tree. "How was she?"
"She could barely stand up straight. I think she might be the last student." Nora says, her bottom lip quivering. Reid thinks that she doesn't look like the type of girl who could hold her own in a fight. Nora isn't weak-minded; she is always seen with a medical textbook and since her father is a mortician, death probably isn't anything new to her. She's just kind and people always seem to interchange that with weakness. Might make her an easy target too, Reid thinks. Then he catches a glimpse at his friends, who are waiting patiently for Vivian, and thinks that they won't let that happen. "That woman… she wouldn't tell me if they would carry her out or not."
"I should have stayed," Reid says.
"No, you would have been shot." Nora turns toward the school door. "There's nothing you could have done. That woman is evil."
"With a capital E." One of his friends says.
"This whole thing is fucked." Another replies.
Dawson Brenner (boy number twenty five) watches Isaac Thatcher (boy number twenty four) walk quickly to the exit. And then there were two, Dawson thinks as he looks over at Vivian Khan. She is collapsed on her desk now, breathing softly into her sticky blood. He doesn't move toward her, frankly because he's scared to move. He's been both petrified and anxious as he waits for his name to be called. Figures, he'd be the absolute last person called. He slouches a bit in his seat, waiting for the inevitable. Even Issac Thatcher got called before him, ridiculous.
His mother would have some adage like "save the best for last" during a moment like this, but she lived thinking the world was full of good people and that people genuinely liked her for her and not because she owned a multi-million dollar florist company. His mother could be a bit naive and sometimes it rubbed off on Dawson. Like now. He's caught himself on more than one occasion feeling sorry for Vivian and for what? Did getting hit in the head automatically turn her into a good person? Did getting hit in the head automatically mean she deserved to live? Vivian could be a bit of a nasty person sometimes. She cheated on her last exam, hadn't she? Granted, she bought the exam answers off of Dawson, but she was the one committing the crime. She also shoplifted from clothing stores. And rumor had it that she slept with a teacher, although there is a lot of speculation about that one as no one actually knew who the teacher was. That one was probably false. But the others, those were true. And who knew what skeletons she hid in her closet? If they were as dark as Dawson's… well, maybe she deserved to die-
"Girl number twenty five, Vivian Khan." The woman says.
Vivian lifts her head slowly. She pushes on the desk with her palms, trying to stand, but her bottom rises only an inch before it settles back in her chair. She tries again and stops, forcing herself to sit upright.
"I don't think she can." Dawson says.
The woman approaches Vivian, her heels clicking against the dull colored tiles. She cups a hand under Vivian's chin. Vivian's eyes are half closed and when they open, they barely focus on the woman's stern face. The woman releases Vivian's chin, patting her on the back. "I'm so sorry this has happened to you my dear. It seems that you at a disadvantage." She looks at Dawson, who remains stone-like in his chair. "My child, it seems you have two choices to make." The woman makes her way to him, resting a palm on his desk. Her manicured fingernails click against it's surface. "You can assist your fellow classmate out of the room. Or…" She shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe you can shorten the competition. How much longer do you think she'll last… in her state?"
Dawson lets the implications sink in. His voice is a squeak. "I-I couldn't-"
"Do you think that you'll go this three days unscathed?" The woman asks. "Ask yourself, and be honest, what you think will happen when you leave this school? Do you think that no one is going to fight you? That no one else values their lives?" The woman sighs. "When you leave this classroom, one of my men will have to get his hands dirty with her if you don't take her with you. But if you take her, you become her ward. If something happens to her, the responsibility is on yourself. And frankly, I don't think that it will be very sportsman-like for one of my men to do your job. Do you?"
"I don't give a fuck what you think." He says.
"Watch your tone." The woman's face darkens. "I'm only being practical with you. I want you to ask yourself if you have what it takes to handle those who value their lives. One way or another, you will play the game Dawson. My only question is will you play as a newbie or a veteran? Why not try to get the free practice in while you can? After the first, it becomes much easier, I promise. I speak from experience."
Dawson looks over at Vivian.
The woman sighs impatiently. "Alright, well, if your mind is made up, I'll have you leave. But if you leave, I promise that it won't be quick for Khan. It will be agonizing and long and cruel."
"Why?"
"Because of you, Dawson." The woman says tenderly. "Because you didn't have what it took to do what needs to be done."
Dawson glances at Vivian, who is breathing shallowly. "I couldn't-"
"Get out then." The woman orders.
A soldier enters the room, then another. Both of their guns are strapped onto their backs. Both are holding short, sharp looking blades. The woman doesn't look at them. She is only focused on Dawson. "You can make it quick for her. Painless really. It's a mercy." The woman removes her hand and on the desk is a box cutter. "It's practice. A free tutorial. How many of your classmates got this opportunity? How many of them do you think will be as prepared as you will? I promise you, this will be our little secret."
Dawson stares at the blade. He touches the handle, then picks it up and examines it. "And, you get to keep your second weapon. Think of it as a bonus!" The woman's smile deepens as Dawson looks from the blade to the slumped over girl. "Well, get on with it." She says.
Dawson stands up and approaches Vivian. He tries to think of the reasons why she should die right now but begins to draw a blank. Then, he remembers those soldiers knives and thinks of them making little cuts into Vivian, not killing her instantly, but terrorizing her, torturing her for hours. Its a mercy, the woman had said.
Yea, its a mercy. I'll make it quick for her. Quick and painless.
He grabs a handful of Vivian's dark hair. She lets out a guttural moan. "I'm sorry," He whispers. He looks up at the woman and the two men, who are all grinning. It makes him sick. It makes him want to see his family again and hear his mom's stupid adages one more time. He just wants to go home. Why does he have to do this? Maybe this is a dream. Maybe if I do this, I'll wake up, because that's how it happens in dreams, right? Get to the climax and then awaken?
He touches the blade on the clammy skin of her throat. She opens her mouth like a fish. Blood has seeped from her lip onto her teeth, staining the white with smears of red. He almost apologizes again, but he doesn't think that she's listening. He presses the blade deeper into her throat, until it cuts skin. He almost stops when her blood touches his hand. Her cry in pain is startling but he pulls the blade across, giving her throat a crimson smile, and her cries fade away. He releases her, taking a few steps back, breathing harder and harder, waiting to wake up.
Someone shoves a bag into his chest and another presses a hand against his back, pushing him out, out into the clean air. Somewhere along the way, he must have dropped the blade and not remembered it. All he can see is the blood pooling from Vivian's second smile like a faucet and the blood on his hand.
He sees the aptly nicknamed American Eagle models standing together and Nora, who was sitting on her pack, standing up. "Where is she?" Nora asks. "Where's Vivian?"
Before he can think, the lie rolls automatically off of his lips: "They killed her."
48 Contestants Remaining
