©Hour 3: 37 Remaining: 3:00 pm
Girl #7, Melissa, was astonished at what she'd learned in the last twenty minutes.
She'd found Girl #21, Elle, and had reluctantly stayed with her. Melissa had never really hung out in Elle's circle, and had at first dismissed her as an ignorant, vain ice queen. But now that she'd spent time with the girl, she had begun to see an entirely different side of her, a bright, funny and utterly charming young woman.
They talked for a long time, about everything. Eventually they came back to the Battle Royale.
"How are we going to live?" Melissa asked.
"What do you mean?" Elle questioned.
"Well, I mean," Melissa explained, "We know that this is real. Then that means in three days we'll all be dead."
Elle looked down at her feet. "Yeah. I guess it does mean that."
"What are we going to do about it?"
The two sat in silence again.
The silence was broken by a deafening clap of thunder.
Melissa screamed.
Elle giggled and ran outside, delighting as the rain beat down about her clothes and head. She'd loved the rain ever since she was a child, and even at a time like this there was no difference.
Suddenly, her head suddenly began to sting. She reached up and felt warmth right at the top of her skull. She looked at her fingers and gulped upon seeing dark, red blood.
Elle looked for the culprit, panicked that she was under attacked, when she felt another sharp pain on her collar bone. Looking up into the sky, she suddenly found herself pounded with dozens of small white objects. She dove back into the house, only to realise that what she'd been so terrified was regular old hail.
"Are you ok?" Melissa asked, helping the other girl to her feet.
"Yeah," Elle said, whimpering slightly.
"You're bleeding," Melissa said, indicating the top of Elle's head.
Elle felt the wound and made a half-smile, "I guess so," She stood up and took a look at herself in the mirror, "I better go freshen up, and get out of these wet clothes."
She grabbed the back-pack she'd brought and walked up the rickety set of stairs in the room next to the kitchen.
Upstairs was a bed-room, and the only bathroom, a dirty little thing that obviously had not been used in a while. Disgustingly, someone had left a floater in the toilet bowl. This last detail had prevented either girl from using the apparatus.
Once inside, Elle looked at her injury in the mirror. It certainly looked ugly. The dark blood had already begun to dry and was beginning to cling to her hair.
I should probably put some anti-septic on that, Elle thought, ah well, stuff it.
She set about washing the blood out in the sink. Soon the white ceramic was stained pink, but her head was now free of the dried blood.
Seeing that her uniform was now quite wet, she stripped and pulled on the extra clothes she'd brought along 'just in case'. In actual fact she'd brought along the three-quarter jeans and boob tube to seduce Dave, her current secret crush. She knew now that it was a wasted effort to try and find him, but these clothes were much more comfortable than her wet uniform.
Just as she was done making herself look 'sexyful' as Elle liked to put it, she heard a scream from downstairs, and an enormous crack that she knew was Melissa's gun.
Boy #18, Dan, saw it over and over. The crowbar slide silently from his pack…Stu wandering carelessly through a bright forest…Stu's P22 glistening in the sun…the hooked end of the crowbar lodging itself in the hard bone of Stu's skull…
Dan had replayed the moment so many times that the images involved were now as clear as those of his family back home.
Dan hadn't run into anyone since he had killed Stu. He was becoming restless. He liked things to go quickly and efficiently, and he wanted…needed to add more to his kill tally.
As Dan walked, he suddenly felt his foot slip beneath him. He tumbled for a moment and landed sprawled in the dirt. Looking around, he realised he had fallen into a small crater. He sat up and immediately gasped. Lying in front of him was the dead body of Boy #17, Ian. He had been laid out on his back, with his hands folded over his chest.
Thinking quickly, Dan surmised that the crater had been caused by a small explosive, most likely a fragmentation grenade. He immediately searched Ian and his pack which rested next to him. In it he found four, green, pineapple shaped devices, which he recognized as classic WWII-era grenades.
He was pleased with himself. He didn't even have to kill someone to get these! Dan was also now very confident in himself. He had a handgun with plenty of ammo, and more than enough frags to take out the rest of the class.
He desperately wanted to find more of his classmates. Being in such a place upset him, and he missed his computer. He wanted to leave, A.S.A.P.
As he strolled along through the forest, he happened upon a small, decrepit house. He at first thought to ignore it, as it looked like no one had been anywhere near it for some time.
Dan was just about to pass by it when he heard a shrill scream from just inside the house.
He stood in front of her, drenched from the rain that the hail had turned to. He was panting, and he had a wild look in his eyes.
Girl #7, Melissa, backed away from him her gun held up. In his hand he held a bloodied knife and Melissa hadn't taken her eyes from it since he entered the kitchen of the dingy house.
She had been eating her bread absent-mindedly when she suddenly spotted his face staring at her through the window. She'd screamed and thrown herself back, scrambling for the table where her Desert Eagle lay.
She snatched it up and turned. As she turned she screamed again and fired her gun once in the direction of the window. The recoil for the gun was enormous and it practically flew out of her hands.
The window shattered, but Andrew had already left it and was now standing in the doorway, his hands in the air.
All that Melissa saw was that his knife was in his hand.
Andrew was terrified. He was certain made the mistake of thinking that Melissa would help him. Then he realized the problem, the knife was still in his grip. Instantly he dropped it and yelled, "I DROPPED IT! SEE I DROPPED IT!
"Where did the blood come from?" Melissa asked, shakily.
Andrew winced, and muttered, "There was an accident."
"What kind?" Melissa pressed. She could tell what the answer was going to be.
"Ian, I…accidentally…k-killed Ian." Andrew stared at his toes, feeling like a little boy who'd been scolded for sneaking cookies before tea time, but on a far greater scale.
Melissa gasped in disgust and abject horror.
Upon hearing Melissa's first scream, Elle had backed into the wall of the bathroom and trembled. Could they already be under attack?
When she screamed a second time, Elle suddenly felt herself spurred on to rush to her aid. She grabbed her tazer from next to the sink and charged down the stairs. Bursting into the kitchen she cried, "Okay, what's with all the screaming?"
Melissa looked over to her and replied quickly, "Andrew's here. He scared me…he's killed someone."
Elle squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before asking, "Who?"
"Ian." Andrew answered, before Melissa could.
Elle hissed like a cat and spat, "I was right Melissa. At least one person's bought into this fucking game!"
"No it's not like that," Andrew protested, "It was an accident!"
"Sure," Melissa said, still holding the gun up, despite its seemingly increasing weight.
Neither girl believed him, and with good reason. He didn't have a stellar reputation to begin with, and now that he was standing here, admitting to killing someone with a knife that was still bloody and very much in his possession, it was infinitely harder to trust any word that came from his mouth.
Outside, Boy #18, Daniel was approaching, grenade in hand.
Boy #14, Calin, breathed heavily as he ran through the dense forest…hunting. His prey, Boy #15, Darren, was ahead of him somewhere, and he aimed to find him. He had followed the trail of blood that had poured from the other boy's ruined eye.
Calin didn't think of Stefan at all as he ran. If he did…he knew…that he would stop running…he would stop running and his heart would break…he couldn't do that until it was done and Darren was dead…dead like Stefan.
Lightning suddenly cracked over-head and Calin shuddered. The rain came not too long afterwards. Calin's uniform was soaked through instantaneously. Roaring in frustration Calin began a search for some kind of shelter.
It didn't take to long to find it, a cave. He stumbled into it, slipping and sliding on the wet rocks. He sighed with relief at finally getting somewhere dry, when suddenly he saw her, Girl #6, Alana, standing in the centre of the cave's floor. Calin was about to say something when it clicked in his mind…something was amiss…Alana looked…terrified…pale…
Taking in her appearance fully, Calin spotted them…the bloodstains…all over her. She was no longer wearing her shirt, though her tie inexplicably remained.
"'Lana," Calin said, stepping cautiously towards her, his thoughts of Darren almost entirely out of mind.
"I didn't mean to…" Alana sobbed, "It was…I didn't…it was an…accid-"
"Alana, wha-" He stopped when he saw what was lying next to her.
A mere ten minutes beforehand, Alana had been feeling quite peaceful. Her stark terror had lessened, and she felt herself beginning to doze.
She was snapped out of her drowsiness at the first crackle of thunder. She stood and looked up to the sky, and the gathering blackness. She sighed…it had been so warm before…
A groan came from the bushes near the mouth of the cave. Alana gasped and slid down into the cave, snatching up her hatchet. She paused, before poking her head up over the mouth of the cave.
He staggered into view like a zombie…Boy #15, Darren, Alana's on-off (and quite violent) boyfriend. He was holding his head in his hands, and Alana could see that blood was trickling from the gaps in his fingers. His moans were indescribable.
Darren was bad news. She'd known it when he asked her out the first time…but she'd still said yes. The first time he'd hit her had been when he'd caught her talking to Angel at a party. It had been a light slap, and since then he'd never hurt her any more than that. But he'd hurt many others…many. Her friends had told her to get away from him but she'd never been able to successfully sever her ties with him. She'd decided that this time she would avoid him…he was dangerous. Even if he didn't hurt her…he'd hurt someone else.
She'd hesitated, and in that moment, he had dropped one of his hands, and managed, using his one good eye, to spot her. Immediately recognising her as his Alana, he had cried out "HELP!" and staggered toward her.
Alana stood and held out her hatchet.
"Stay away!" She shrieked, "Just…go!"
He came closer to her and reached out for help. As he reached, he removed his hand from his eye, revealing a bloody hollow, from which the remains of his optic nerve hung. He'd done his best in his agonizing stupor to stuff the cord back into his head, but all it had done was send new waves of gut-churning pain to him.
Alana wasn't good with gore. Dissecting a cow's eye in science class was bad enough but this…She breathed deep, her fear welling inside. She stepped back and released it all in the loudest scream she could muster.
Darren slipped forward, and his hand fell onto her shoulder. Alana stopped screaming, and without thinking swung. The hatchet buried itself in her boyfriend's stomach, before Alana pulled it back out. Blood spurted forth and Darren cried out.
Did that just happen? Did his girl just drive a hatchet into his stomach? It was all he could manage to think before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
Alana stared at him for a second, stunned and terrified.
"Darren," She stuttered, her eyes widening at disbelief at what she'd just done.
She knelt down and rolled him over. Reflexively, he coughed up a wad of bloody mucus, straight onto her cheek.
Alana ignored it, threw her hatchet down into the cave and grabbed her boyfriend under his armpits. Carefully, she dragged him over to the cave-opening and lowered him into the darkness.
Alana lifted his shirt and looked at the wound. It was bad, but could've been worse. She couldn't see any of his innards, so she was hoping that she hadn't stuck the hatchet in too far.
She ripped her school shirt from her chest and tore it into pieces, desperately hoping to be able to procure some make-shift bandages.
It did little to stem the flow of blood.
She'd managed to stay composed…hadn't broken down. When Calin slid into the cave, she had turned to face him, trying to stand as strongly as she could.
But when he asked what had happened…she couldn't get the words out. They had caught in her throat, and she began to splutter and mumble. Her attempts to maintain her dignity were entirely futile and she crumpled into a sobbing heap. .
Calin was torn. He wanted desperately to comfort Alana…but knowing that Darren was there made it hard. Mere seconds before his mind had been consumed with thoughts of finishing off Darren. But now he was conflicted. Darren was incapacitated not two metres away…it would be so easy for Calin to just walk over to him and choke the life out of him.
But Alana was right there...she needed someone to help
Calin so desperately wanted to comfort her, but he also desperately needed to shove her aside and crush Darren's head underneath his foot.
In the end he ended up kneeling beside his friend and hugging her.
Girl #16, Alexandra lay silent in the middle of the path, her breathing quick and shallow. Above her, Boys #4 and #5, Kris and Dave, looked on, wondering what the hell they could do. They'd made make-shift bandages from their school-shirts which were ineffectual at best.
Kris knelt down beside her and gently pressed at the wound, completely unsure of what he should do.
He turned to Dave and said, pleadingly, "What do we do?"
Dave was silent.
Alex looked up at him. The searing pain that had been in her leg was now lessening to an ever-present aching. But she could feel the blood, and she knew it was still coming just as quick as ever.
With Dave not responding, Kris continued to tear at what remained of his school shirt, tears beginning to fall.
"It's okay Alex," He said, "You're gonna make it out of here!"
This prompted Alex to laugh out loud. Surprised, Kris lost his balance for a moment and fell, knocking her wound. She cried out in pain and swore loudly.
"You think," She panted, "You think I'll make it?" A half-smile flickered across her pale face, "Not likely."
"Yes, we will." Kris assured her, "We're gonna make it out!"
"You're not a very good liar Kris." She continued, gulping as the pain began to increase, "You know that this isn't going to end with us all realising how much we've grown and sailing off into the sunset. By the end of this, we'll have killed each other, or someone else will have done it to us. Simple as that."
Kris sat back, silent and stunned. Above him, Dave stood still, staring down at Alex. She stared back up at him, daring him to say something.
"We…" Dave started, darkly. Alex eyed him once more and he stopped, mid-sentence, instead changing what he was going to say. "We need to get you somewhere safer."
At that moment the rain began to fall.
Girls #13, #15 and #14, Sarah, Jessica and Maddy had pooled their resources upon their joining forces, and within an hour they had drunk six out of nine bottles of water, and eight out of twelve loaves of bread. The three were worried, and not noticing what they were doing.
They were terrified.
And now they were wet.
"THIS IS SO FUCKED UP!" Jessica screeched, kicking at a fallen tree.
The two other girls were silent.
Jessica turned back to them, and stared exasperatedly at them, before whispering, "What are we gonna do?"
Sarah had changed out of her uniform, into the tracksuit she'd brought for the 'trip', and was now doing her best to convince Maddy to help her find shelter. They'd brought it up when they noticed the oncoming storm clouds, but Maddy had been adamant.
"Come on Maddy!" Sarah cried, "If we stay out any longer we're gonna get fucking pneumonia!"
"I'd rather get fucking pneumonia than get fucking killed!" Maddy spat, her face turning the angry, flushed red it always gets when she's mad.
Jessica had done her best to quash her rising anger, but Maddy had always known how best to bring it out.
"Maddy," She said, quietly yet furiously, "Sarah is right. Staying out here will not help us at all. We need to find somewhere to stay for this storm. It's not safe out here."
Maddy stood up, her anger building too, "WHERE'S SAFE, JESSICA?" She shrieked, "Where the fuck are we going to be safe?
Jessica stormed over to Maddy, and Maddy thought that she looked ready enough to hit her. They ended up almost nose to nose, trying to establish some sort of dominance. It seemed fairly evenly matched, until Sarah piped up with her view.
"If it's not safe anywhere," She said, nastily towards Maddy, "Why can't we be somewhere that's dry?"
Madeline glared at her.
"Fine," She said, after a moment's pause, with a defiant look on her face, "You wanna go find a nice house to spend the night? GO AHEAD!" She gestured towards the forest that surrounded them.
The other two stared at her for a moment, until Jessica finally made a move, grabbing her pack.
"Okay." She said, "We're going, aren't we Sarah?"
Sarah hesitated for a moment, but nodded.
"Get our food." Jessica snapped.
Slightly taken aback at Jessica's tone, Sarah scooped up most of the remaining food, leaving a small amount for the other girl.
"Well, we're gone." Jessica said shortly. She gave Maddy a single, venom-filled look before she stormed off into the forest.
Sarah paused a moment, and thought to herself. She stepped up to Maddy, and gave her a quick hug.
"Good luck…really." She whispered in her ear. She stepped back and smiled, and Maddy smiled back. Sarah sighed, and then grabbed her bag, following Jessica off in a random direction. Upon catching up to her, Sarah leaned over and muttered, "What a bitch."
And so, Maddy was left alone, standing in the middle of an empty campsite, soaked through to the bone.
Boys #6, #7 and #11, Jack, Tom and Oliver, and Girl #18, Felicity were all quite pleased with themselves.
The cross that they'd decided on heading towards was indeed a church, and it was just what the group had hoped for.
It was small, stone, and quite new. The front door was a huge wooden thing, which no teenager would have a hope of breaking down without some serious firepower. There was no backdoor, and there were few windows, and all of them were positioned high up on the walls although they were the traditionally huge, stained glass ones.
The four had shrieked with delight upon finding it. Jack and Oliver had run straight inside, completely forgetting the fact that they were involved in a very dangerous game, and that someone could very well be inside.
Upon entering, Tom had immediately slammed the door shut and dragged one of the pews in front of it, completely barricading them in.
"That's more like it," Tom said, "Now, Felicity-" He started, turning to the girl…only…the girl wasn't there.
Immediately, Felicity had headed up past the altar and into a small door that lead to what would've have been the priest's office. She quickly checked inside, and then opened another door. Inside was what she'd hoped for, the bathroom. She needed to relax, and she desperately wanted to have a nice, long bath. She sighed with relief…only to realise that this bathroom, actually had no bath in it whatsoever. Felicity slumped down onto the closed toilet seat, and her head fell into her hands. She'd just wanted a bath…something normal…something to take her mind of this…madness…anything.
Boy #1, Sam, shivered in the cold afternoon air, as the rain softly beat down upon him. His mind was in a state of flux. One part of it pulled one way, with one idea. For a while that plan of action would have control over the others, but eventually it would weaken, and another idea would take its place. Everything was a jumble as flashes of memories and experiences appeared inside his head…his first day of school, making friends, first kiss…all of it was bursting to be let loose.
His 'weapon' was in his hand, but he didn't expect it to be of any use. The points of the fork were blunt at best, and he couldn't see how it would protect him.
As the rain started, he'd begun to wander across the island, not really knowing where he was going, or what he was going to do when he got there.
He hadn't seen anyone as he walked…until, that was, one of his 'friends' darted out in front of him.
The rain had startled Girls #4 and #5, Melanie and Tess. The two had been focused on each other for a while, sizing up their newfound companions. As they aimlessly meandered, they were silent, throwing occasional glances towards the forest surrounding them, but mostly 'subtly' observing the other.
When the rain and thunder came, the silence and tense stillness had been broken. Both girls gasped in surprise and squealed as their uniforms became drenched. The two darted through the forest, before they eventually crawled under a fallen tree-trunk for cover.
They panted as they removed their heavy and now stinking wet school blazers and made sure their food supply wasn't getting soaked.
When they were settled for a few moments, the silence returned. The girls looked at each other…all was still.
A smile suddenly stretched across Tess' face. Another mimicked Tess' on Melanie's face. The two girls burst into laughter, their fears and worries momentarily gone.
"Well this is fun." Girl #12, Sophie, muttered, staring out at the wall of rain and hail that had appeared.
"I know the feeling." Girl #3, Stephanie, said.
The girls had noticed the rain's approach early, and had compensated by creating a make-shift shelter. Neither wanted to go near the buildings on the island, as they would undoubtedly be hotspots for activity, so they had headed away from them all. Upon seeing the gathering storm clouds, they leapt into action. They found a large sheet of corrugated iron abandoned by one of the pathways. As the rain began to spit down on them, they had held it above their heads as they searched for an area to rest. They found a ditch near to where they had stopped, and laid the iron sheet over the top of it, forming a cosy refuge for the pair.
Now, the two sat in dirt, watching as a trickle of water wound its way into the shelter from one side, and then out the other.
"How could this be happening?" Sophie moaned, kicking at the dirt by her feet, "This…this is just…"
"Murder." Stephanie whispered.
Boy #10, Alexander, had not made a sound in the last hour. He'd found a shed containing a single cot and had immediately sat down on it, back to the wall.
He'd been pleased with his weapon, but he never thought he would need it. He couldn't believe that this game could really be allowed, let alone played by a bunch of fifteen year olds.
But he knew it was real. He'd found the body of Boy #16, Stu, being slowly devoured by flies. He'd then found a crater, and the body of Boy #17, Ian, who's now cold guts spilled out beneath it.
Alex could hardly believe it. He couldn't believe his classmates, the people he saw nearly everyday could kill one another. And he couldn't cope with how much blood there'd been. It had been everywhere, covering each of them. His mind had since played tricks with him, made him remember more blood than there was, but it still seemed real to him. The gore, the pain, the death…
He didn't want it to happen to him. He didn't want to spend his last moments in agony, or to spend three days cowering in a shed waiting for death to claim him at any moment. He wanted to be in control of it. He wanted to make sure it was…clean.
And so, after much thought, he'd brought the gun up to his head, as he sat on the cot. He placed the barrel in between his teeth, closed his eyes.
His finger twitched, froze, and then pulled the trigger.
Girl #8, Zoe, had been horrified at Boy #18's killing of Boy #16, but she'd done her best (and rather unsuccessfully) to put it into the back of her mind. She'd concentrated on finding her friends. She was quietly confident they'd all escape, despite the brutal murders that had occurred…perhaps overly confident…
Zoe knew she'd never have to see someone die again. She was wrong.
As Boy #10 fired the gun, Zoe passed the shack in which he had hidden himself.
The echoing bang resounded in her ears. It was loud, but it didn't mask the sound of a window being obliterated behind her. She turned and stared at the shack from where the noise had come from. Blood dripped from its sill.
Zoe didn't scream.
She just began to cry. She sank to her knees and sobbed.
Boy #10, Alexander, dead.
Boy #2, Anthony, was usually a very patient person. He could handle waiting for things he wanted, people he wanted to see, things he wanted to do. But thrust into a 'fight for your life' situation in which he potentially was going to have to kill others to protect himself or someone else, he found his patience to be not quite what it used to be.
Boy #9, Ben, was panicked about everything. He was squeezing one hand with the other, and had begun to ramble on about what they were going to do, and his wild theories about how to get out, and also his thoughts on who was going to be a danger to them. He seemed to think the most dangerous people would oddly enough be the girls. He blabbered on and on about how they were untrustworthy and dangerous to be around in a scenario like the one they were in.
When the first echoes of thunder reached them, Ben had become even more worried, moaning and grunting. His pace quickened, and his head darted every which way, scanning for any sign of danger.
Anthony gritted his teeth and continued onward, all the while his thoughts were the same.
Bec…where are you…find me…Bec…where are you…find me…
Boy #12, Gavin, ducked lower as he cautiously skirted around the outside of the bunker where the game had begun. His search had been fruitless, and so he had decided that rather than elaborately planning, he was going to go on instinct. He dashed back through the forest to the bunker, and was now steadying himself to leap into the building.
He ever so slowly crept up to the door that only an hour and forty minutes ago he'd left. He breathed deeply as he stood, back flattened against the outer wall, the door right next to him.
Spinning to the side, Gavin brought up his MP5 submachine gun and pointed it down the corridor that he'd exited from. The rack that the bags had sat on was still there he discovered, as he made his way down the hall. When he reached the door to the classroom in which they'd woken up he took another breath, before jumping into the room.
The classroom was empty. The only thing that remained was Georgina's corpse, crumpled in the centre of the room. The nausea inducing smell of dead flesh reached Gavin's nostrils, and he turned back to the hallway and retched.
"GOD DAMN IT!" He cried.
Leech laughed from the control room of the Battle Royale. Her feet were perched on a coffee table in front of her, while she swang back and forth on a red, cushioned swivel seat. On the screen in front of her was security camera footage of Gavin's search. She'd known that someone would come back.
Girl #2 and Girl #3, Meghan and Rebecca, had followed through on their idea to defeat the collars.
Each girl had taken it in turns to examine the others' device and neither found anything.
"Damn, these fuckers aren't coming off." Rebecca hissed, in a rare moment of unrepressed profanity.
Meghan sat, silently, absent-mindedly fingering the collar around her neck. Rebecca continued to rant on and on about what a stupid idea it was to force children to kill each other for the sake of a terrified nation.
As the rain fell, Meghan stared off into spacing, processing everything Bec said. However, her mind took it in a different way. She'd begun to see the Battle Royale in a completely different light. Her terror and fear had begun to take control.
Boy #21, Francis, had seen the rain coming, and acted accordingly, by slipping underneath a large tree with low-hanging branches. He sat cross-legged in the dirt, and watched as the water began to pour. He had his GPS-Locator next to him, and he kept an eye on it, as he brought his hands together and prayed.
Girl #17, June, was feeling uncomfortable. In her entire time at Ballarat & Clarendon College, she'd never said more than a few sentences to Boy #20, Angel, but here he was, sitting next to her on the felled tree, as the rain fell. He'd spent the last hour questioning her about her past and family. She'd told him about her sisters in Thailand, as well as her younger sister Jean who was in a lower year at BCC. She mentioned how she had been terrified when on a school hike, Sam had convinced her that drop bears were waiting to drop down and mangle any Asian person that wandered too close to their tree. She really felt like she had told him her life story, and yet he had said barely anything.
The pair sat silently for a moment. June looked over at Angel and smiled. Despite the situation and everything that had and was happening, he was still an incredibly attractive boy.
Suddenly, Angel threw himself towards her. June screamed, terrified. Terrified, that was, until his lips locked with hers. He put an arm around her and drew her close. Stunned, June sat there, her lips still pressed against his. He stared into her wide eyes and continued kissing her.
He likes me
June pushed him away and whispered, "What…"
He edged closer, and brushed a strand of her hair off her face, saying, "You're beautiful, June."
What does he want from me…
Girls #9 and #11, Rachael and Chloe were an optimistic pair. They always did their best to see the best in someone, and were more than willing to give out third and fourth chances. When something bad happened, they'd always try to make it into a positive.
Now, trapped in a Battle Royale, the two had convinced themselves that if the 41 students worked together they could find a way to escape from the government's clutches and make it to somewhere safe. They were confident that the other kids wouldn't start attacking each other, and that together they would all be safe.
"Yeah, we just have to get everyone communicating." Rachael said, smiling broadly.
Chloe nodded, "Exactly, if we all joined together they couldn't just KILL us all, right?"
Next to them, Girl #19, Emma, sat, shaking her head slightly. Her two companions didn't get it. Emma had known enough about foreign Battle Royale's to know that in every competition someone would attempt to join forces with others and overthrow the system. And not once, in over twenty years of Battle Royale had they ever succeeded. Emma knew that it really was kill or be killed, simple as that.
Girl #20, Veronica, was grateful for one thing in this game. She'd been searching for an hour when she found just what she was looking for. A small hill had appeared in front of her, and on top of it was a small hut. She had dashed into it, and finding it empty, sank down into a chair and sighed with relief.
Literally the moment she had sat down, a crack of thunder had echoed across the island, and rain began to fall. Smiling broadly at her good timing, Veronica pulled her chair up to a window. It was a perfect vantage point from which to use her supplied weapon.
Veronica sat there for twenty minutes, finger ready on the trigger. No one came.
Girl #7, Melissa's arm ached from holding the gun up. But she wasn't going to put it down. Not until she knew she was safe. Girl #21, Elle, did the same, keeping her tazer pointed at Andrew's chest.
Boy #19, Andrew was terrified of these girls. He needed a way to prove to them he wasn't a threat, to prove that he wasn't a danger to anyone. But on the inside he was worried that he was a danger, that he had in fact killed Ian on purpose, without realizing. It ate at his insides. Was it really an accident? Could he have done more to save him?
Andrew never found an answer to the question, and never managed to prove his innocence.
Instead, Boy #18, Dan, who had been slowly circling the house and creeping ever closer, snapped a branch underfoot.
Melissa squeaked and whirled around, almost taking Elle out as she swung the clunky Desert Eagle around.
Andrew dove for his switch-blade which rested on the table. Elle hissed at him and kicked at him, connecting with one of his ribs. He gasped, but managed to get the knife into his hands.
It was at that moment that the single window in the kitchen shattered. A small ball landed on the table and bounced off the edge, into the far edge of the room, behind the trio.
Andrew gasped, his mind flashing back to the incident with Ian.
"GO!" He cried, pushing Elle and Melissa in the direction of the living room.
They had only gone three steps when the grenade detonated, sending shrapnel upwards into the roof. The shockwave knocked the three to the floor, Elle smashing through a coffee table.
Dan raced inside the house, P22 in hand. He fired off a few shots randomly before he began a quick scan of the building for his quarry.
He found nothing.
Outside, Elle, Melissa and Andrew panted as they sprinted through the trees, trying to put as much distance between them and their attacker as possible. Elle's precious clothes had been shredded by the impact with the table, and her wrists and face were bleeding slightly, but she was otherwise fine. Melissa was dazed, and Andrew's arm had been grazed by what he thought might have been a rusted fry-pan, but they too were none the worse for wear.
Boy #3, Jonathon, sighed, wearily. He had begun a slow search for his friends that he was now beginning to think was a bad idea. The silence that surrounded him was eerie and chilling. He'd thought that he'd done the right thing by setting out to find someone to be with, but now he got the feeling that chances were, they didn't want to see him.
When he'd left, he'd gone north, and ended up quite a long way away from the starting point. However, his fear of this lonely, seemingly endless island had begun to eat at him.
So, at around the start of the third hour, he'd turned and started back towards the bunker he'd left. As he walked, he kept a sharp eye out for his friends, but in the end, he'd ended up passing the bunker and was again in deep forest. He'd hoped to find some stragglers but to no avail. It was then that the thought occurred to him that if one was playing, finding everyone by the end of the three days would be a difficult feat. He hadn't seen ONE person, let alone the rest of the class.
Jonathon kept walking, his defences unconsciously lowering. His mental barriers broke down, and the thoughts he'd done his best to keep at bay were creeping in.
He thought he'd die and his body would never be recovered, and it would just rot in some distant corner of this hell-hole.
He thought he'd die and his friends would never know.
He thought he'd die.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, Jonathon stopped, dropping his bag to the ground. He hadn't peed since he'd arrived on the island, and thought that this was as good a time as any to relieve himself. He fumbled with his zip for a moment, when he got the sudden, hair-raising feeling that someone was watching him. He'd felt it two times before and each time he'd been right. The first time was when he was engrossed in a somewhat inappropriate television show on SBS, and realized his sister was behind him. The second was when he was playing Master of Orion 3 on his laptop during Math and the teacher arrived. Now the third had arrived, and it felt all the more sinister.
He whirled around, stepping towards his pack where he had left his assigned weapon, the nail-gun.
"Oh," He gasped, "Shit, it's you!"
Boy #1, Sam smiled, "Yes," He said, "It is me."
Jonathon sensed something strange. Sam's smile seemed, off, somehow. Fake. Evil. And he wasn't standing right. He was too straight. Normally, if he was just standing and waiting, like he seemed to be, a hand would be on his hip, which would be thrust out to one-side in an effeminate pose. But now, he was standing straight, hands behind him, with that…grin on his face. Leering at him…
He ignored it as best he could, and sat down. He opened his pack and took out one of the water bottles out.
Behind him, Sam approached, his fork held behind his back.
"What weapon did you get?" Jonathon asked, pulling his nail-gun from his bag and displaying it.
Sam stopped, and pulled his fork out from behind him, staring at it nonchalantly, like it was all some cosmic joke.
Jon stared at it too, stunned.
"You got a fork." He said, bluntly. The two boys gazed at the fork, before both began to laugh, almost uncontrollably. It was the kind of thing the two had laughed about at school…something that felt like years ago.
After a moment Jonathon fell silent, but Sam did not. He continued to laugh, and laugh and laugh. He couldn't stop. Not the right kind of laugh, Jonathon knew. It was forced, and unpleasant, and even the tears in Sam's eyes were obviously manufactured.
Sam's grip tightened on the fork.
A moment later, Jonathon gasped. He brought his hand up to his throat, and felt the cold metal of Sam's weapon, and the warm liquid that was his blood.
Sam stared down at his friend, his grin still there. He'd rushed over in a split second and rammed the fork upwards into the bottom of Jonathon's jaw, forcing the four prongs up through his tongue and into the roof of his mouth, pinning his tasting organ to it. The boy squealed as blood simultaneously poured from his mouth and gurgled down his throat, splashing it all over Sam's chest. Sam's grin didn't break as he narrowed his eyes in concentration, and began pressing the fork in as far as he possibly could. He could hear weak bone cracking and shattering, as the utensil worked its way up through the boy's skull.
Jonathon fell backwards. He cried out in pain, as he groped for something to hold onto, to squeeze to lessen the pain.
But he found nothing. Instead, all he found was dust. He writhed in agony, flopping about like a dying fish, screaming.
Sam watched this tableau with, of all things, amusement. Jonathon's thrashings reminded him of Darryl Hannah's struggles in both Blade Runner and Kill Bill Vol II.
He knew that what he had done would not kill the boy, but Sam was intrigued to find that he was enjoying this. However, the boy's pain began to tire him. As such, he threw one leg over Jon's chest and reached over to where Jon had dropped the nail-gun. Sam dragged it towards them, and pressed it to Jon's ear, before making sure that he was looking at him.
The boy's eyes were wide and tear-filled. He was still screaming out in pain, and as he realised what Sam was doing her began to thrash about with even more vigour.
"Sssssh!" Sam whispered, "It's okay, it's all fine."
He pulled the nail-gun's trigger twice. With a hiss of gas, the gun fired two nails into the boys head, penetrating through Jon's ear and burying themselves in his brain. He jerked for a moment, before lying still, his eyes freezing in their sockets and blood trickling from his ear.
Sam stood up and looked down at himself. He was quite literally coated in Jonathon's blood. Sam smiled, and stared at the dead body in front of him for quite a while, soaking it all in.
When he finally left his friend's body, he left the fork, sticking sickeningly from the boy's head. He was not disturbed by the blood, or the torn muscle tendons, or the spastic jerking of the corpse.
He just smiled slightly, as he turned on his heel and walked off into the forest.
Boy #3, Jonathon, dead.
35 Remain