Chapter 6: Comes with the dawn

Summary:

The sun rises on the first day.

Armin stays seated and Mikasa stays standing as Kenny Ackerman clears his throat.

"Good morning, students, it is now six AM." Kenny's voice, still low and rough, is even more nonchalant than it had been in the classroom. It sounds like it's coming from all around, but Armin can't see any speakers. "For our first announcement, we'll start with your dead friends."

Mikasa closes her eyes, going very still. Armin wants to comfort her in some way, but he's frozen too, just waiting.

"Let's see. Since you have been released, there have been the deaths of student number 5, Hannah Ballard; student number 12, Mina Carolina; and student number 13, Franz Chandler." Kenny makes a vague noise that could mean anything. "That's impressive." A compliment.

Armin just feels sick. Three. Three of his classmates are dead. He can see their faces in his mind's eye, smiling and very much alive.

And confirmation that people are playing. That's great. Dandy.

This game feels so much more real now. There are killers out there.

"Now for the new forbidden areas," Kenny continues. "First, J2, forbidden at 7 AM on the dot. Next, F1, forbidden at 9 AM on the dot. And last, H8, forbidden at 11 AM on the dot. These are exact times, students, so start moving out-or moving in, if you need anything. See you again at noon, kiddos."

It's quiet again. Armin exhales. Mikasa is silent, finally sitting down next to him. She reaches into her daypack and pulls out the class list and the map. She starts with the list, and her pencil hovers over the small box next to Hannah's name.

A checklist. They've been supplied with checklists.

Armin opens his mouth to ask her not to check it off (he knows they need to keep track of the dead somehow, but not by some sort of hit list), but she reacts before he can.

Slowly and deliberately, Mikasa draws a little star in Hannah's box, then Mina's, then Franz's. "You think they were together?" she asks softly, focusing on shading them in. "Hannah and Franz. Maybe they committed suicide."

Armin recalls the first gunshots they'd heard. Close enough together that it might have been one person being attacked, but more likely two. "They might have been together," he agrees. "But I don't think they committed suicide."

Mikasa nods and sighs. "Did you hear him call them our friends?"

"Because they are." Armin's already sick of this. The game had been going on for not even five hours at this point and three kids are already dead. Five counting Lynne and Henning.

"They are, but…" Her brow is furrowed; she looks frustrated. "In the classroom, he called them our enemies." She's moved onto the map now and is working on shading in the new forbidden zones (they're in A8, still safe). "He's calling them our enemies to get us to kill each other, and when we do, he wants to go, 'Wow, you kiddos murdered your own friends. Impressive.'"

Armin hadn't even picked up on that. And Mikasa had never been one to look for the deeper meaning in words. The roles are already reversing.

"You think that's why Levi didn't want to wait for us?" he asks. She shrugs.

"Who knows?" she murmurs, still not looking at him. "Point is, he didn't. He might even be playing."

Armin bites his lip. The idea that anyone is playing is by itself abhorrent, and Levi had never seemed like the kind of person who would put his safety over everyone else's. But there's really no other reason he can think of to explain why Levi would rather be alone.

"Then we can't concern ourselves with finding him," Armin says. "Not even if we figure out a way to escape."

Mikasa peeks at him through her curtain of hair. "Which we will."

Clear across the island, Levi Ackerman is almost shaking with rage (and maybe a bit of fear, though he'd never admit it, not even to himself). The announcements have just ended, and memories are coming back full force.

The first time Levi had heard Kenny Ackerman's voice, he was young, only about four or five years old, and coloring on the floor under the kitchen table right at his father's feet. He remembers the sound of their front door being knocked down, the pounding feet, his father's surprised shout as he stood, an unfamiliar man's voice saying something about anti-whatever, and lastly a gunshot, then another and another––not that he'd recognized them as for what they were at the time. He'd seen his father's body fall.

Levi had stayed frozen underneath the table throughout it, the crayon in his hand broken from pressing down too hard. The red dot on his paper had looked like the new holes in his father's shirt.

He'd remained perfectly still even when a face came into his view, and he was being lifted out from underneath the table onto someone's lap, someone who had taken his father's seat. The man had said something like, "Sorry you had to see that, buddy," but even as barely more than a toddler, Levi had recognized it as bullshit. He still hadn't moved, silently staring at the body on the floor as casual conversation went on over his head. It had probably been a traumatic experience, but Levi thinks he'd been too young and confused to remember it as such.

Past that, there'd been his mother's scream when she'd finally come from work, her snatching him from the man, her weeping, her enraged shouting––she'd flipped out––and her holding him much too tight. He guesses she'd thrown out their kitchen table and chairs sometime after, because growing up he doesn't remember having one outside of that experience.

What he does remember is his mother spending the next seven years fighting tooth and nail to get them relocated out of Stohess, farther out of the government's reach. And every so often, maybe twice a year, that man would show up at his house, probably to terrorize his mom for kicks. It had taken a while, but Levi had eventually learned that the man who'd killed his father was his uncle Kenny Ackerman, a very high ranking government official. He also suspected the murder was a personal thing, but he didn't get any confirmation for that.

He'd never gotten a good look at his face before now. But Levi doubts he'll ever forget that voice.

So. He hadn't seen/heard this man in six years––since they'd moved to Trost and finally got a dining table––and here he is. Still the same sadistic fuck, now heading the childmurder games.

Levi hates him. He wants him dead.

Right now, though, he has to concern himself with finding somewhere else to settle. He's in the soon-to-be forbidden J2, at the southernmost tip of the island. According to the small LED screen on the device in his hand, he's the only one in the area. It's what he'd been given instead of a weapon, a kind of GPS that seems to pick up all the other collars on the island, not just his. It's useful, probably even more useful than a weapon. According to it, he'd been absolutely alone since entering the area.

He's going to use this to keep it that way.

Levi's not really sure of what his plan is for the Program yet, but at least with this he can keep out of everyone's way until he figures something out.

Saltines and water. What a well-rounded meal.

Eren's pretty sure this is just another cruel joke on behalf of whoever had packed the bags, right up there with that morbid checklist and the cheap plastic watches set seven minutes behind. With only a liter of water, they already have to carefully ration it, so of course the only food they're going to get is just going to make them dehydrate that much faster.

"Here." Jean, munching on a handful of crackers, pulls a strawberry breakfast bar out of his own duffel and tosses it to Eren. "So you don't have to drink as much water."

Eren glances at it and then throws it back. "Save them for when we're almost out," he says. "When we can't eat the crackers anymore."

"We'll run out of water faster if we don't start eating these now." Jean rips open the pack and hands Eren half. "I'm not going to let you faint from dehydration in two days time, because I doubt the water is going to last that long. We haven't had anything since dinner yesterday. Come on."

Eren actually hadn't eaten since having a brownie after school yesterday; even though they didn't need to be back at school till seven-thirty, his dad had been working nearly that late and barely made it home in time to pick up his children and drop them off for their trip. He and Mikasa were used to taking care of themselves for dinner, but neither of them had felt like bothering.

So Eren takes the piece he's being given and crams more crackers into his mouth.

It's just past seven o'clock on Saturday morning, and they're pretty safe for now. After being shot at last night, they'd only ventured a couple hundred feet away from their original spot, neither of them wanting to stumble around in the dark woods for long or fuss with their flashlights to see the maps. So they'd plunked down somewhere and stayed awake and alert till the sun came up. Only then did they start moving again.

The maps had been easy enough to figure out, thankfully; the ground had detailed contours, buildings were relative to each other, the roads seemed to be accurate, and there was even a key and scale. They're now settled in D3, hidden by shrubbery but still with good visibility all around them. Downhill, where the ground levels out after the steep slope, there's an open field, and farther up, there's thicker brush. That had actually been where Jean insisted they stay, but Eren had refused. Other people in the area would want better cover too, and he's not interested in meeting any other students, especially not so soon after being shot at.

"So," Jean says, taking a swig of water. "First priority is finding Marco, Armin, Mikasa, and Levi, right?"

Eren nods. He's not terribly concerned about finding any of them, since he knows they can all take care of themselves (especially since the latter three are together and likely hunkered down somewhere), but he really wants to find them before too many people have died. Preferably by tomorrow morning, so the second part can get in motion. "You get your tablet from Marco so you can figure out a way to hack into the system. You're sure you can get in?"

Eren expects him to start boasting about his skills, but Jean's hazel eyes are unusually dark. "I'm pretty sure I can," he says slowly. "We should try to find a house so I can get onto that Wi-Fi, but yeah. Probably."

"You'll manage," Eren says confidently. He doesn't know the extent of Jean's hacking talent, but he does know that ever since he'd met him three years ago, Jean always knew more about computers and technology than anyone in the room. Probably not impressive in the grand scheme, but this is a life or death situation. He'll figure something out. "So once you've done that, you'll be able to see where all the collars are, right? And once you've got that, we can get on with gathering everyone."

"Probably." Jean is rubbing his collar. Eren reaches out to smack his hand away. "Look, people are already playing the game. Three people are dead, and someone was shooting at us only a few hours ago. How are we going to know who's still friendly and who's… not?"

"We have to have faith in everyone, Jean." Eren crosses his arms tightly across his chest. "Whoever shot at us clearly wasn't interested in landing a kill, and for all we know, people had just run into each other and gotten startled. Besides, can you really imagine anyone here going out of their way to kill people?"

"That isn't the point, Eren. The point is, we need to be careful about approaching people. Especially if they've got guns and startle easy."

Eren's about to counter that-of course they'd be careful-when he hears the bushes to his left start rustling.

Someone else is here. Jean freezes and goes white. Eren reaches for his knife, wondering how quickly he could get to the gun (since Jean's not going to do anything about it). The rustling gets closer and closer.

A cat emerges from the bushes. It's thin with gray fur, and goes straight to Jean, who breathes a sigh of relief.

"Oh my God," he says, reaching for the animal. "I thought someone was there."

Eren doesn't answer. He looks out to where the cat had come, then looks up.

Standing there, just thirty feet away, is someone wearing the same dark green tracksuit that marks them as a student of Trost High School on an educational outing. It's Gunther Schulz, Levi's friend from the cross-country team. He's holding a knife.

Jean dives for his bag but Eren's already on his feet, his knife out of its sheath and aimed. That sets it off. Gunther starts running.

Eren Jaeger sees his life flash before his eyes.

He blocks Gunther's initial strike with his knife and ducks, but the blade clips his ear as he does so. He thinks-pretty hysterically-that wow, it's exactly where he'd wanted a piercing a few years ago.

The next blow Eren barely manages to stop, and it cuts open his cheek. He drops his own knife now, because wrestling with Gunther is hard enough without having to make sure he doesn't stab his own self through the face too. And then he finds himself running backwards over the steep slope.

No one has said a word. Not Eren, not Gunther, not even Jean, still uphill.

The hill grows steeper, Eren runs faster, and Gunther's still trying to force the knife into his head. Gunther's bigger and heavier than he is, and while Eren's good at basic self-defense, wrestling isn't his strong point at any means.

In desperation, he tries to kick Gunther's feet out from under him, but he loses his balance, they both lose their balance, and then they're tumbling down the hill.

And Eren still manages to hold onto Gunther's wrists. The fall is chaotic, and the whole time he's pushing the sharp object away from him.

It works a little too well. At the bottom of the hill, when they've stopped, Eren realies that Gunther's stopped fighting. And the reason for that is… Eren had ended up forcing the blade of the knife into his throat, just above the collar. The blood is dripping on him. He lets go and moves out from under the body.

"Eren? Eren!" Jean sounds pretty frantic, running down the slope to him. It's then that Eren realizes that this whole exchange hadn't even taken a minute. Not even half a minute. He gets to his feet, shaking, then looks at Gunther's corpse. He remembers Lynne, still lying on the classroom floor, still with that knife stuck in her head with no one to take it out.

He swallows hard, then takes hold of this knife's handle. Gunther's eyes, wide open and glazed, stare up at him. He pulls.

The knife comes out easily, slicked with red but gleaming silver underneath. His stomach rolls and he drops it, still shaking. Oh, man. Oh, man.

"Eren, come on." Jean's tugging on him now, leading him away. Eren lets him.

"Why didn't you shoot him?" Eren asks.

They're sitting back on the bushes, where their stuff had been; the cat is long gone. Jean pulls a t-shirt out of his duffel bag and reaches for his water bottle. Using it to dampen the cloth, he takes a calming breath. Right now, getting Eren cleaned up is top priority. It just means he has to be a little more careful from now on, at least until they get to a house with running water.

"Jean," Eren says, as Jean reaches out to clamp a hand on top of Eren's head.

"I heard you," he says, starting to wipe the blood off Eren's cheek and neck. There's a lot of it, already soaking into the collar of his track jacket. "I just didn't want to hit you,okay? And it happened so fast…" He clenches his teeth, briefly. "I panicked." Just like he did last night. "Hold still."

Eren obediently stiffens his neck. It's a bad cut; every time Jean wipes some blood away, more comes gushing out. And there's also the matter of Jean not really being sure of just how clean his shirt is.

But mostly, what bothers him is the flat look in Eren's eyes. Inwardly, Jean sighs. "Look," he says. "Save the breakdown for later. Gunther made the choice to play and he died from it. Yeah, you probably set him off by pulling that knife, but when it gets down to it, Gunther made a choice."

"Yeah." Eren turns slightly away and Jean sees the knife must have clipped his ear too. Ugh. "I get it. You have to fight to live. Gunther and I fought and I won. It's done."

Not really. Jean remembers how terrified he'd been when Eren had been attacked. It was just like the incident several hours ago; he'd freezed up, trying to aim but not being able to just pull the trigger already, even when Eren was in the process of being murdered. Even if he had been able to get a clear shot (which he hadn't, he really had been afraid he'd accidentally hit Eren), he doubts he could have actually brought himself to fire. Even if Gunther had killed Eren and come for him next, he's not sure if he could have done it.

Jean rips open a box of Band-Aids (the only means of first aid supplied in the daypack, not even some gauze or rubbing alcohol. Because Band-Aids are great for knife and gunshot wounds) and gets to work plastering several on Eren's cheek, trying to hold the cut closed. "Yeah," he says. "Easy."

30 students remaining.