Just so you know, I began writing this story pre-Day of Doom, so Natalie and Evan are alive and well.

Cheers xx


The feeling of not showering for a week was not a good one. Dirt had seeped through Quinn's pores and into her nails. Her hair was flat and oily, split ends showing where they had never shown before. Pimples were dotted along the bridge of her nose, a problem she'd never have to deal with before.
Her whole body reeked of sweat and urine. So did everyone else's for that matter. Leave a dozen teenagers in a room for seven days and this is what you get. Hell.

Quinn noticed Ian at the sink, desperately trying to wash his hair under the tap with a sponge and lemon-scented soap detergent. She laughed inside. She didn't have enough energy to physically move her lips.

Whatever Kurt and Violet had hoped to achieve was obviously working. Every single person in the room was staring blankly ahead in a state of depression. Nobody talked to each other. They simply didn't have the energy. Kurt hadn't bothered to feed them since Monday when he brought McDonald's. That meant that Quinn hadn't eaten in almost two weeks. With great effort, she pulled up her top and looked at her chest in the mirror.
She could see her ribs clearly, her skin as thin as paper. What is happening to me?

The room had been equipped with a portable toilet, but Kurt and Violet had forgotten to attach the flush, so twelve people's faeces was just sitting in the toilet hole, letting out a stench so ghastly Quinn was beginning to lose her sense of smell.

Amy looked wrecked, her eyes boring into the Narnia cupboard so intensely that there were two small holes on the cupboard door. Quinn blinked. No, she was just imagining that.

"Amy?"

Amy turned around slowly. "Yes, Quinn?"

"You need to do something about this. I don't want to die looking like a homeless virgin."


Two hours of painful scrubbing and still his hair was not clean. Ian sank to the floor. He felt like crying but couldn't summon the energy.
Beside him, Jake was trying to call his brother Atticus. That wasn't going to work. Jake knew this, obviously, but he seemed to be in some sort of desperate state of hope that a miracle would occur. Ian had given up hope in hope a long time ago.

It just didn't help you when you needed it.

Suddenly, the cupboard door creaked open. Kurt and Violet came out, looking pleased with themselves. Ian automatically felt a surge of hatred.
Even more so when he saw Kurt gripping tightly onto his own hair gel.

"'Ian! My man! Hope you don't mind me using this," Kurt grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth.

With great difficulty, Ian stood up, stumbled over to Kurt, and punched him in the face.


A fight ensued.

Quinn was pulling out Violet's hair. Cissy and Lilya had grabbed Ian's hair gel and were smashing windows. Jake, Kevin and Ian were working on Kurt while Hamilton was kept busy being the incredible Hulk. Tables, chairs, couches, lamps. They all went flying.

The Cahills were no longer starving prisoners. They were animals.

After three hours of vicious battle and twenty security guards, the Cahills were sedated and it was decided that they should be put in a new chamber. One with an actual toilet.

Violet sat in the computer room, brushing her hair. "That little bitch. When I get hold of her, she's going to be strangled like never before!"

"Calm down Violet," said Kurt

"Calm down?! You-you want me to calm down? Look at my hair!" she screeched.

"Violet, we're going to get our revenge on them soon, okay? Just chill. This mission is really important and I don't want you screwing this up for me like you did last time."

"Fuck you."

Kurt sighed. He knew there was no point reasoning with her when she was like this. He touched his nose and his thoughts darkened. Ian had punched him so hard it had broken. The doctor said he would never look the same again. Kurt wasn't ready to give up his good looks yet, but he wanted another fight.

Badly.


Dan surveyed their new room. It was pretty snazzy. Twelve four-post beds, a sleek modern kitchen, and three bathrooms. Three! In the kitchen was a pantry stock-full of food, a fridge, a sink and a chalkboard. There was a small living area near that, with couches and board games from the 18th century.
Better than nothing. A small, airy gym was squeezed in there as well. There were also windows and a door that led to a nice garden. Beyond that was desert. And more desert. And more desert. Amy had guessed the Sahara, but Dan wasn't so sure. He had seen the Sahara Desert before.
This one looked similar, but more artificial.

Nobody had suggested they escape. It was out of the question. Everybody was starving, battered, bruised and had just woken up from being sedated for twelve hours. They needed a rest.


Amy called a meeting in the living room.

"We can't do that again. We became savages in there. We lost all sense of ourselves and turned into a bunch of wild animals driven insane by hunger. From now on, we've got to establish a strict routine so that we don't go entirely nuts."

She turned to the chalkboard where she had written down a daily schedule.

"We will wake up at seven-thirty each morning, to have breakfast at eight. At nine will be fitness training outside for one and a half hours, or you can go to the gym. Then the groups will swap at ten-thirty, and at twelve we have lunch. At one will be lessons, where we learn from each other, and at two-thirty you will have half an hour of free time. At three we will have 'strategizing', where we basically try and think of ways to escape. Four till six you can do anything you want, and dinner is right after that. I don't want to be a prune but everyone should be asleep by nine. Any questions?"

Dead silence.

And so began their life in the artificial-looking Sahara Desert.