Richie Stuart sat in his plush leather chair and smiled at the cameras. Following the instructions of the screens in front of them, the studio audience was going wild, waving banners in praise of their favourite contestants and homemade cardboard weapons. This was the noon show, several hours of analysis, commentary and live footage from the island, culminating in the second report, to be read at twelve noon sharp. Workers in the many state-owned factories got the morning off, so they wouldn't miss the Program. But productivity was high as ever, because everyone was so excited about the annual event.

"Thank you, thank you," said Richie Stuart, gesturing for the applause to quieten a bit so he could speak. "Well, we've reached another focal point in this year's Battle Royale. It has become a tradition that, at some point in the early to mid game, a group of enterprising students try to bring down the Program. Bombs, bullets, suicidal sword charges... I'm sure we all remember BR 2015."

The screens behind Richie Stuart showed some footage from the game of four years ago. It was night. The streetlights in the condemned estate chosen for that year's game were dead, the buildings dark and some scored with bullet holes. The only building occupied was the school, bristling with soldiers, and the soundtrack picked out the whirr of helicopter blades overhead. A blood-spattered boy, mad-eyed and screaming, ran at full tilt down the empty street towards the school, a sabre raised in his hand. The soldiers stood alert, aiming their rifles at him. Then, the boy's collar beeped twice as he crossed into the permanent danger zone. The cameras gave an extreme close-up on his face as it transmuted to a look of absolute horror, before his collar exploded in a shower of metal shrapnel and blood. The sword clattered to the ground, followed by his body.

"Not all," said Richie Stuart, "behave like the late Boy 6 there – thankfully. Sometimes, students refuse to play the game and manage a rare kind of group spirit – they vow to live and die together, to never give up until it's over. Stirring stuff. I think," he said, raising his arms to the screens all around, "that this year, we have a bad case of teamwork! Let's take a look at this morning's footage..."

-

"So, who came up with this?" said Lauren Norris, balancing the rear end of the ladder precariously on her shoulder as she struggled with her shotgun and daypack.

"Nat did," said Dave, puffing under the weight of the ladder. "I could never have thought of it."

Finally, they reached the megaphone pole on the mountain top and threw the ladder down. They were all out of breath from the steep climb, their ankles scratched by brambles, their knees scored from constant slipping on the loose rocks on the mountainside. But their spirits were high.

"I do drama club," Natalie explained. "I auditioned for a part in the play last year, then I broke my leg. It was a total nightmare at the time. I couldn't take the part with a plaster cast on, but by then I was really into the play, and I didn't want to be left out. So instead of acting I joined the sound engineer's team. These megaphones are the same make as the sound board we used in the production. I sort of know how the circuits are laid out, and if I'm remembering it all right, there's usually a way you can connect up a microphone directly to the sound speaker and override the main circuit." She laughed. "Mr. Fisher was in charge of the sound board. He used to activate the speakers at random times to scare us. Nothing worse than having the speaker behind you suddenly go, 'I can seee you!' "

"Perv," said Paul.

Lauren giggled. Natalie was such a nice girl, funny and pretty and kind – it was no wonder everyone liked her.

"Microphone?" said James Lewis. "Do we have one?"

"Yeah, no sweat," said Paul. "We were supposed to have band practice after school." He handed Dave the microphone. "No singing," he told him firmly. Lauren laughed too much.

"Wait… why are you all looking at me?" Dave moaned. "I can't… you can't expect me to…"

"You're good at this kind of thing," said Natalie. It was true. Dave had been the only one not to panic when Lauren came at them with her shotgun.

"There doesn't have to be a time limit... If we get enough people together, we can figure out a way... even that school can't stand up to twenty of us with weapons. Giving you that shotgun? Biggest mistake the bastards ever made. I wish they'd given me one. They armed us, we fuck them over. And we do it together."

We do it together…

"Okay, I'm going up," said Natalie. Dave and Paul manoeuvred the ladder into place for her, and she began to climb, affording a pleasing shot of the seat of her school trousers to the viewers at home. "If I fuck up, let me apologise in advance!"

The viewing screens froze on a shot of Natalie prising open the back of the megaphone with her screwdriver. Richie Stuart shook his head slowly, his face as stern as a schoolmaster.

"It took fifty-four minutes: slow but effective, I'd say, and we readily admit that the megaphones are not all they might be in terms of security, but we've never had anyone try anything like this before. Our phone lines have been jammed with calls from sound engineers testifying against Girl 10's methods – remember, she's operating on a live circuit, and the slightest slip would give her a fatal electric shock, eliminating her from the game in a most interesting way. So remember, don't try this at home."

"Pass us the pliers," called Natalie, wiping sweat from her brow. James scrambled up the ladder behind her and passed her the tools, at pains not to press against her body while maintaining his grip on the ladder. It turned out to be impossible to descend again without brushing Natalie's bottom. He hurried down, blushing hotly.

Natalie made a final adjustment, then blew into the microphone. The resultant crackle echoed across the mountain-top, amplified many times. After that came the cheering.

"Nat, you're a fucking STAR!" Dave yelled exuberantly and threw his arms around her as she jumped down from the ladder in triumph. "You did it!"

"Yeah…" said Natalie, still slightly dazed. She grinned like an idiot and hugged Dave back, pulling away only to massage her tired arms. "It works…"

"We've still got about an hour before the noon announcement," said Paul, "so Dave, you going to get up there and do your thing?"

"Suppose I've had it easy so far," said Dave, hauling himself up the ladder as if unwilling, and cleared his throat, the sound echoing weirdly across the open land. It was absurd. Now he was here, he wasn't sure what to say.

"Er… hi, everyone," he began. "This is Dave… Dave Brunning, on top of the mountain in the middle of the map. We've got into the megaphones, or at least, this one, so if you can hear me, listen up."

He looked down to Natalie for encouragement. She gave him thumbs-ups.

He cleared his throat. "I'm guessing that I'm not in an class full of secret homicidal maniacs. We're all just normal people, going to a normal lesson, and none of us wanted to be on the Program. You're scared, thinking that it's really bad luck but you'll have to do it? Screw that! You do have a choice! You really don't have to play! There's all kinds of things wrong with a country that lets this happen. Outside, you've got to behave yourself and do what you're told, but here, you're free, maybe for the first time in your life, and you've got a gun in your hand. There's me, and Paul, Natalie and James L, and I know there are more to come. I know if we manage to survive this we'll be outlaws, we'll be hunted, but you know, it's better than being dead. Just think about it for a minute. If you join with us, what's the worst that could happen? And what's the worst that could happen if you don't? We're waiting for you!"

-

"You see? Wasn't so bad after all," said Emma. She towelled off her hair on her school jumper and grinned at Zoe.

Zoe had not stayed in her cottage that morning. After Alex left, she went out to explore her immediate surroundings now she had the benefit of daylight. There she found Alicia, Erin and Emma, and she underwent the sea-bathing ritual under Alicia's instructions. Alicia had told her that she knew a way off the island, and Zoe had invited them back to the cottage to discuss the plan further. It was an opportunity she wasn't exactly going to ignore in her current situation, and she was glad to see the other girls were as well-armed as she was. The kitchen table was bristling with weapons, and on top of the improvised gas cooker a pot of pasta (also salvaged from the cupboards) was bubbling merrily, and it looked set to be a beautiful morning.

Then came Dave's announcement, echoing faintly on the eastern shore of the island, but audible all the same. Things started to go wrong at that point.

"We're going, right?" said Zoe, already on her feet, shotgun slung over her shoulder. "We'll get there for twelve, easily."

"We're not going," said Alicia, calm and serene, stirring the pasta. Her AK-47 rested on the back of her chair, but it was never too far from reach.

"I told Alex I'd... what do you mean, we're not going?" said Zoe, taken aback by the direct statement of intention, as if Alicia was in some position to issue orders for the group.

"Has it occurred to you," said Alicia pleasantly, "that perhaps this is not all it seems to be?"

"What are you talking about?" said Erin, standing beside Zoe. She wanted to go, although she knew it would be risky to leave the cottage, and even riskier to lose Alicia with her inside track. She wanted make the group bigger and save as many as possible.

"Alex told you that Natalie and Dave are behind this, but you haven't actually seen or spoken with either of them, have you?" said Alicia. Zoe had to shake her head. "I'd like to believe Alex, but at the moment, all we have is what he said, and to be honest, I don't know him that well. Supposing – God forbid – that he wanted to do away with us. Somebody is playing. Katie and Nina and Mahmoud are dead. You know this. If it's Alex, it would be in his interest to lure a girl on her own to some quiet lonely place, where no-one would hear until the next report."

Emma Litchfield shuddered. Alicia had just articulated her worst fear in the game. Alicia nibbled a pasta twirl to check it was cooked through, then drained the pan in the sink and, with Erin's help, began to dish up the girls' breakfast.

Zoe was unconvinced. "It's not one helpless girl. It's four of us, with guns. Alex doesn't even have a weapon."

"He hasn't shown it to you, so you believe he doesn't have one. Zoe…" Alicia sat down facing Zoe, laying hands on her forearms and gazing at her intensely, "the very fact that you want to trust Alex shows that you are innocent. We are all innocent hearts, and God always protects those who remain as little children. I believe that Alex will come back from the mountain and tell us what happened, and perhaps they'll all join us, and we'll escape together. We'll know he is true of heart, and worthy of our trust."

The girls all went quiet, staring at Alicia. It didn't seem that she was talking to any one of them, and her blue eyes were vacant, fixed on a high window where the morning sun poured in and pooled on the stone slabs of the kitchen floor. Erin had been about to say something, but seeing that Alicia was not really listening, she kept silent. More than once she'd prepared the case against religion for debating club at school, holding it responsible for most of the evils in the world, and certainly a lot of needless deaths. But here, now, her words lost their logical lustre faced with the calm confidence of Alicia Brown, and the Kalashnikov that never left her side.

Alicia snapped out of her reverie. She blinked, and said, "So we wait, and it's as simple as that. We stay here and wait, and we'll be perfectly safe and comfortable until it's time to go." She smiled at everyone. "Who wants another cup of tea?"

-

The echo of Dave's voice was faint on the south coast of the island, and Sami Modha (Boy 9) had to strain to discern the words amid the roaring of the waves. He listened, bending his head to keep out of the wind. When he had heard enough to understand what Dave was planning, he jumped to his feet.

"Sorry," he said to her, "Got to go. They're in danger, and I... I'm just sorry, OK? I'll help them and tell them about you."

He took off at a run, going fast, heading north towards the mountain summit. On the cliff behind him, the bodies of Nina Haczynski and Mahmoud Ibrahim lay motionless, side by side, their wounds cleaned, their eyes closed, and their hands folded across their chests.

-

"I wonder how he did that," said Bethany Tupper.

Alex shrugged. "I have no idea. Someone up there's a bit clever, I think. That sounded like the megaphones they use for the announcements. They must've somehow hacked into it."

"Yes," said Bethany. "They must have."

They walked in silence for a short way. For the first half hour, Alex had walked and Bethany trailed him in silence, but eventually she got bored and revealed herself to him, and just after that Dave's announcement was broadcast across the island. Alex was excited to finally find another person, and told Bethany he'd take her up to the mountain top where Natalie and Dave and the others were waiting, and that she didn't have to be scared any more.

"We have to turn here," said Alex, turning away from her to scan his map. "Yeah. That path goes into D4, and that was a danger zone at seven. This route leads right up to the summit."

"So that direction is north?" said Bethany, popping a clip into her Uzi.

"Yeah… didn't you get a compass?"

"I did," said Bethany, raising the gun, "but it doesn't work."

-

The rattle of rapid-fire gunshots was clearly audible on the south flank of the mountain, where James Lewis was on watch. He jumped, glancing about wildly, and readied one of his blow-darts. He began to hyperventilate. Not fair... I should have a weapon like that to protect myself! They can't get me… anyone else, not me!

Abigail Dawson (Girl 2) emerged from the bushes behind James at just that moment. Her bag hung from one shoulder and her school tie and jumper were nowhere in sight, her flash of red and blonde dyed hair further bucking the uniform regulations. In her hand was a flick knife.

"What's up?" she said. She was a small girl, and her footsteps were light – so James didn't hear her until she was right behind him.

That machine gun... Abigail, one of the bad girls... not me

He whirled round, the blowpipe pressed to his lips, and the dart shot forward with power borne from James's terror. He didn't even know what the darts did. Poison? Tranquiliser? He just had to defend himself in any way that he could.

Abigail reacted, flinging up a hand to protect her face. "Agh!" she cried, and when she looked again, the small dart was embedded in the back of her hand.

The two classmates stared at one another for a moment. Immaculately-dressed, straight-laced James Lewis, religious and hard-working and timid – and rebellious Abigail Dawson, bottom of the class, the archetypal bad girl. But who had turned on whom? Who had played the game?

"Um…" said James. He stared at Abigail. There was a little blood on her hand, but she didn't seem poisoned. She was all right. She was all right. Thank God.

"Thanks a lot," said Abigail, angrily wrenching the dart from her hand. "I heard it all – thought I'd come and see. Dave said your name... he said you were all trying to escape, so I thought I'd come. You're not supposed to be playing, you paranoid little fuck."

By now, Natalie, Dave and Paul had heard Abigail's cry and come running.

"Abby," called Dave, "what happened?"

She waved her injured hand at him. "He happened. Little bible-thumping dickhead. I was coming to join you…" She threw her bag back over her shoulders and turned, making ready to leave. "Won't be making that mistake again." Better off alone. Looking after myself, depending on myself, no-one there to let me down.

"All right, Abby," said Natalie, trying to calm her. "Looks like it was an accident, right? But for fuck's sake, James, put that thing away. It's a crap weapon. If someone really attacked you, what'd you do, fire a dart at them? Darts that don't even do anything."

"Unless you scored a direct hit in the eye," added Abigail.

James looked down despondently. He shoved the darts and blow pipe into his pocket and turned away.

"Abby," said Dave, "the escape plan's still on. It'd be good to have you with us, if you'll still come."

Abigail hesitated. "Yeah, yeah," she said after a moment. "All right. I'll bite. How exactly are you going to save us all?"

Then there was the ra-ta-ta-tat of the machine gun again, much closer at hand, and suddenly, everything went very wrong.

(3 eliminated; 21 to go...)