1Fourth Hour – 43 Students Remaining

As he pushed a low lying branch out of his way only to stumble over yet another unseen root instead, B8, a.k.a Chael Tovaras, couldn't help but once again curse his misfortune. Not only had he been kidnapped and thrown onto an island in the middle of nowhere with the express purpose of fighting to the death with his fellow classmates for some sick bastards personal entertainment, but he'd also been screwed out of any chance he might have had of surviving when he was assigned a fucking butter knife as his weapon. On top of all this, his side was still hurting from when Barret stomped on him after he tried to charge him, rewarding him with a fresh stab of pain every time he stumbled or turned too much; he was almost certain by this point that at least one of his ribs had been cracked, if not more.

Even so, he thought that he might still have a chance. He could still move and fight well enough, all he had to do was get his hands on a decent weapon and see how far that got him. There was just one problem with that, however.

"Hey Chael, wait, slow down!"

Chael stopped for a second to allow Trina Nichols, a.k.a G12, time to catch up. They had run into each other not long after she had left the mess hall, while he was still trying to fully catch his breath after Barret knocked the wind out of him. Trina, along with Elliot, were Chael's closest friends at school. The three of them were rarely seen without at least one of the others with them. Upon finding him, she quickly decided it would be best for both of them to team up. While he would much rather have spent his time on the game alone, he couldn't exactly turn her away.

Chael looked down at the large metal pipe wrench that Trina had given him earlier, stating that it was "too heavy" for her to use. It certainly was cumbersome, but he could wield it easily enough. At least with one more person around he was able to get another weapon to replace the butter knife he had discarded earlier. It wasn't much, especially compared to the guns and knives that most other people had probably been given, but at least now he had something to defend himself with.

The problem with her presence stemmed from the fact that Trina absolutely hated violence, especially when it involved one of her friends. This meant that Chael's temper and the frequent fights it led to were a point of contention between them. As such, he usually tried to make an effort not to let his temper get the best of him, at least until she left. All of which meant that as much as he would have liked to take part in the game, if only for the chance of meeting Barret again once he won, he simply couldn't. Not as long as she was around, anyway.

Maybe that was a good thing, though. Back in school, she was always the one that tried to keep Elliot and himself out of trouble. And while it didn't always work, he had to admit that if it wasn't for her, the two of them probably would have been expelled a long time ago. At least while she was with him she would keep him from making rash decisions.

"So, where are we going, anyway?" Chael was broken out of his thoughts and looked to his side to see Trina standing there waiting for an answer.

Removing the map from his pocket, Chael looked it over and considered his options. From the look of things, every important building on the island- especially the newer military buildings- were joined together by one main road. It ran almost the entire length of the island, with several smaller roads branching off of it. They had seen this for themselves earlier and had tried to avoid walking along it due to how exposed it would leave them. Since the beginning of the game the two of them had more or less been wandering north aimlessly. They had crossed a narrow stream at one point, which, if Chael guessed right, should put them somewhere between the motor pool to the south and the warehouse to the north.

"Looks like our only options are the motor pool and the warehouse. Which do you want to go to?" Chael turned the map toward Trina to allow her to read it over his shoulder and pointed out where he thought they were. She pointed out a building closer to the centre of the island.

"Why not just go to the barracks? It's just as close as the other buildings and it would be better to go someplace you can rest up and give your ribs a chance to heal."

"Because it's too obvious. The barracks are the closest building to where we started and a lot of people are going to want to go there for the same reasons you just mentioned. It's close, and people are going to want to go there to rest. If someone isn't there already, then they will be soon enough and I'd rather not take the risk of running into somebody dangerous."

"Okay, okay. Well, since neither of us knows anything about cars, how about we go north? Toward the warehouse?" With this said, Trina swiftly turned away and began walking in the direction of the warehouse, leaving Chael to quickly put the map back in his jacket pocket and hurry to catch up with her. This caused his ribs more undue stress and they gave him a quick stab of pain to remind him to take it slower.

"I hope Elliot is having an easier time of things than we are...."

****

'Under different conditions this might actually be a nice place to visit.'

Emerging from the trees along the eastern shore, this was the first thought that ran through the mind of B2, a.k.a Elliot Starlin. Having headed directly west after leaving the mess hall, he now found himself on a beach that stretched as far as he could see in either direction, seemingly covering the entire eastern edge of the island.

After the view, the next thing Elliot noticed was how quiet everything seemed. The open environment, along with the sound of the tide, was a stark contrast to the claustrophobic mass of trees he had just left behind, giving the whole place an eerie stillness to it. Apparently, being the third person to be let out had given him enough of a head start that he was the first to reach this edge of the island. Even with how far he could see in either direction, there wasn't anyone else in view.

The beach itself was almost featureless, the only objects of note being a small wooden pier and an overturned rowing boat which sat next to it. Despite knowing that it would most likely prove pointless, Elliot walked over to the pier in order to get a better look at the boat. Sure enough, upon closer inspection even he could see that the boat would be no use; the wood was clearly rotting away and large holes had been worn clean through in places. Not that it mattered much. Even if it was still capable of being taken out on the water, an escape by sea was obvious enough that there had to be something stopping him. Maybe the collars had a maximum range and they would blow up if he got too far out.

Turning north, Elliot spotted something above the trees. As he got further down the beach, he made it out to be the tip of a building; based on what he saw on the map earlier, it was probably the lighthouse at the top of the island. That seemed as good a place as any to go next, so he began walking along the beach in that direction.

He didn't exactly like being out in the open like this, being this exposed, but it was much faster than trying to make his way through the closed-in trees of the forest. Just to be safe, he removed his supplied weapon, a Colt M1911, from where he hid it at his back and held it by his side. The weight of the pistol made him feel somewhat safer. He removed the magazine from the weapon in a motion he had practiced earlier and checked that it was fully loaded before moving on.

Looking back out to sea, he noticed another problem with the idea of escaping by boat. Namely that there was nowhere to escape to. Scanning the horizon, Elliot expected to see land in the distance, or at least a boat or ship; anything other than the open expanse of water that stretched to the edge of his vision. Either this meant that he was simply on the wrong side of the island to see such things, or they were a lot farther from home than any of them realized.

****

To Adrian Starr, a.k.a B21, the barracks were a sight for sore eyes. He'd been running ever since leaving the mess hall - being one of the last ones out meant he had a lot of catching up to do - and his legs were on the verge of collapsing under him. The chance for a rest outweighed the risk of running into another student at this point.

Ignoring the urge to just head straight into the main building, Adrian decided to first walk around the clearing that held the barracks, looking for any outward signs that anyone was already inside. The barracks consisted of two separate buildings. The first was a large, one story building which, when the island was still being used as a military base, would house the soldiers while they were off duty. The second, smaller building turned out to be a bathroom facility, with a shower block taking up one half of the building and bathroom stalls and sinks taking up the other.

Leaving the bathroom facility for now, Adrian walked around to the front of the barracks and approached the aged, iron double doors. They were stuck together with years of rust and disuse, and the old hinges made a loud screeching noise as they gave way, but he got them open.

Entering the barracks, he found himself in a large room which took up almost the entire interior of the building. The room was occupied by plain, metal bunk beds which lined either side of the room, about fifteen in all. Most were either broken or near enough to said state that he didn't want to try sitting on one, but a few appeared intact enough for use.

Adrian threw his pack onto the nearest such bunk, taking the fact that it didn't collapse under the impact as a good sign, and went back to close the doors behind him. They made another loud screech as he pushed them closed and he dragged another bunk over in front of the doors for good measure; at least if anyone tried to get in, he'd hear them.

Walking back over to the bunk, he moved his pack onto the floor and stretched out on the mattress. He felt something digging into his side and put his hand into his pocket, removing his assigned weapon - an army combat knife - and dropping it next to him on the bunk.

While he had the chance, he thought he might as well get some rest; at least until the first announcement woke him up. The way he saw it, most of the others would spend the first part of the game running and fighting. If he instead spent a few hours resting, it would give him an advantage later on. And in this contest that could mean the difference between life and death.