Hour 5
Eli Kraston (Boy No. 7) leaned against the side of a dusty pew from his seat on the floor of the church and smiled. The bristles of his assigned weapon tickled his fingertips as he brushed it across his hand. A toothbrush. That was his weapon and with it he would have to defend himself and eventually venture out onto the playing field to find Victoria. He laughed quietly at his luck and the laughter reverberated through the chapel bitterly.
Eli wondered about the people who lived on the island. Did they know why they were evacuated? If they did would they come back? Eli couldn't imagine anyone coming back to worship in this same church that he cowered in and awaited his death.
Eli stood and walked up to the podium that stood directly under the stain glass window of Jesus hanging from his bloody crucifix. He grabbed the dim reading lamp from it and threw it to the ground. The bulb and glass base exploded on the floor and the light faded leaving Eli in almost complete darkness. The boy pulled out the shard of glass lodged in his hand and picked up the largest chunk of glass.
Kneeling in the wreckage of the lamp, which reflected the moonlight in broken shards, Eli began sawing into the front of the podium. He didn't stop tracing in the wood until 20 minutes later. Then he sat back to look at his work. Engraved in the wood were the words "Children died in the House of God." The words were clear and the calligraphy, a tribute to Eli's artistic skills was elaborate.
.:X:.
"WAKE UP!"
Lee Thompson (Boy No. 15) awoke with a sweat. He felt sharp nails grip his arms and he was being shake from side to side. The voice wasn't much above a whisper, but it seemed frantic. Frantic with what, he could not tell. Was the person shaking him awake happy to see him or eager to kill him? He couldn't risk it.
Without cracking open an eyelid, he snatched the handle of his assigned weapon (a medieval looking mace) and swung it so the jagged head collided with the center of his assailant's back. The hiss of pain was sharp and feminine. He felt the girl roll off of him and he grabbed his flashlight.
"Baby?"
The girl looked up and flashed him a bitter smile through the pain on her face. "So I'm thinking I should have woken you up slower?" A laugh escaped his cracked lips and Lee sank to the ground where he threw his arms around Lucy Elliot (Girl No. 6), his girlfriend.
He stroked her hair and breathed in the fresh scent of her shampoo. He smiled; it was Neutrogena from the same bottle he had spied in her shower cleaning up after the first night they had spent together.
"God, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you. Are you okay?" He looked over her shoulder to view the damage. Pretty large patches of blood were bleeding through the back of her white shirt. Damn.
Lucy smiled. "I've gone through worse. Having five brothers will toughen you up, you know?" Lee returned the smile, relieved that he hadn't seriously harmed his girlfriend. "But it seems like you got a better weapon than me! A mace, huh? Doesn't get much more horror movie than that."
Lee grinned again. "Yep. I figured I was pretty lucky. What did you get stuck with?" Lucy pulled away from his embrace and rolled a bit to her left, too lazy to crawl on her knees. She returned into Lee's limited field of vision grasping a large wooden pole. It was about five feet tall, only five inches shorter than its carrier, but Lucy seemed to master it well.
"Not too bad, I guess," Lucy commented. "But I sure wouldn't have minded something a step or two up."
"Not bad at all," Lee agreed as he wrapped her in his arms. Lucy tucked her head under his chin. "God, Luce, what are we going to do?" Lucy shifted a bit in his arms. She was one of the most confident and secure people Lee knew. She was so comfortable in her own skin, but now she seemed nervous and flighty.
"Lee, promise me that you'll understand, that you'll think about it before hating me…" She rearranged herself so that she faced Lee. He could see the tears in her clear blue eyes.
"I could never hate you." The answer was confident and automatic. Lee loved Lucy. It didn't matter if she murdered his right here to save herself, he would die loving her.
"Good… Lee I think the only thing to do is… to kill." She breathed sharply and looked straight at him. "Not each other, of course, I could never kill you. Or our friends…but people. One of us has to survive. I'm fine with it being you, but I at least want to last, you know? We're tough, not bad people, but tough. No one will be eager to team up with us, you know that. And I hate this, but damn it there's no way out and one of us has to survive! I haven't gone this far to lay down with a bullet in the head. One of us is going to live and be someone. Lee, we have to."
Lee nodded. "I know, baby. I know. I hate it too, but I can't let you die and right now that's not just a matter of protecting you because you will die if anyone else is alive in three days. So they have better be dead as hell in three days so you walk off this island."
"Lee, it isn't just me living. I meant one of us. You or me. Maybe one of us will die or maybe we'll have to choose, but we aren't going to kill each other. That's for damn sure."
Tears leaked out of Lee's hazel eyes. "You know I love you, Lucy. Right?" She smiled and nodded. "We'll look after each other…I'm just so glad we found each other. And I'm not just talking about on this island. I mean in the world. Out of all the people I could have met I met you. Damn I'm lucky." Lucy took a choking breath and Lee hugged her slight frame to his and they fell asleep in the forest.
.:X:.
Jennifer Nolan (Girl No. 18) sneered for at least the fifth time at her assigned weapon. A seven-pound weight? Pathetic. When she asked what kind of weapons were available in the classroom her answer had been positive. What was it Emerson had said? That most were good. In her opinion her weapon wasn't good. In fact it sucked.
Jennifer knew she had the will to kill, and was one of the few who did. This should give her a considerable edge because she had ruled out all "internal conflicts" in the beginning, but Jennifer was un-athletic and the sucky weapon just pulled her further down. Besides this, her question would make the other players suspicious of her from the start. Befriending and then betraying was almost completely out of the question. Jennifer cursed silently at her luck. She had the will to survive but not the means.
She sighed and decided to make due. Jennifer wouldn't just sit here waiting for a bullet to the head, damn it, she was going to take charge of this game! As if an answer to her epiphany, a stray beam of light caught her eye. It was about 200 meters away. Without a second thought, Jennifer grabbed her weight and headed towards the light. This was about to get interesting….
Her breath caught and her pace slowed, as she got closer. Hiding behind the brush and balancing perfectly on the leafy ground, she could see the blurred profile of her pray. The profile was strong but the nose and lips curved. It was almost androgynous, but if Jennifer was asked she could have considered it feminine. Lunging like a tiger, Jennifer fell upon her victim. While Jennifer was usually clumsy and awkward, the game had brought out both her primitive nature and inner grace.
Lifting the weight over her head as a tomahawk, Jennifer brought it down into the head of her prey. As Shylah Davies (Girl No. 5) screamed in pain, Chelsea Franklin (Girl No. 7) arose from the ground where Jennifer had not noticed her. Chelsea gasped at the sight of a ruffled Jennifer Nolan repeatedly bashing her friend in the head with a work out weight.
It was almost comical; Jane Fonda on acid, taking out one of her back-up demonstrators. Shylah hissed in pain again and struggled to regain her thought process. Slowly it came back: Passed out. Battle Royale. Emerson. Fae. Chelsea. Kill or be killed. The large girl lifted one arm to deflect the blow of the weight from her head and grabbed her weapon: a retractable exacto-knife. Her thumb fumbled to lock the blade securely in place. As soon as she heard the metallic click, Shylah whipped up her hand and dug the blade into the side of Jennifer's cheek.
God, it was strange to watch the blood pour from the wound. In movies blood didn't spurt or spray, it merely flowed neatly and steadily. This cut was the exact opposite. A waterfall of blood poured and sprayed out of the cut. Shylah was reminded of the soap sprayed in a carwash. Besides that, the movies never showed the flesh behind deep cuts. Movie stars were clean and crisp inside, but with the fairly moderate cut, Shylah could see blood vessels popping and muscles wreathing and rippling where the exacto-knife removed her skin. Jennifer's hands flew to her face and Shylah vomited up an acidly fluid.
"Bitch…" Jennifer muttered as she wiped at her raw cheek. "Bitch!" She screamed and pounced on Shylah again. Chelsea screamed. She was a nonviolent person and she was scared out of her mind.
"Go, Chelsea!" Shylah screamed as she crawled at Jennifer. "I'll catch up with you in a bit!"
"But—I c-can't lea-"
"RUN!" Screamed Shylah. Chelsea did as was instructed, running off into the night as tears streamed down her face.
Jennifer deflected the punch of Shylah's hard fist and brought her knobby elbow into Shylah's face three consecutive times. Shylah felt two teeth shake and the fall from her gums. Jennifer was tough for such a skinny girl, she had to give her that. Ultimately Shylah used her greater weight to throw the girl off of her and roll on top of her. She landed two successful punches to Jennifer's ruined face. Splotches of red immediately formed across Jennifer's nose and forehead. Internal bleeding? Now this is what we should be learning in health class.
Jennifer snarled and rolled out from under her bigger opponent. She grabbed the discarded exacto-knife. Prefect. Launching on her haunches, Jennifer managed to pin down Shylah while sinking the blade into Shylah's shoulder. She giggled as the red sprayed almost rhythmically.
Shylah grimaced. The blood was making her sick and her throat was still scraped raw from the vomit. Besides that, Her head throbbed and face killed. Jennifer crawled up onto her stomach, placing a knee at the base of her throat. She smiled grimly and lowered the knife to Shylah's throat. Shylah gurgled slightly.
This was it. Jennifer Nolan of Kansas was fading and Jennifer Nolan, killer extraordinaire, was born. Jennifer finished drawing the blade across her prey's throat and watched as Shylah wreathed in pain as blood flew from her throat and filed her lungs. Shylah attempted to choke Jennifer in her final moments, but the blood loss and shock made her movements jerky and inaccurate and she died in a matter of seconds.
Strange, Jennifer thought, she still managed to maintain a degree of control of her body as her very lifeblood poured out. Jennifer put a tentative hand to her face. It was wet and sticky. Luckily the cut wasn't all that deep. Jennifer giggled. A weight and a exacto-knife; not bad.
In pure bliss she regarded Shylah's warm corpse again. The blood was still wet and pure looking in the moonlight. Dragging the knife's blade throw the body's wounds, Jennifer obtained a couple drops of blood. She slowly, carefully licked the blade. She smiled; wonderful. Without a moment's hesitation, Jennifer sank the knife into the girl's stomach, cutting free a chunk of flesh. It dripped blood in her thin hand as she brought it to her lips. It wasn't until Jennifer had eaten that she noticed the chainsaw Chelsea had left glinting in the moonlight. A blood-stained mouth twisted into a bite tooth grin.
.:X:.
A/N Ak!! That even grossed me out!! EWW. Bleh. So Jennifer is basically a carnivorous Katie Antrim…. UGHHHH bad image of a girl eating someone…raw! Sorry about that, lol. I guess I'm too twisted for my own good.
