01/05/2019 – 13:02 – DAY 1 of BR2019UK – C5 (North-east coast)

-

When she came for him, Dave did the only sensible thing he could think of. He ran.

The plan had been to have her chase him, to let Natalie escape, and then somehow lose her in the woods. Easier said than done. She just wouldn't give up. His lungs ached and his leg muscles were screaming at him, but he had to keep going. Now, after nearly an hour, he was getting near to the empty north coast of the island, where there was no cover, and eventually, nowhere else to run but into the sea. Also, B5 went danger zone at three, and in the event that he managed to escape with his life, he risked being penned in on the narrow peninsula, waiting for his collar to explode. However, that was unlikely. Bethany was gaining on him, tireless and fast, and she only needed to get so close before the bullets hit home.

Then, they did.

It didn't hurt, which surprised him. He felt a forceful thud to his left shoulder, knocking him sideways. Dave sprawled on his front on the ground and rolled, finding suddenly that his muscles had given up and he couldn't seem to regain his feet. He saw Bethany emerge from the trees and was certain that he was looking death in the face.

It's all over for me, he thought. As his killer approached, another face appeared unbidden in his mind, a laughing face with bright eyes and wheat-coloured hair. Nat, whatever you do, don't stop running, he thought. She had to survive.

Bethany jumped a stile and trotted up to Dave as he lay. The run had taken its toll on her too, and she was breathing hard, her t-shirt drenched with sweat. She shook out the empty clip from her Uzi and, in no particular hurry, rooted through her bag looking for another.

Perhaps he could try to bargain for his life. It was a long shot, but better than nothing.

"Wait," said Dave. "Please, don't. Don't kill me. I never did anything to you."

Bethany had not listened to pleas so far in the game – not that most of her victims had even had the time to plead – but here, she seemed to pause, her big hollow eyes resting on Dave.

Was it working? Well, reason had worked with Lauren Norris. Maybe even Bethany wasn't too far gone to listen.

"You don't have to do this," he said. "I know you, Beth... this isn't you."

She stared at him uncomprehendingly, then turned her attention away from Dave and shook her bag. Then she took everything out. Two water bottles, both with only a little left, unmarked map, Alex Green's compass, and the crumpled instruction leaflet for her gun.

"There's none left," said Bethany. "No more clips." Surprised, she looked around, realising that without clips her gun did not work, and she had no other weapons.

No weapons?

Dave scrambled away backwards, trying to use a rock to help him get to his feet. Bethany didn't seem to notice, so absorbed as she was in her private misfortune.

He stared at her for a moment. Skinny form swamped by an oversized school uniform, white-blonde unruly hair, look of utter confusion on her little heart-shaped face. And she'd killed so many of his friends.

At that moment, Dave was seized by a sudden violent urge to seize Bethany by the shoulders, shake the life from her, then crush her fragile neck, to tear her limb from limb, to utterly destroy her. Serial killer, he thought. And now unarmed. Hand-to-hand, he was sure he could take her down.

"Why aren't there any more?" she said sadly, and looked up at him, as if wanting to be told what to do.

She had killed his friends without mercy, chased him down without pity, and now she was out of ammunition and suddenly the advantage was with Dave...

...but he couldn't bring himself to touch her.

He leaned back on the rock. "That'd make me like you," he said, explaining his chain of thought out loud. "I can't do it. So, just... fuck off. Go somewhere else and don't bother me any more."

Bethany looked at him quizzically. Of course, she couldn't read his mind, so she had no idea how close he'd come to being violent against her.

"Go on, go," he said. "Go!"

Still staring at him with those big, confused eyes, she pushed her things back into her bag and wandered off, the empty Uzi trailing from its strap over her shoulder.

At that point, the gunshot wounds in his shoulder, which had previously been outside his notice, began to hurt. A lot. It was as if the floodgates had been opened, and suddenly his pain and anguish and exhaustion caught up with him, now he was, for the moment, out of danger. His body was too tired to keep them pushed down out of mind, and now the enormity of the events of the previous day all came crashing down on him at once.

"Shit," whispered Dave. Sagging against the rock, his head sank back, and he was aware of a perfect sky with high white clouds before the black edges of his vision closed in and he plunged into the darkness.

- Earlier -

"I can't..."

Natalie leaned against Dave, shaking as she gulped in deep breaths. She was reasonably fit, but had picked up a bad stitch in her side from the hard running and couldn't keep it up. Dave was already having to slow the pace to accommodate her, and he knew it was risky since Bethany was never far behind, and they were only just keeping out of range of her Uzi.

Natalie's designated weapon was six hand grenades, certainly useful, but only when thrown with accuracy. Bethany didn't need to be accurate. Likewise, Dave's crossbow was no match for a machine gun. In the end, he threw his weapon to run faster unencumbered.

They took advantage of a break in the gunfire to gain some ground. The path zigzagged down the mountain then forked, one path leading north towards the coast and the other turning back inland.

"Which way?" Natalie wanted to know. "This isn't on the maps..."

Dave looked down. He didn't have much time to think, but the idea had been in his mind since the attack on the mountain top.

"We'll split up. I'll try to get her to follow me, then I'll put a sprint on and lose her in the woods up here."

"But... you don't even have a weapon..." Natalie looked ashamed. "I was slowing you down, wasn't I?"

"No way. Look, we have to go. You get a head-start. Go south and try to get to the village, and I'll meet you here." He indicated a ruined church on the map, just east of the village. "If she goes after you, make the hand-grenades count."

"It's too dangerous." Natalie said, her throat tight with crying. She clung to Dave, knowing that he was right and staying together would most likely get them both killed, but wanting all the same to stay close to him.

"I'll be all right." Dave embraced Natalie, cradling her face between his hands. Natalie liked it, and hated herself for liking it, as she had a boyfriend back home who she was fairly serious about. "I can run pretty fast. I'll lose her, then I'll find you again, at the church. Go now!"

Tears stung her eyes as she ran down the woodland path in the opposite direction, tripping and stumbling over rocks. How could everything have gone so wrong? She thought, swiping tears from her face with the back of her hand. I don't even know half the people I thought I knew. James... just attacked Abigail, without even knowing... and Bethany... God, how many more?

And then there was Dave, with his warm hands and assurances and stupid fucking bravery. Why had she let him do it? Cowardly pathetic simple survival instinct. If Bethany killed him, it'd be her fault, and in her heart, she swore revenge. Not just on Bethany. On all the killers, all those who had played the game, all those who were making sure it played out just like it did every year, who wouldn't give their alternative a chance to succeed.

Please be okay, Dave. Please.

-

01/05/2019 – 15:21 – DAY 1 of BR2019UK – E2 (West coast, near the school)

-

The back of Will Dalton's map was rapidly filling up with his small, neat handwriting. He sat in a sunny clearing on the west slope of the mountain, copying out the repetitive sentences until his hand ached.

"I will kill Stephan Andropoulos.

I will kill Alicia Brown.

I will kill Dave Brunning.

I will kill Abigail Dawson.

I will kill..."

Will Dalton.

It was a testament to his jangled nervous state of mind, to be about to write his own name on his to-do list – not an unreasonable reaction to having felt machine-gun bullets thud into his Kevlar vest, inches from his vital organs. The exercise was supposed to calm him down and refocus his mind around the goals of the game. He had to play to win, but almost getting killed had nearly made him lose his nerve.

He continued. With something like pleasure, he wrote, "I HAVE killed Nina Haczynski," and "I HAVE killed Mahmoud Ibrahim". He'd carried Mahmoud's icepick around with him for a while, but eventually decided it was useless and threw it off a cliff. He much preferred to kill from a distance, and now he had his choice of guns – his original Luger pistol, clunky but solid and still with plenty of ammo, and the nice shotgun taken from the pudgy fingers of Lauren Norris...

"I will kill Dave Brunning." Will had seen him run off with Natalie, Bethany's bullets burning their heels. He had been expecting to hear all their names on the noon report, but somehow they'd managed to escape, and in all probability were hiding somewhere and fucking.

"I will kill Shabina Ghazali." Smart-arse who thought she was better than everyone. She worked as hard as he did – but she was naturally brilliant, so she didn't need to. Why do it then? To prove a point? Hadn't anyone ever told her you were supposed to be clever but lazy? He jabbed his pen hard into the dots of her name. He would take special pleasure in eliminating that one, wherever she was.

The rest of his classmates didn't mean much to him. There were allies and rivals and victims, no longer a threat to him so of no importance. Fifteen hours into the game, and the seventeen remaining contestants would be getting tired, hungry, perhaps losing their minds from the horrible things they had seen. Will had an edge. He'd looked death right in the face and passed the test. He could handle himself. And the beauty of the game was that kills were kind of cumulative. He'd killed, so he had more weapons and supplies – resources to increase his chances of killing again. With three bread rolls inside him and more for later, Will felt nourished and satisfied and generally quite pleased with his progress as he filled up the back of his map with the certain, satisfying words.

"Lauren Norris – Eliminated.

James Lewis – Eliminated.

I will kill Sophie Orr.

I will kill Sami Modha.

I will kill Zoe Peacock..."

Then, he wasn't alone.

First the snapping of twigs under careless feet, then a flash of movement in the thicket nearby. Someone was definitely there. You're never alone for long on this island – can't take your eye off the ball for a minute. Good thing he'd seen them first. He grabbed Lauren's shotgun and made ready to fire.

Someone jumped down from the wooded bank and into the clearing, about ten metres away from him. It was a girl. The remaining parts of her school uniform were punkishly modified, and her hair was a tangled mess of dyed split ends. She had a flick knife in her hand, but appeared disorientated, staggering a little as if drunk. She blinked, noticing at last the shotgun aimed at her head.

I will kill Abigail Dawson. He took aim and pulled the trigger.

She ducked suddenly, her whole body dropping almost to the ground, and his shot went wide. He pumped the shotgun to release the shell casing and rounded on her, but she evaded him, ducking below his gun, and plunged past him. She hurtled toward the west, branches catching at her flailing arms. Will fired after her, but the tree cover was too thick, and all he managed to hit was a cluster of leaves that fell in shreds, mocking him. Abigail's running footsteps faded into the distance. After a while, it was quiet again.

Will sat down. So much for relaxing: now he was hyped again. Jumpy. Failure. No, don't think about that, there's still plenty of time, it's not a failure, I'm still doing well. He picked up the paper and pencil once again, and began writing in a slow, deliberate hand:

"I will kill Stephan Andropoulos.

I will kill Alicia Brown..."

-

01/05/2019 – 15:25 – DAY 1 of BR2019UK – E4 (Central mountain summit)

-

They stopped when they saw the first body, that of Alex Green, sprawled where he fell, riddled with bullets. Then they carried on, coming across the others one by one. James Lewis, Lauren Norris and Paul Yates. The mountain was a picture of desolation and violent death. There had been a battle here – or a massacre.

"Too late," said Joe Wright.

There was really nothing else to say. Will and Bethany had been and gone. Natalie, Dave and Abigail had fled in different directions. The alliance was in tatters and four students lay dead in various places over the mountain.

Stephan's throat was dry. He had never seen a dead body before. He covered his face, not wanting to look at his friend Paul in that state.

"It's OK to cry," said Joe.

"Crying's not going to fucking help anything, is it," Stephan hissed, but the tightness in his throat was making it difficult to speak. Paul was dead. They'd had some good times, him and Paul. Alex Green, too – everybody liked him. He was a nice guy. Had been. Joe leaned against him and Stephan realised that he wanted to hold somebody, anybody would do. He was a very physical person and couldn't be comforted with words. Joe fell into his arms sobbing and Stephan clung to him.

A minute later they parted. Stephan realised they were on live TV and he had his reputation to think about, and Joe realised that he was in a passionate embrace with the class Casanova.

"What are we going to do, then?" Joe said, after a long moment.

"I think..." began Stephan, but never got to finish the sentence. They were under attack.

Someone elbowed Stephan in the back, then followed it up with a hard kick to the stomach. A hand snatched his revolver as it tumbled from his belt before he could grab it. Winded, Stephan tumbled to the ground, while the assailant sprang away from him and advanced on Joe, brandishing a baseball bat.

Joe cried out as the attacker grabbed his hair, forcing his head back with the bat. Joe felt the unpleasant, weirdly cold sensation of the revolver being pressed to his chin.

"Move and you're dead," said the one holding him.

Joe thought he already was. The fact that he was still able to think things suggested that the attacker hadn't intended to kill him – at least, not immediately.

Stephan struggled up onto hands and knees, trying to regain his composure. He recognised him, and almost winded himself again in alarm. He had straight black hair pulled back in a pony-tail, a heavy, strong face to match his lean athletic body, and the expression of vague amusement as if his mind was always somewhere else.

"Sami?" croaked Stephan finally.

Sami Modha (Boy 9), mathematician and martial arts extraordinaire, turned back towards him, bringing Joe round with the revolver at his neck. "Hi," he said. "Um. Well, this is a bit of a bad situation, isn't it?"'

-

7 eliminated, 17 to go…