January 16th 11:28
The house in which Serena Wells (Girl #20) was hiding, accompanied by her boyfriend Andrew King (Boy #13), boasted a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean. It was almost peaceful for Andrew as he gazed out of the dirty kitchen window beneath the net curtains. He could almost make out another island several miles in the distance. Of course, at the moment the sky was filled with thick rolling clouds.
Cumulonimbus? Yeah, the Geography lesson…
It was more of a cosy kitchenette than a kitchen. Andrew was sitting at the tiny circular table which was covered by a dusky pink tablecloth, holding the hilt of his sword. It was a real sword, too- the kind that could be used in fencing. The hilt was intricately designed and probably impractical, while the blade was a slender and flexible. Nevertheless, it did little to comfort Andrew, the sweat beads falling down his face. His eyes remained fixed on the red pot of pine and heather which functioned as the centrepiece of the table. He was perching nervously on the edge of the wooden stool, and jumped ever so slightly when he heard a sharp intake of air behind him. Serena was standing a metre or so away at the bench, carefully poring a bottle of water into the kettle. Her dark brown hair covered her face, so Andrew couldn't see, but he could tell she was crying.
'S-Serena? Is something the matter?' he asked tentatively. His full lips (he didn't like this feature of his face- though many girls were envious) remained parted, as though ready to respond to the inevitable.
Sure enough, as she pushed the plug of the kettle into the socket, Serena turned to face Andrew, her eyebrows raised. She curled her mouth into a mocking sneer.
'No, nothing at- at- all. This is probably my last day alive, but...you know, I d-don't care or anything.' Her attempt at sarcasm was marred somewhat by the sobbing, and she knew it. She picked up a dishcloth and wiped her face, before slouching over to the table to sit opposite Andrew. To avoid looking directly at him, Serena placed her elbows on the table and her palms on her cheeks. When she spread her long, pianist's fingers out, she covered most of her face.
Andrew had always been submissive to Serena, even before they started going out. Their relationship was rather childish, actually. The two rarely saw each other outside of school, and they hadn't even kissed yet. However, since the only other current pairings in the class involved Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10) and Janine Carter (Girl #3), both of whom were considered so trampy and unpopular that nobody cared, Andrew and Serena's was the only relationship taken seriously by their peers. They had only started 'dating' because they ran in the same crowds, and it seemed like the proper thing to do- everyone else seemed to be, ahem, trying this sort of thing.
'Well…' Andrew began, 'at least you get to spend it with me. That must compensate, right?'
Serena lowered her hands and laughed. 'Yeah, I suppose you're right. What more can a girl ask for than for you to protect her?' She was only joking, but it was too kind to be sarcastic.
Andrew sniggered too. He would certainly do his best to defend Serena in a crisis, but a knight in shining armour he wasn't. He was of fairly average height and not exactly muscle-bound. He was also squeamish; therefore…he might even pass out if he saw any blood.
'It's nice here. I almost forgot that- there are people dying all around us, and that we could be next.' Serena was of course referring to the cottage, and the surrounding area. The cottage itself was devoid of life when Andrew had found it, but unlike most of the other houses on the island (though Andrew didn't know this), this one must have been abandoned very abruptly indeed, for it was still equipped for inhabitants. The kitchenette formed part of the living room, and, though there was a narrow passageway, it only led to a bedroom and a bathroom. It was, externally, little more than a shack (in fact there were several similar in the vicinity) but every single room was furnished tidily. At first, Andrew had assumed it to be a holiday home, but this notion was dispelled by a photograph he noticed on the bedside cabinet. It was of a small girl, set in a gilded frame. On closer examination, Andrew had found clothes, books and other personal items stored away in the closet and drawers. Whoever lived here had been a neat freak.
Andrew really, really hadn't cared less when he had first arrived. He wasn't one of the first to be released, but at least two-thirds of the class remained in that room when his name was called. Last night had been something of a blur to him, and he could barely remember what he had been told of the game rules. He was smart enough to know how to read a map and compass, so all he needed to know about was the danger zones, which were announced periodically.
In fact… there should be one coming up soon…
He had needed to hide in a house. He just couldn't bear the thought of running around in the woods waiting to be attacked. So, he wandered north until he'd stumbled across this place, hidden by thick trees, but easily visible from below. Climbing steady he arrived at the flat, rocky trail that led up to the building. He noticed that the 'road' had tyre tracks leading up to it, and expected some kind of agricultural field to be nearby, but of course there was none. When he had cautiously crossed over to the cottage, there were no vehicles in sight. Though this was naturally of no concern to him at this point
He broke in by forcing the bedroom window open. The door was locked and Andrew didn't want to break it down. The window was an old-fashioned type which opened outwards on a latch. The frame was so old and in such dire need of being repainted that Andrew was able to jimmy the window open by poking away at the tiny crack until enough wood came away for him to simply be able to slide his sword through the gap, push upwards and force the latch. He wasn't sure whether or not he'd broken it, but he gathered up the splinters and threw them into the grass.
From then on, he'd simply waited. There was nothing else he could have done. After performing a cursory check of the building, he'd found a comfortable place to rest. Crouching in the corner of the bedroom, he'd cried a few times, and had remained in that position for several hours,. There was no need to worry about losing energy- the house was still full of food. He had swallowed several coffee granules to keep himself alert. 6AM came around. He'd heard the gunshots, obviously, but was still shocked when the names had been read out. So there ARE killers out there…
He only remembered Serena when her name was not announced on the list of the deceased. He'd felt ashamed for this, but the two of them weren't close enough to make meeting up a given. Andrew reasoned that she was probably with her friends. Andrew hadn't waited for any of his own. Joshua Johnson (Boy #11) was the presumptive leader of the clique, since he was the only one the group all seemed to respect. Joshua had left before Andrew, but Andrew wouldn't have trusted him, especially if he'd had a notably lethal weapon, so was glad Josh hadn't hidden outside the hall. Josh may have seemed charismatic, but he had a ferocious temper and was not to be trifled with.
Still alive, maybe he's one of the murderers?
'Andrew?'
'Yes?'
'Nothing. I'm just glad that I found you.' Serena smiled; she looked so much prettier when she did that. Serena had an aquiline nose and heavily-lidded dull grey eyes, so she looked rather stern otherwise. She hadn't had a lot of trouble finding Andrew, but she hadn't actually been looking for him. She'd left the hall fearfully, but expecting to be greeted by Zoe Wakefield (Girl #19) and maybe some other girls, but nobody was there. Serena was braver than Andrew, so had not needed to immediately find a house for comfort. Even though she had a crummy weapon (a can of mace) she had tried unsuccessfully to think of a way out of her predicament while on the move. She had only seen two people. Daniel Oliver (Boy #16) was a cute and friendly boy and he was accompanied by the mysterious Francesca Simons (Girl #16), who Serena thought was rather unsociable. She let them pass by without seeing her (this was only an hour after she began the game, in the woods). There was no point looking for anyone in particular- she'd run across them eventually. If they died however…well, she wouldn't have to be present. After several hours and hearing the first announcement, she had eventually encountered the cottage in which Andrew was hiding, fairly high up the mountain. She didn't know what drew her to it. It may have been instinct, or it may have been sheer frustration and a desire for warmth. She hadn't known then that Andrew was hiding there; she hadn't even seen the bedroom window, having come to the cottage from the north. She'd hoped that there'd be a spare key hidden somewhere near the front (and only) door, but to her disappointment there was none. Realising she could probably be seen from the south at a considerable radius, Serena then lost her nerve, gathered up her bag and prepared to find somewhere else when-
'Serena!' Andrew's loud 'whisper' came from the living room window behind her. She leapt around; clutching her heart upon seeing the boy leaning out across the windowsill…and the rest was a five-hour history.
They hadn't spoken about the game at all. Andrew had just assured Serena that all the windows were locked and that he hadn't switched on any of the lights since he had arrived. Serena had told Andrew what she had been doing before she got here and that was that. He trusted her story- he didn't see how she could have killed anyone, even if she'd wanted to. It was unspoken between them, but neither really wanted to leave the cottage. Romance was the last thing on either person's mind right now, but they could forget that while they were here…others were…Andrew and Serena didn't really want to think about their friends being murdered, so nobody else was brought up in conversation.
'The kettle's boiled.' Serena announced pointlessly, as Andrew's body jerked at the hissing noise, while the steam began crawling up the tiled wall.
Serena left Andrew sitting at the table, and wandered across the room. She took a spoon and sprinkled the coffee into two mugs before pouring out the water. It was of no decent quality, but it would do.
'Thanks.' Andrew took his mug from her and brought it to his nostrils, inhaling the heavenly scent. It calmed him down somewhat, and he gratefully took a sip.
'What are you doing?' Serena remarked in amazement. Her eyebrows had risen behind her fringe again.
'What? Oh, my mouth isn't very sensitive.' He realised that she was referring to his apparent ability to comfortably drink boiling water.
'D'you wanna test out that theory?' It had slipped out of Serena's mouth before she could stop it.
Andrew actually spluttered as his coffee went down his throat. He sprayed it across the table and, unfortunately, onto Serena's blouse. She merely laughed.
'Ah, sorry! What do you mean?' Andrew cleared his throat, his eyes wide.
Serena felt a little foolish, but now that she'd said it, she might as well elaborate. 'It's just that we…I know at our age it should really have progressed to…it by now-if we were hardcore- but…' She was blushing! That didn't happen often at all.
Andrew stood up in anticipation, and reached out his hand. She looked sceptical.
'Er…you're not leading me to the bedroom, you know. I'm not that easy.'
'No, I wasn't thinking that! But just…' Andrew instead opened his arms to receive her in a hug. His arms were, Serena noticed, trembling.
You are so adorable! Wimpy, but still, very sweet. She didn't say this out loud; now was not the time. It wasn't time to be kissing either, but to hell with that.
She smiled awkwardly, and rose to move closer to him. She quickly rolled up the sleeve of her brown jacket, and slid a hair bobble off her wrist. She tied her hair back out of the way. Robotically, she put her hands in front of her, and took a step forward. She felt faintly pathetic that cuddling her own boyfriend brought on so many butterflies.
Though Dad would be delighted. What's he doing now…?
The two were almost touching. Each felt a flurry of nerves in their chests, not vastly different to the anxiety of 'competing' in Survivor. It was equally intense, but in a completely different way. The feeling was a bit much for Andrew to take, so much so that he considered backing out, but thankfully never got the chance. It would have been fulfilling to have just one tender moment, but alas….
CRASH!! The slamming noise came from the hallway, followed by a roaring of thunder. Serena couldn't help but feel slightly…disappointed, amid the fear welling up inside her.
'YAH-!' Serena pushed her hand into Andrew's mouth (pity it wasn't her tongue) and brought him to the floor, both of them holding a breath. She crawled back slightly, as though the tabletop would be effective in shielding her. Looking at Andrew's face, Serena could tell that he was struggling not to whine in misery.
The wooden door that opened onto the hall was closed, and it was the only way out of the room. Leaving by that route would be out of the question.
Sweating, Serena realised she had to think quickly. Andrew was just as clever as she was, but evidently logic would have escaped him. Serena Wells could be quite the strategist, unlike Andrew-whose strongest subjects were food and design technology (Mickey Mouse subjects as far as Serena and other non-creative boffins were concerned); she had always been gifted at maths and science. Her friends may have considered her a bit of a…as if she should be more mature and cool, but she admitted to enjoying doing Sudokus and stuff. She had to believe that her quick wits would save her now.
The front door must have been kicked down, yet she heard no footsteps in the hallway. The room remained absolutely still, but anyone could burst in at any second…they'd both been stupid remaining here for so long…perhaps.
Serena concentrated every last fibre of her being, forcing herself to think rationally, as if this was all just pretend. It was possible that whoever had broken in had simply found nothing and left. This was unlikely: why break into a house and not even check around? On top of that, the storm was still raging, so nobody should be in a wooded area with a possibility of lightning…on the other hand; common sense was not quite so ubiquitous among 10M even in normal circumstances.
Whoever it was must be waiting for her to make a move. He'd be waiting right outside the front door, alone. If he (or she) was a threat, then they wouldn't be part of a group. It made no sense to play the game with another person. She looked up at the window, desperately. This train of thought lasted about a second.
'S-Serena…'
'Grab the sword,' the whisper was barely audible 'we're going out there.' She pointed upwards. Nobody dangerous could be out there. Anyone with an ill will would have checked the windows, and even if Serena and Andrew couldn't be clearly seen due to the darkness, and the soaked window, the steaming coffee cups would be a dead giveaway. Besides, she would have heard footsteps in the mud outside the window…wouldn't she?
She made to stand up, slowly. Suddenly, Andrew latched onto her arm and pulled himself up slightly. He stretched out his neck and kissed her, on the cheek.
'I-'
'It's OK,' she responded, flushing faintly, 'Thank you.'
The daypacks had been kept at an arm's length at all times. Serena reached out for hers. She'd have to leap down and run as soon as she exited the window, regardless of the pursuer's identity. The kitchen window was on the opposite side of the house to the front door. As quickly as she could, Serena stepped onto the table, realising that she would have the best chance of escaping if she went first. Andrew may have understood this too.
Her nerves steadied slightly. Casting a brief glance outside, she saw no movement other than the torrential rain. It might be safe…but it might not. Andrew motioned to her to go. He was shaking now, so he was probably fighting his own instincts to crouch hidden under the bed. Serena smiled briefly at him. She certainly was not in love with Andrew, but…she did like him a lot more than she'd previously thought.
It was time for action. Serena undid the latch, swinging the window wide open. Wind started howling in the room, accompanied by the heavy droplets of rain. Opening the window was more difficult than she'd anticipated, since she still held the mace…
Shit!
She'd left the butter knife, which she'd planned on carrying with her, on the kitchen bench. She couldn't grab it now, goddamn it. It was too late, the window was already open. She tossed her bag out a millisecond before she jumped out, finding herself ankle-deep in mud, and already drenched. She could hear Andrew's bag hit the ground behind her. She turned right and began running; Andrew would soon catch up to her.
Her blood ran cold when she saw, just to her right, a tall figure standing a few metres away, on a sloping area of the woodland. Serena couldn't see exactly who it was, as the person was hidden in the shadow of the trees. Still running, but now feeling sick, Serena was eventually able to tell, as the figure moved closer towards her, raising its right arm…that it was a girl. The thought of turning around did not occur to her, but it would have made little difference anyway.
'Andr-!'
The Walther P99 was fired, the golden shell flying out. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly at Serena's head, and the bullet found itself lodged in the left side of her skull. Pieces of her brain rained out and into the grass. Serena fell to the ground. Of course she had died instantly. Blood immediately began covering her face as it trickled down from the top of her head.
Andrew was right behind her, clambering out of the open window. From the moment Serena had almost screamed his name, only a second or so ago, the world had stopped. He didn't feel anything immediately, just emptiness as he looked at her destroyed head, the rain cruelly bearing down on her. He blinked several times, and he didn't even hear the deranged cry coming from behind him, as another boy scurried from the area facing the front of the house. It was all happening, but it wasn't, not to Andrew.
'Ha! It looks like the ball's in Venus' court now!'
Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) probably expected some sort of furious reaction but that wasn't what he got. Andrew dropped to his knees and remained frozen in place. His backpack slid off his shoulder and into the mud. It felt as though he was watching it all on T.V., so there was nothing to respond to.
Michelle Ashanti (Girl #1) obviously sensed that Andrew was no threat. She emerged from her stalking place like a successful poacher, and moved down the slippery mound towards him. Her entire body was waterlogged; her hair stuck to her face and neck.
Andrew didn't bother looking up at her, but if he had, he might have noticed a tear falling down her cheek. He couldn't have attacked her; he'd dropped the sword. Now, a tear ran down his cheek.
Michelle may have spotted this. 'I'm sorry, Andrew.'
The gun was only inches away from his forehead. Andrew still made no attempt to move; he couldn't bear to look at Serena in the state she was in.
It'll be over soon.
BANG!
A hole, larger than the deep crater on Serena's crown, appeared in Andrew's forehead. The area from his left eyebrow up to his temple had been completely blown away. The expression on his face otherwise remained the same. His body had hit a dryer patch, so the blood would quickly cover the surrounding area. If anyone were to come across his body, then they'd think he hadn't seen it coming. Or if he had, he hadn't cared. This wasn't such a bad legacy to leave; Andrew's reputation as a weakling would cease to be.
11:42
'SHIT!'
Michelle Ashanti leapt backwards in disgust as Andrew King's blood, brains and god-knows-what-else splattered onto her clothing. Peter Mortimer sniggered to her right, sharply stopping when Michelle aimed the gun at him. About a second later, he erupted in laughter again: having the gun pointed at his chest had become something of a cliché in the hour that he'd spent as Michelle's captive.
Michelle lowered the gun, realising how ridiculous she must look. She wore a baby blue zip-up cardigan, so now that it was covered in blood stains, she would look like…like…
A crazy serial killer.
She stood in silence for a moment, her eyes fixed on the two bodies at her feet. Conflicting emotions stirred up inside her. She knew that she had just murdered two people in cold blood but…her chances of surviving had increased; that was the objective after all.
Michelle Ashanti had to win Survivor. Reason told her that there was no point dithering about worrying about morality. Only one person got out of here alive, and, if all went to plan, it would be her. Michelle had always been a star athlete; she could hold her own against any boy, even having a height advantage over the majority of them. She had no desire to play sports professionally, given just how competitive the U.K had become. Her real plans for the future involved her going to University and studying to be a lawyer. A standard ambition, albeit one which ended for most children when they hit about 13 or younger. For her, it could well happen. Hell, she wouldn't even have missed any schooling. Then there were her parents. She owed it to them to return home. She longed to simply be told "I'll never let you out of my sight again!" by her mother, as she'd said when Michelle had gotten lost on a day trip to York when she'd been about seven or eight. A lifetime ago.
Peter spoke up.' I've got to hand it to ya, Venus, flushin' em out like that was a pretty good plan.'
Peter and Michelle had just happened to be in the area when the latter noticed the trail leading up to the house. Unbelievably, Serena Wells had been standing at one of the windows, as if she'd wanted to be seen.
Some brainbox she was.
It had been easy for Michelle to climb up onto the tall mount (conveniently peppered with shrubs and smaller trees) from where she could view each side of the building. She'd had Peter break the door down and hide in a nearby spot where Michelle could see him at all times. She knew that she could have just started hurling rocks at the place, but she thought correctly that a broken door would cause Serena more anguish. It had been surprising that Andrew was with her, but then again they were going out. If Michelle had been thinking clearly she'd have realised that Peter could have run off when she descended to finish Andrew off. Luckily for her, Peter was too stupid. Although, Peter not being near her was an entertaining prospect. He moved nearer to Andrew's body, stooping over to pick up the sword that had been dropped.
'Can I have this?' he asked hopefully, widening his eyes in a horrible interpretation of innocence.
'No,' Michelle snapped out of her trance, surprised that she'd let Peter get so close to picking up the weapon, 'I'll take it. You go through the bags and take some of their bread and water.' She looked at her watch. 'Damn it, it's nearly time for the announcement.'
'Already? Time flies…' Peter was narked that Michelle hadn't trusted him with the sword, as if he'd thought she ever would. He picked up Andrew's bag, and tossed it through the open window into the kitchen. It landed on the table, causing the cups of coffee to crash onto the floor.
'What-?'
'We might as well stay here,' Peter replied, knowing what Michelle was thinking. 'If we stay outside, the paper'll get wet when we mark the zones down.'
Michelle shrugged. It made sense, but only for a short while. The gunshots would probably attract people but…if anyone came running then she'd just have to kill them too.
'Scared that someone'll know what you did?' Peter sneered, putting one foot on the window ledge, making to climb through.
Michelle's face darkened. Peter had struck a nerve. It was true that she didn't want to be known as a psycho, but it was the way he'd said it. He obviously didn't believe that she gave a damn about Andrew or Serena. Not many people in school actually liked her, particularly since she'd become a 'chav' in the eyes of her classmates since she's started hanging out with Janine Carter (Girl #3). She was also pissed off that he'd witnessed her kill off two classmates and wasn't any more frightened of her. 'Fuck you! I-'
'You what?'
Peter waited, his lips curling even further as he saw that Michelle just didn't have an answer to that. She pursed her lips, picked up the sword (she'd stashed her whip for the time being) and followed Peter inside.
11:49: Surviving Contestants: 31
