As the second day of the Battle Royale dawned over Cuna Cielo, several things were certain. Friends would betray friends, families would betray families, and lovers would betray lovers. In just twenty-four hours, a high school class had become a de-humanized jungle where no rules remained. Some would use the rule-free game as an opportunity to kill, others would rebel against it, but most of them would just run to survive. If there was one thing that made sense on Cuna Cielo, it was to run. Run, don't trust, and don't stop. It was exactly what the government wanted them to do, and unfortunately, it was turning out to be one of the only tactic that worked. That was what the second day meant to the twenty-nine remaining competitors.

And for the four captives in the bog, it meant something else: escape.

"This is a bad idea", Preston Tracy (Boy #18) said. "This is a really bad idea".

The boy sat hugging in his knees beside the muskeg tree. The night was cool. For some reason, this struck the captives as odd. Almost expecting a grand entrance into the second day, it was strange to only get the sound of the wind whistling through the forest as a response. The world should have been ending.

"Chill man", Zane Barrens (Boy #1) said in a hushed voice. "This isn't a bad idea. It's a good one, and it's going to end up saving all of us if we all just put some faith in it. Nobody's going to get hurt".

The four captives were circled around the sunken-in tree. Preston's back was to the rest of the group, almost frightened that staring into their eyes was a guaranteed death sentence. Eddie, his bloody nose concaved on his face, sat staring at the bog with blank eyes. Roxy was still tied up around the tree with Eddie's football jersey while Eddie himself, who had recently sat down beside them looking frightened out of his mind, sat next to her. Not having any bindings whatsoever to keep him from leaving the bog, the others wondered what was stopping him from just making a run for it. Zane's slowly deteriorating duct tape cocoon was still wrapped around him though. Although the water levels of the bog had wetted and ripped the tape enough for him to force a free arm out, it hadn't improved much. He could still hardly move a muscle.

"Nobody's going to get hurt, huh Zane?" Preston retorted. "Everyone remembers the last time people put faith in you, y'know. People didn't just get hurt".

Zane glared. "I'm gotten more than enough shit about what happened at the riot this summer than I'll need for the rest of my life. I don't want to spend the last two days thinking about something that's better off forgotten".

"Yeah", the mascot scoffed. "and if something goes wrong here, I guess that's better off forgotten too, right?"

"There's no way you can be thinking of pussying out now", Zane said coldly. "You said you were in on taking him down from the very beginning".

"Yeah well, I'm iffy about it now. What's this going to accomplish besides more bodies?"

"It's going to get us out of here", a new voice said.

The two boys turned to face Roxy Patterson (Girl #12). Appearing almost catatonic since the Rory incident, she'd mostly remained silent and only nodded briefly during the discussion of their plan. Considering how visibly shaken up she was, it shocked the two boys that she'd suddenly spoke.

"Chris is falling apart", she said. "If we get him at the right moment, we could take him down. I don't know much of anything anymore, but if there's one thing I'm willing to die for, it's getting us the hell out. We'll decide what to do after that".

"He's two heads bigger than all of us though", Preston practically wailed. "I mean, have you guys even seen him in the weight room back at school? He's a fucking animal. There's no way we can take him down!"

"But we can take him down", Roxy said curtly. "He may have the brawn, but there's no way he's going to have the brains to see this coming. And we all have to have faith in this thing if it's going to work. That includes you Preston".

Preston bit his lip but didn't say anything. Hugging his knees, he shuddered and looked away from the other captives and didn't say anything. Having a negative thing to say about almost everything they'd discussed, Zane knew he was only half-heartedly putting up with their plan because it had the chance of saving his own life. This is your chance though, man. Get everyone the fuck out of here and give Chris his karma. Think about what he did to Rory. You can do this. All of us can do it. Just don't mess anything up again.

Glancing to the other side of the bog, Zane surveyed their captor. Sitting as a ghostly silhouette in the moonlight, Chris Barrister (Boy #2) methodically polished the sniper rifle over and over again. The fact that he was staring at them was sort of unnerving, but compared to the fact of who the newest hostage in the bog was, the quarterback's stare was lovely to handle. Sitting cross-legged in the dirt beside him, Jude Mercedes (Boy #11) seemed to be staring too. Not to anywhere in particular though. That was something that Zane had noticed about Jude's eyes. Overcast blue headlights that seemed like black holes, it was always impossible to see where they were looking. They always seemed to be observing everything around them, taking in everything like a mental notebook. Although Zane would never admit it, Jude was easily one of the few people in Spanish Rivers High School that frightened him.

Aware of the fact that someone was staring at him, Jude suddenly turned and grinned at him with his perfectly white teeth. Feeling chills go down his spine, Zane shivered and turned away as quickly as he could. Even when he did, he still had the feeling that the boy's eyes were burning right into him.

"He's nuts", he thought. "there's no way him coming here was an accident. He's here for a reason. He's here to watch this whole thing like a damn show until it gets interesting. Chris only kept him over there with him because he's scared of anyone else turning against him, anyway. Just don't think about it, man".

Not wanting to think about Jude anymore, Zane forced his mind back to the matter at hand: their escape. Turning back to the others who seemed confused at how he suddenly become so quiet, he couldn't even force himself to smile back at them. Even if he was the one leading it, he was terrified out of his mind.

"We're making a difference here", he found himself announcing. It could have been the annoying habit that he always tended to get melodramatic when it came to things he felt strongly for, but something had to be said. "You might think that we're not going anything here more important than just saving our own asses, but there's more to it than that. The government that put us here keeps control of us by drilling it into our heads that we're too weak to fight back. That's the same thing that Chris has been doing since we got into this fucking bog. He's been keeping us here and waiting for us to die so he doesn't have to do the dirty work himself. This isn't just our way of getting back at over there. It's our own way of showing those fuckers who sent us here that just because they tell us that we're weak, there's no way they're making us think their way".

Shaking his hair out of his eyes, Zane took in a deep breath and held a bloody hand out toward the center of their circle.

"Well, put your hand in when you're ready".

With a weak smile, Roxy reached out and cupped her hand over his. As expected by the others, Preston was more than reluctant to do so. Glancing at them with weary eyes, he finally sighed and put his hand over theirs. Only one remained. Everyone's eyes turned to the linebacker for the Spanish Rivers Sultans who now had only a ghost of a nose on his face. Silent ever since he had arrived at their discussion, he looked up at them with frightened eyes.

"Eddie?" Zane asked. 'Are you in?"

"No", the linebacker said suddenly. "No, Chris is gonna hurt me!"

It came as a surprise to everyone. Shaking his head and making a strange whining sound, the muscular boy scrambled up from the ground and gave one last frantic look at them before running away. Dashing to the other side of the bog, he sat down on a stump jutting out of the ground and rested his face in his hands. It was impossible for them to tell if he was crying or not.

Roxy stared. "Did he change his mind or something?"

"It doesn't matter", Zane sighed. "He'll come when he's ready. When we get out of here, it's going to be together".

Roxy did her best to smile at the boy, but in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but feel like they should have already been digging their graves.

"They're turning against me, y'know", Chris said as he polished the sniper rifle. "Trying to start some kind of bullshit rebellion. I see them though. They think I don't but I do".

Jude nodded and eyed the boy without much interest. To anyone who knew Chris at school, they would have been overwhelmed with shock at how different he looked now. Handsome, blonde and athletic, he'd walked through the halls with a look of familiarity like he knew exactly where he was going in life. A known ladies man and even more of a known football star; he'd been the self-proclaimed king of the freshman class. In his mind, everyone wanted to be him. In everyone else's mind, it was best not to cross him. The fact that almost all of his brothers had graduated with sports scholarships to various colleges only gave the boy more to brag about, and coupled with the fact that he came from one of the wealthiest families in town, he had it made.

And now in the Battle Royale, Chris Barrister (Boy #2) looked like hell. His shoulder-length blonde hair was runny with dirt and sweat and his eyes seemed aged, almost like he'd seen too much for someone his age. Every so often he would jump at the sound of a cricket chirping, looking in every direction with a frightened look on his face. In almost every sense, he was falling apart.

"I'm sure they don't", Jude said. "You obviously know what you're doing around here".

"Shut up!" Chris snarled. "I told you not to talk! You're damned lucky I'm even letting you live! You know I'm just letting you stay here because I don't want anyone else in that faggots anonymous meeting over there".

Jude glanced over across the bog at the other three captives huddled in a circle in deep discussion. They would be the hardest of the lot to break down, but in due time, they would be falling apart just as much as the rest of them. He couldn't get ahead of himself though. No, right now, he needed to concentrate on his first task.

"I saw your last game down at Ridgedale", Jude said. "You made a good touchdown in the last few minutes".

"We're undefeated", Chris responded. He didn't glance up from polishing the rifle. "Four years. It's going to be five once I win this game and go back to school".

Jude smiled. "You're pretty full of yourself, aren't you?"

"Not really. I just know for a fact that I'm going to win. I mean, sure, I didn't get a great weapon to start out with, but I have this rifle now. After I fuck up everyone in the bog here, I'll move out and dominate the whole island.

"I know you're all an act, Chris", Jude said coldly.

"You know, you're just asking to get your brains blown out, Mercedes. Don't you see that I have a gun?"

"That I do. But I also see a lot of other things about you. Things that you thought no one else would ever find out. Why don't we talk about them?"

The quarterback rolled his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, I already know that you're an active steroids user from your file, so we could start from there".

Chris looked like his blood had ran cold. Glancing around worriedly like taking drugs actually mattered in the game, his eyes narrowed back to Jude. He was still polishing the rifle, but much slower now, almost like he was trying to comfort himself.

"You don't know shit about me!" the boy roared.

"I know much more than you think. From your file, I can gather that you have some problems at home too. Care to talk about that?'

Chris's anger seemed to melt. Biting his lip, he stared into space for a second like he was lost in his thoughts. Then, taking in a deep breath, he turned back to Jude.

"I used to work out at the football field in the morning", he began. "I live near the school so I could always get up early and walk there with my old man. He coaches varsity so he had the keys to the equipment shed. It was the same exercises every single time. He would take out all of these rubber tires and lay them out on the ground. I'd run through them….and run back. Over and over again".

"It must have been hard", Jude commented.

"More than you think. I've ran so many tires. I think I've stepped through fuckers more times than I've actually had my dad hug me. I wouldn't always get through all of them though. After a while, I'd get tired. That was the worst part. If I missed one tire, just one goddamned tire, he would take me aside and put his hand on my shoulder".

Chris's lip was trembling. His repetitive polishing of the sniper rifle had slowed and slowed to the point where he had stopped altogether. Glancing into the hurt and worried eyes, it almost looked to Jude that the boy known to Spanish Rivers High School was dead. Boy #2, an entirely different entity, had been born the moment the game started.

"I have problems with my own father", Jude said quietly. "Did he hit you?"

"No", Chris sighed. "No, he always said he was against hitting kids. He would tell me how I'm never going to amount to anything. He would say that I'll spend the rest of my life working in a cubicle instead of playing football in the big leagues with the real patriots. He'd say that sports are the only thing I can do right, and if I fuck that up, he's not going to help me out if I mess up my own life too. And then he would lean in really close and he'd say…he'd say that I'm never going to amount to anything. I won't ever be a winner".

Chris glanced down at his muscular arms with weary eyes. Jude had never noticed before, but there seemed to be a strange deformity to them near his shoulders.

"Steroids aren't fun, Jude", the boy said softly. "Especially when you start taking them when you're only a fucking freshman. You keep thinking that they'll turn you into a winner, but in the end, all they do is shrink your balls and make you feel even worse. I hate my dad. I hate football. And I hate the fucking Spanish Rivers Sultans".

"But you're at the top of the state", Jude said. "you've had that winning streak for four years now, haven't you?"

"I don't give a shit about our winning streak!' Chris howled. He was at the verge of tears now. "I don't want to play football anymore! I'm so tired of all of this! Whenever I walk out anywhere, I feel like I have to win! After awhile, everything just turns into a big competition!

"Life is a competition though", Jude cut in. "you can't forget that".

The quarterback looked confused. "What do you mean?'

"Chris, this is the time where the real American patriots are made. Think about everything your dad ever told you about winning. What do the weak contribute to society? Nothing. While you're out stepping through tires and working your ass off, they're just sitting there and getting everything handed to them. It's all like you said. A gene pool. And the Battle Royale is your opportunity to finally clean it out for good".

"But I'm tired of fighting", Chris said. "Sometimes I just want to die out here…"

"Don't talk like that. Imagine what your dad is thinking at home. Imagine what all of your brothers are thinking. They're all tuning in and watching you. You're the star now. They're all watching you, waiting for the chance to see you fuck up. This is the one opportunity you're going to have to prove all of them wrong, Chris. You're a winner. Think about how hard they must have cheered for your when you killed Rory".

"My dad watches the program every year with his sports buddies from the bar uptown", Chris remembered suddenly. "They all come down to my house and have a marathon for the whole three days".

"And they're all cheering for you", Jude said with a grin. "This is your chance to prove to your father that the weak have no purpose. Show him that you're the king. Blow everyone all over this island to bits and make all of your old man's philosophies come true. Clean out the gene pool".

There was an eerie silence when Jude finished. After appearing in deep thought for a moment, Chris only responded with a nod. Looking away again, he then sighed and checked the ammunition for his rifle. Jude hadn't put much effort into destroying his mind. Falling apart even before his arrival into the bog, Chris's mind had been very simple to shatter and leave him only with the tunnel-vision of winning.

Turning away from his newest victim, Jude peered out into the foliage beside the bog. The boy with the Glock 17 in his hands was still crouched in the bushes. The boy's mouth kept opening over and over again, but for some reason, no sounds were coming out.

"Thank you very much", Jude said quietly.

Darren didn't say anything. Not having any time for him, Jude looked away prided himself at letting the first cog in the group's demise fall into play. By saying virtually nothing at all, he'd sculpted the boy's mind like clay. He couldn't gloat for long though. After all, there was still the second cog. He turned his attention to the boy sitting on the stump.

The life of Eddie Dunnerman (Boy #4) had become a living hell. With his face a mess of coagulated blood and loose skin from his broken nose, he'd tried to convince himself that he'd survive. Becoming some kind of medical miracle, he would make it through the night despite the massive blood loss. Maybe he would gain the courage to simply walk over to Chris and bash his head in too. In fact, he'd even snuck a syringe from Chris's assigned first-aid kit, planning to stab him when he got the chance.

Admittedly though, like most things in Eddie's life, it was all just wishful thinking. You know you're going to die, man. You know we're all going to die. Why can't you just grow the balls to walk over there and beat the living shit out of him?

Hugging himself as he sat on one of the stumps jutting out of the bog, Eddie looked over at Chris. Things were different outside the battlefield. In fact, back at their high school, the frightened-looking boy polishing the sniper rifle had been his role model. Charismatic and able to walk through the halls like he owned the place, he was everything Eddie was not. Although he had always tried to be happy with whom he was he had always felt a sense of dissatisfaction at all of his flaws.

Eddie wasn't smart. In fact, the reason he hadn't been labeled mentally challenged was because his stubborn mother had never taken him to be checked out. She'd just kept telling him that while everyone else took things fast, Eddie took things slow. Slow and steady wins the race. That was what she'd always said. That wasn't his only flaw either. Along with being dumb, he was ugly. Pimply with an overbite and a poor attempt at cultivating early facial hair, he'd earned most of his dates from girls who were only using him to get noticed by Chris.

But he wasn't being taken advantage of. There was no way. Chris had always said that he had his back. In fact, in the many fights he'd gotten into at school for his brawn speaking instead of his brain, the quarterback had said that he wouldn't let anything bad happen. While everyone else viewed him as a mindless lackey, Eddie saw it simply as someone being nice to him.

So now, after going to hell and back and realizing what Chris's true intentions were, why couldn't he kill him?

Lost in his own thoughts, Eddie almost jumped out of his skin when he realized that someone had sat down beside him. Glancing up, he saw the observant face of Jude Mercedes (Boy #11) staring at him.

"How goes it, Dunnerman?"

"Bad", the boy said with a sniffle."I keep feeling like there's something crawling up my nose".

"You probably have an infection", Jude responded. "I don't think it'll be life-threatening anytime soon though. Chris is probably just trying to scare you. If it goes untreated, I would give you about a week".

"Are you sure?"

"My dad's a psychologist", Jude replied. "not a doctor. But I'm just trying to cheer you up a little. You look a bit down. What's wrong?"

Eddie glared. "What the hell do you think is wrong? I've been put in a fucking game where I've broken my nose, been left to die, learned that the one person I thought was my friend could give less of a shit about me, and you still have the nerve to ask what's wrong?"

"As the matter of fact I do", Jude said. "I just want to talk to you".

"About what?"

"Anything you want. You talk to me, I'll talk to you. We'll learn about eachother. How about we start with the subject that I think everyone in this bog wants to know?"

Eddie didn't seem to understand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what's obviously been plaguing you for almost your entire life. Why do you listen to Chris even if you know he could care less about anyone but himself?'

Shivering in the night, the boy looked down at the swampy, wet ground. No longer rocking back and forth, he looked at Jude with nervous eyes, almost like he was frightened of somebody listening in on them.

"I was always second", Eddie began with a sigh. "Not in school though. I was always last in that. I always came in second in the one thing I cared about: sports. No matter how hard I pushed myself in track, I just couldn't cross the finish line before the guy in the next lane broke through the ribbon. No matter how hard I pushed myself in football, I couldn't run fast enough to score the touchdown when the whole team was counting on me. I just kept asking myself why I wasn't winning. But do you know who could do all of that though? Do you know who could do every single one of those damned things and more?"

Jude smirked. "Who?"

"Who the hell do you think? Chris. He was always first in every sport we tried out for together. Just when I thought I was about to win, he beat me. I lived life as his fucking shadow just because he needed to make him look impressive. That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part was when I went to sleep at night, I realized that I didn't want to be Eddie Dunnerman anymore. I wanted to be Chris Barrister".

"Chris has his own share of problems", Jude said. "You definitely don't want to be him".

"But I do!" Eddie cried. "I want his life! I followed him everywhere, and he was so nice to me the whole time! I mean, I thought we were friends! He always said I was his friend! I had a purpose until this damn game started".

Eddie was sobbing now. Tears were dripping down his ruined face and mixing with the blood like runny paint. Glancing around quickly, Jude made sure nobody was watching. Chris was still sitting at the far end of the bog and polishing the sniper rifle, glancing at the captives of every few seconds. Zane, Roxy, and Preston were still in deep conversation, planning whatever they were planning. Good. It's all coming together. Everything's on the peak. It'll all come crashing down.

"Eddie", Jude said. "it doesn't matter if you're second or first on the island. What matters is the will you have to survive. Would you die sniffling in your own blood or would you go down fighting?"

"I'd…I'd go down fighting…"

"Exactly. You definitely have the will for that matter. So why don't I make a deal with you? We'll form an alliance. You and me will slaughter everyone in the bog. I'll turn them against each other and all you have to do is the dirty work. Bash their heads in and watch them squirm. After that, we'll leave and take the island by storm. By tomorrow, every sector in this game will be soaked with blood".

"What happens after that?" Eddie asked softly. "What happens when it's just you and me left?"

"We'll brawl. And then you'll have the final chance to prove that you're not second. Kill me and you'll be first". The boy leaned in closer. "You'll be the winner for once".

That seemed to be the trigger word in Eddie's head. Wiping away his tears, the boy sniffled, nodded, but didn't respond. If anything, Jude was satisfied. The deal had been struck. Instead of being a shadow, Eddie was faced with the possibility of taking the league in life. Everything was pleasant now.

"I don't want to die", Eddie whined suddenly. "I don't want to get hurt no more".

"Then don't", Jude said simply. "When the time comes, just run for it"

And with those simple words, Jude stood up and walked away, leaving the boy with a very different outlook on the program.

At 12:45 AM, every intercom wired all over the island crackled on with a metallic hiss.

"Good evening everyone! Coming live from the school, it's Reynold Burke with the midnight report! I'd like to be the first and probably last to congratulate you on surviving for the second day. Twenty-nine of you left right? God. I'm feeling that sleep deprivation too, boys and girls. Fuckers won't even let me take a nap for a second. Then again, none of these assholes are entitled to give a shit about a program instructor anyway. All they care about are their money, their announcements and their damn ratings. Well, considering how I haven't passed out yet, I guess it's time to say who died in the last six hours.

There was the sound of typing in a computer terminal followed by swearing under the man's breathe. He groaned loudly.

"You're all pitiful", he continued. "Simply pitiful. One death? I mean, in an age of school shootings where you practically have the same risk of dying at school as test pilots, you still have the nerve to only rack up one death? What the hell is the matter with you guys? Start piling up some bodies or we're blowing your heads off! Anyway, our lone fallen warrior was Rory North, Boy #13. You guys make think that you're making some kind of point to yourselves by dying, but in the end, the only thing you're leaving behind in the world is a corpse. Now, the Danger Zones. At 1:45 we have J6, that's J6 at 1:45. At 2:33 we have H10, followed by G9 at 4:15 and A2 at 5:43. And on the subject of your awful body count, I think we'll make a new rule this time around. Get at least three bodies or we blow all of your collars and end the game. It's that simple. I hope you've learned your lesson from the last six hours and start behaving like real American patriots".

The sound of clicking in a computer terminal started again. Anyone listening closely could hear other soldiers in the school walking around, shouting out orders.

"Oh, and on a final note, please ignore the ship patrolling the side of the island. The bidders might yell out anything they want, but don't let it get to you. Every single one of you has a shot to win. That'll be all. Burke out".

Preston Tracy (Boy #18) normally wasn't a very fun person to be around. Gaining the reputation in school of being socially awkward as well as a scaredy cat, he'd spent most of his high school career either being pushed around in his mascot costume or trapped in lockers. It wasn't that he didn't try to fit in. Most of the time, he was just too afraid of being let down to attempt anything close to an actual friendship.

"That back fired on you though", the boy thought. "What allies do you have out here now? Who's going to catch you when you fall?"

That was another problem. Never having much of a high opinion of himself, he relied on other people to the point where he never made a single decision for anything. He pictured himself like a marionette on strings, used every step of the way by the puppeteer. In this case, the puppeteer was Boy #2….

It was so clear to him that Chris needed to be killed. Not only was he a tyrant on the island but in school as well. Always seeing him as a confident and fearless leader, he'd actually tried out for the mascot position in hope to get closer to the quarterback. After all, he was easily one of the most popular kids in school. If he invited him into his social circle, a whole new world would open up to him. Instead of walking through the hallways alone, he would be surrounded by a crowd of friends. He'd have someone to talk to in class. He'd be invited to parties. It would be perfection.

Instead, he got quite the opposite reaction.

From flushing his head in the toilet and duct taping him to the flagpole in his mascot costume, his life became a living hell. He'd gone from unnoticed to hated school wide just because Chris said so. When he passed the quarterback in the hall, the times when he luckily didn't notice him, Preston had always felt impulses. Violent impulses.

But he couldn't hurt him. Preston was a pacifist. Along with that, he was a coward. Murdering Chris was completely out of the question. In fear of getting hurt, he just tended to go with the flow and take the abuse. But in the back of his mind, there was always that growing feeling. The feeling of rage…killhimkillhimkillhim…

"It's time", Zane said suddenly. "Everyone ready?"

Preston's thoughts were ended when the idea of their escape blasted him back to reality. Taking in a deep breath, he glanced up at Zane. Scraggly-looking with stringy, brown hair tucked under a skater beanie, the boy wasn't someone that he would normally put faith into. In fact, he would have been the very last person. He was a wannabe revolutionary whose plans probably sounded better in his head than they did to everyone else.

"I'm ready", Roxy said.

"Yeah", Preston said. He felt like he didn't have a choice. "Yeah, I'm ready too".

Feeling butterflies in his stomach, he glanced over at Rory's corpse. Gnats and bog insects were buzzing around his water-logged skull, twittering around the blood and brains. That was going to be all of them. All of them were going to become bug food. God, this is such a stupid idea. What are you still doing here, man?

"Do you think they were serious about that announcement?" Roxy asked. "About blowing everyone's collar if we don't start killing eachother soon?"

"I think it's against the rules for them to end the game just because no one's killing anyone", Zane replied. "They're probably just trying to scare everyone into starting a massacre".

"The game's been slowing down though", Roxy said. "Do you think that means anything? I mean, maybe we can go for the rest of the game without anyone dying".

"There's always one left in the end", Zane said grimly. "My entire family watches the program every year on TV. My dad always tries to get me to watch it too. If I ever say anything bad about it, he just calls me unpatriotic and walks away shaking his head. He thinks I'm a lost cause because I don't want to watch everyone's head being blown off".

"So somebody always wins?" Roxy asked.

"Either that or the only person left just dies in the hospital when the game is over. Anyway, it doesn't matter. We can't be thinking about that right now. Everyone's clear on the plan, right?"

"Actually", a smooth voice said from behind them. "I'm a little confused".

Standing above them all was none other than Jude Mercedes (Boy #11). Having apparently joined in on their circle when no one was paying attention, the idea of how long he could have been eavesdropping was unnerving. Glancing down at them with his dead-looking eyes, he was almost like an animated corpse.

"There seems to be a lot of discussion going on over here", Jude said. "I sense some sort of rebellion going on, am I right?" He glanced down at the ground and wrinkled his nose. "Of course, it looks like some were too late to join in".

They followed his gaze to Rory's remains on the ground. The bog was eating away at his flesh, churning his face into the dirt like runny mud. There seemed to be some sort of fungus growing underneath his eye.

Zane sighed. "Look, no offense, but we really have enough people here. You're free to escape just as much as the rest of us, but it would be good for everyone if you just didn't join in on-

"You don't have the pretend to not think I'm some kind of freak", Jude cut in. "Everyone thinks I'm a freak, you know. They look at me and whisper to each other even though I'm right in front of them. Sometimes I try to figure out what they're saying, but then I decide it really doesn't matter". He paused. "I don't want to join in on whatever you're doing here, by the way".

"Then why are you here?" Zane asked.

"Well, that's really not your concern, is it? After all, Zane, I find it strange that you're leading another revolution of yours. I seem to recall something happening this summer from your file. You aren't a very good leader, are you?"

Zane glared. "You don't know anything about me".

"Maybe I don't", Jude said placidly. "Just like I don't know that Roxy's cousin died in one of these very games. Or that diabetes runs in Preston's family and he was lucky enough not to inherit it. Anyway, I don't think any of that matters much".

Acting like he'd been invited, the boy sat down in the mud with them. The most troubling thing about the boy was how unfazed he seemed to be to the killing game. While almost all of them were covered in wounds and at the verge of falling apart, Jude's only physical casualties seemed to be the fact that he was caked from head to toe in grime and that his eyes looked wilder than ever.

"I've been talking with Chris", Jude said quietly. "He's a mess. If you guys get him at the right moment, you can definitely take him down. I don't think you're doing much by fighting him in the first place though. You're not proving anything. After all, there's the nature philosophy".

"What's the nature philosophy?" Roxy asked.

Jude smiled widely. "It's something I've established on my own time. It's my belief that everything on this island isn't worth it in the long run. You see, people are cogs. They get up in the morning to go to work for no reason other than that it's their role in society to be a part of the bigger machine. Think about how all of those people getting up in the morning can just be replaced by clones of themselves. Think about how everyone on this island can be replaced. We're all just numbers, anyway. Just pawns on a chess board to move around. People are expendable by nature. In the long run, nobody's really worth it".

"You're fucking nuts", Zane said. "How can you actually think like that?"

"I don't know", Jude said simply. "I'm just different. I don't think I belong with the rest of you. I always feel out of place. Isn't that right Preston?"

Preston, who always looked edgy, now looked like he was at the verge of a heart attack. Just the idea of Jude speaking directly to him seemed to terrify him. Cowering in fear, he did a very poor job of making eye contact with the boy.

Jude shrugged. "I guess you're not much for conversation. I see you in school, you know. You always walk down the hallway looking at the ground. You don't have much of a high opinion of yourself, do you?"

"Leave him alone", Roxy hissed. "You're being an asshole".

"I'm being honest. You're the mascot. I see you get in that fat king costume at the games and jump around. And then, right after that, I see Chris and the others beat the shit out of you behind the bleachers. You never fight back, though. Why is that?"

"I'm scared", Preston said softly. "I…I just want to fit in".

"Exactly", Jude continued. "You thought that trying to get close to the football team would open up your little social circle. Didn't exactly work out, did it? Fitting in isn't all it's cracked up to be. I know that for a fact. After all, look at yourself now. You're in a Battle Royale. Who cares if you're invited to parties or if you're a damn quarterback for your football team. This is a game to spill blood. It's not a game where being popular matters anymore".

"But what do you want me to do?" Preston asked. He was so frightened that his voice had started cracking. "What the hell do you want?"

"What do you think? This is your time to deprive the Spanish Rivers Sultans of the best player in town. Slaughter him. Think about all of the times he pushed you around for no reason other than that he felt like it. You have a lot of rage, Preston. You've just been too scared to ever use it. Grind Chris's head into the ground. Dance in his blo-

"Just shut up!" Zane cried. "You're putting words into his head!"

"Like you don't?" Jude sneered.

But it didn't matter what words Preston was swallowing anymore. At the moment Jude finished speaking, there seemed to be a change triggered in the mascot. His face light up in realization, suddenly understanding the flaws in his life. Through the horrors of what Jude had said, it looked like he now had quite another agenda other than escaping. He was thirsty for revenge. In the back of his mind, the boy now had the growing desire to become a killing machine.

Zane, apparently noticing the abrupt change in the mascot, decided it was best to start in on the plan before things got any worse. Taking in a deep breath and trying as hard as he could to forget everything Jude said, he faced the others. It was time.

"Does everyone know what to do?" he asked.

"I have the first move", Preston said quietly. His voice was still shrill.

Crawling over to Zane and the duct tape cocoon around him that was soaked in mud, he carefully began to peel off the tape. Doing it hesitantly and trying to keep the breach hidden, he worked his way through the bindings. Folding the severed tape over on the boy's back and wrapping it around again, he gave the illusion that the boy was still being held down by the gray cocoon while he was really free as a bird.

"Nice job", Zane said when he finished. "Roxy?"

"I'm ready", she said quickly. "Give it to me".

With his newly freed right hand, Zane scurried his hand through the damp quagmire of the bog until he felt something cold and metal. Quickly checking the Beretta 21A Bobcat pistol to see if it was loaded, he tried his best to shake off some of the bog water that appeared to be clogged in it. Sliding it over to the muskeg tree, he watched carefully as Roxy struggled to get her fingers on it. After some effort, the girl that was still tied to the tree managed to grab the weapon and tuck it into her jeans.

"Time to play dead, girl", she thought. "Better pray to God this works".

Laying back and sucking in all of her breathe, the star actress of the Spanish Rivers High School drama club lay back against the tree with her hands sprawled out in the mud. It was going to be the best performance she'd ever given. To passerby who didn't know any better, she might as well have been a corpse if it wasn't for her collar flashing a red light to correspond with her heart beat. There was an easy solution to that. The knot Eddie had tied her to the tree with his jersey was tight, but it wasn't that tight. She managed to roll over enough against the tree to hide her collar from view.

Everything was in place. All they needed now was the boy that imprisoned them.

Chris Barrister (Boy #2) had fallen asleep for roughly three minutes before he kicked himself back awake. Slumped over with the sniper rifle nudging against his chin, dark dreams had ping-ponged back and forth in the athlete's head. Running down the football field feeling his father's cold eyes bearing down at him from the bleachers. Warm-ups in the morning as he ran through tires over and over again. It was a living hell. A living hell that he'd unfortunately endured for his entire life. He wanted so badly for it to end, and sadly, he knew it was only wishful thinking. Winning had been his path in life, and ironically, he knew it was turning out to be the path that would be leading him to his death.

"You fell asleep", the boy's father yelled at him in his mind. "How can you have fallen asleep? Do you even want to get that fucking scholarship? They don't just hand scholarships out to scrawny little pussy boys who fall asleep on the job. If they did the weak would be running everywhere".

His thoughts were ended when a sharp voice screamed his name through the bog.

"CHRIS!"

For a bizarre second, Chris had the hysterical urge to answer, "yes daddy?" Then his consciousness returned and he realized that the voice belonged to Zane. Ignoring the throbbing headache in his head and too dazed to think of a proper insult to throw back at the boy, he found himself rising to his feet. I'm not even a real person anymore. I'm just a soldier marching out of the battlefield.

Stumbling over with the sniper rifle in his hands heavier than he remembered it, he marched over to the clearing of sunken-in trees at the far end of the bog. Seeing only shadowy outlines of the prisoners gathered around the tree in the moonlight, the first thing he noticed was the girl laying face-down in her dirt. Eddie had evidently been too much of a dumbshit to tie his jersey around the tree right. The girl was lying in the mud with the baggy shirt only tied loosely around her and the tree.

"Fucker can't even tie a knot right", Chris thought. "She could have gotten out if she pulled hard enough. Got to remember to beat the shit out of him. Got to remember to get em' all good. Got to do it for my old man. But that girl. The way she's sitting there. Is she-

"She didn't make it", Zane Barrens (Boy #1) said quietly. He was coated in the duct tape they'd wrapped around him and lying at Chris's feet. If he looked closer he would have noticed how oddly positioned the tape was, almost like it was just layered on top of it, but he was too dazed to care much about anything.

Chris blinked. "What?"

"She didn't make it", Zane said again. "We checked her pulse awhile ago and we didn't get anything. She's dead".

"I think she had a heart condition", Zane said sadly. "Kept mumbling about having to take her pills or something. She wasn't making any sense. Plus she's been running around in the cold all day before she showed up here. We tried keeping her alive for as long as we could, but nothing really worked".

Chris eyed the girl curiously. As far as he could tell, she looked pretty dead. Slumped against the ground with the football jersey clinging around her, she didn't appear to be breathing at all. Lungs probably weren't strong enough to get over some cold. Got the chills. Stupid bitch.

But there was the growing dreadful feeling that there was something very wrong. Things just didn't seem to fit together right. As Chris stared at the dead body, the sound of Eddie jogging toward them made him grit his teeth. Apparently drawn by the sudden commotion, he stared in horror at the girl's corpse on the ground.

His eyes widened. "Is she…"

"Bitch ain't dead", Chris growled. "and I can prove it".

"What the hell are you talking about?" Zane said. "She's fucking dead. There's nothing to prove".

"You guys are just trying to screw around with me", Chris snarled. "I've seen you talking for hours, you know. Jude and I have both been watching you. You all had your heads together like you were planning something"

"You've left us all out in the cold to die", Zane said with a glare. "Sorry if we're talking about how the hell we're going to keep ourselves alive".

Tightening his grip on the sniper rifle and wanting to ram it into the revolutionary's face, he looked cautiously at the girl. Her skin was pale, but then again, it had always been. She'd always reminded Chris of a plant that hadn't gotten enough sunlight. Kneeling over toward her, he raised his eyebrow as he gave her a good shake on the shoulder. Aside from her head rolling over to the side, nothing happened. Leaning in even closer, he realized that he couldn't even feel her breathe.

"Her collar", Eddie said suddenly.

Chris didn't look away from the girl. "What?"

"Her collar. Check her collar. Remember what they said about the heart beat thing?"

Never much for remembering much other than one-night stands and stories behind athletic trophies in his room, he had to think hard to remember that Burke had mentioned the collars beeping red light to correspond with their heartbeat. Glancing up at Roxy's neck, he realized that the angle she was facing in the mud made it impossible for him to see her collar.

"I'll tell you fuckers if she's dead or not", Chris said sharply.

Reaching forward, the quarterback grabbed Roxy firmly and held her up to see her neck….

When the captives of the bog had planned their escape, they'd counted on many things. Revolution had been high on the list, but in the back of all of their minds, they had expected surprises. None of them had openly said this in fear of crushing the hope of the others, but there'd been that constant reminder that anything could go wrong. It wasn't that they hadn't planned hard enough, but it was just the fact that they'd overlooked several things. They'd planned that Roxy would be able to hold her breathe and play dead. They planned that Zane would be able to persuade Chris into checking her collar.

What they didn't plan on was the high water levels of the bog seeping into the pistol and rendering its ammunition completely useless….

The moment Chris leaned out toward her collar, Roxy sprung to life and whipped out the Bobcat pistol. Pointing it at the quarterback's chest, she clicked the trigger and felt her eyes widen in horror when it produced absolutely nothing but clogged water and dirt.

"Well, well, well".

Chris grinned malevolently. His fingers drummed on the carbines of the sniper rifle. For a tense moment in the bog, there was complete silence. Everybody was caught between horror and anticipation on what would come next. Something was going to happen. Somebody was going to do something. The question was who.

Odds didn't expect Eddie Dunnerman (Boy #2).

Rushing forward, the boy ran forward with the syringe he'd taken from the first-aid kit and stabbed Chris in the back.

It had begun.

No Students Eliminated

29 Students Remaining