The simplest things in life are sometimes the hardest to put into words. Trivial things happen every day in our lives, for better or worse. Some overlook them, some don't. It's really all a matter of if things are really as shallow as we think they are. It could even be said for the twenty-three remaining competitors that the principles of life were just as deep back home as they were on the island. It took so much thought to take things into perspective sometimes that most people just chose not to.

Lea Passington (Girl #11) wasn't someone who usually overlooked things. In fact, she analyzed everything she could get her hands on.

At around eight in the morning, she'd woken up in a clearing from what could only be described as a sleep from hell. There'd been nightmares, and a lot of them at that. Feeling that age-old sense of trying to recall her dreams, all she could remember were groggy snap-shots. Enrique with his brains spewed out like a piñata on that artificial grass. Meyerhold cradling his testicles after they had met her bolt cutters. And, in a memory much further away from the island, a girl screaming in the street as a man in a clerical outfit died in front of her. Forget that. Get up. Let's get this show on the road…

After quickly gathering up her newly christened first-aid kit and organizing her thoughts, she'd set off into the early morning. She'd only been on the island a day, but the consistent whirlwind of trees and winding trails seemed like something she'd known forever. This was her home now. And if it wasn't her home, it was her burial ground. And if she wanted to get out, the only real option was to keep going. Look at this place. It's almost like its alive or something….

But that was a stupid thought. And it was one that she'd abandoned quickly. After several minutes of stealthful running through the woods, she'd finally slowed down into a walk with her handsaw scraping into the dirt at her side like a walking stick and her new pistol cocked and ready in her other hand. And, if her thoughts had really been gathered back into the right place, that was where she was now. A lone wanderer. That was a good way to describe it. Taking a quick glance down at the saw, she couldn't help but grimace at her reflection in the metal blade. Never really a sight to look at, she looked more like a poster-child from a starving country. Her face was contorted from sleep deprivation, her hair greasy from mud, grime and sweat, and shuffling her shoulder, she felt a wave of pain sift in from her bullet wound. Infection. That hurts. Your face doesn't matter though. It's not like you wake up and worry about how you look anyway. That's for the rest of them….

Lea's mind rambled into circles, trying to latch onto something to think about. Memories of teachers and school life faded away, instead becoming the memories of whistling trees and the hiss of golf clubs smashing through the air. Trying to cling onto the days before the island, Lea found herself trying to think back as far as she could.

Her parents. Well, it had only seemed right to give her up really. Although they blamed it on financial reasons, the cold truth behind it was that neither of them had the first clue of how to raise a child. They loved her, that was a given, but most of the time they left her to her own devices. Most of Lea's childhood was spent sitting out on her screen-in porch reading or watching mind-numbing sitcoms in the den while her parents were out working. She'd lived, but she'd lived the bare minimum of what a child needed to survive. A façade of a life was probably the right way to describe it. It wouldn't do. And that was probably what led her parents to make the decision.

After barely five years of living with what she could loosely call her family, Lea was sent to live with her Auntie Pru down in a windswept, woodsy area of Oklahoma called Spanish Rivers. The town was small, and the fact that her aunt was known in town for being an eccentric recluse didn't make things any better. She would still see her parents on holidays, even on occasional weekends when they had time, but that didn't take anything away from the truth. They'd given her up…

But that was okay. If there was one thing Lea loved in the world, it was learning things. Always did, always will. On summer afternoons she'd walk to the library and take out as many books as she could with her library card. Then she'd run home with her arms piled high and throw them all out on her bed in a rumpled heap. As much as she wanted to read them right away, it seemed like a tradition to throw them there first and ruffle up her aunt's meticulously made bed sheets. And then she'd prop herself under the covers and read while her aunt smoked cigarettes downstairs in the parlor and played bridge with her book club.

Looking back at those days of cigarette-stinking houses and rumpled bed sheets, Lea couldn't help but shiver. It wasn't a bad relationship. She definitely had her flaws, but at heart, Lea's aunt was probably one of the kindest people in the world. She took her for walks sometimes in the late afternoon, often ending when they came home and sat in the parlor drinking ice teas together. The teas had been lukewarm, but that was the point. It was part of that bittersweet taste Lea knew differed with everyone's home. The feeling of family. Her aunt would take her to their church down in Delgado every weekend, and on those lucky Sunday nights, she would take her into the kitchen and teach her how to bake things.

But then there were the bad times, or as her auntie would call them, "the bumps". Lea really did like learning things. A lot. And in a house with crucifixes and biblical pictures decorating the wall, she couldn't help but feel sheltered. There was definitely more in the grand scheme of things. And she wanted to learn as much as she could. Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she could hear the conversations in her head.

I'll put down the book, auntie. Please, I'll put it down. I'll even return it to the library. Just don't hit me.

What is it, Lea? Answer me!

It's….it's a….a….I got it from the library. It's this big encyclopedia. It's called....A World of Hope by Jeanne Garton. It's about all of these different faiths around the world. I just thought it would be interesting. I mean, for all we know Jesus might….well….you know. He might not really be there. There's….there's a section about Judaism and another one over here about Islam and-

So that's it? Reading some jewbook, is that what you're doing? Reading bout' a bunch of Christ killers? Is that what you're doing, Lea?"

No auntie. I…I guess I'm not…

Give me that book, Lea. Get washed up for dinner and don't let me catch you reading about that garbage again. It'll put holes in your head.

And that was when the bumps began. She would hit her. Not often, but with Lea's tendency to open her mouth and blurt out things her aunt was more than a little touchy about, she definitely ended up with a few bruises to show. It wasn't that her aunt was a bad person. Lea loved her, of course. It was just that after she lost her husband, she just seemed to believe that God was the only person left that cared about her.

And that was how it started. Fed up with her aunt's beliefs and more than a little confidant that they weren't true, Lea spent most of her time at the library. She read up on religion, finding so many loopholes and plot holes in the Bible that her eyes started to blur. True, she made up some of them and a lot of them were just conclusions, but there was no denying religion was just a way to frighten people of the real menace in the world: death. Death had that haunting sense of being everywhere. In the street on the way to the church. Out on her aunt's porch with those lukewarm glasses of ice tea. And now on this island….

Lea shambled through the woods with her handsaw. She'd been carrying it for awhile, and feeling that sweaty grip, she had the strange feeling that it had become part of her. But it hadn't. It was just a tool, and a good one at that. Her gun was cocked and ready, her bolt cutters slung over her back like some kind of murderous construction worker. The early morning air was cool, brushing past her cheeks as she trudged down the trail. This was the good time of day. Get a good book and sit down on the back porch with a glass of ice tea. Then you could go the library. And after the-

There was something coming into her view on the ground. At first glance it resembled a sandbox torn out of the earth, but as she got closer, she finally realized what it was. It was a mine shaft. There was splintered wood around it, and by the look of it, somebody had tumbled down it earlier. A little unnerved, Lea bent over and sniffed the air, expecting to find the rising stench of some corpse at the bottom. She didn't.

"You can't afford another fight right now", she thought. "Better to stay low. Keep away from everyone else. A glass wall or something…"

It was easy, after all, to live behind a glass wall. You became an observer to the world, watching problems churn and turn but feeling a lifetime away from them. You maintained a sense that you were better than other people, watching them go about their daily routines and run in circles. Weeds, that's what they all are….

Lea descended down into the shaft.

The sky above the island was overcast. Although the morning had promised to be sunny only hours ago, a scourge of humidity had suddenly caked the island in a damp wave. As the escape crew walked through the woods, gnats buzzed around irritably and bit at their mud-caked sneakers. Every so often they would have to hitch up the collars of their shirts just to wipe off sweat. Daily weather back in Oklahoma was one thing, but tropical weather was just a mystery on its own. It didn't seem to have any real pattern besides having the plain willingness to piss them off.

"I swear", Mare Ewing (Girl #3) said as she swat at a gnat by her face. "I swear to God man, if I ever get out of here, I'm not going to rest until I have this island nuked and wiped off the face of the earth".

"What's wrong?" Tristan Igolovosky (Boy #8) asked. "Spring weather getting to you?".

They were walking this way: Mare, Tristan, Roxy, Mitch, Terry and finally Zane bringing up the rear with his rifle slung over his shoulder and his eyes locked forward. There'd been scattered conversation since their scavenging mission had begun, but as time wore on, things couldn't have become clearer. They were a group of misfits from every clique the school had to offer. All of them walked different lives. Just between them there was a jock, a criminal and a theatre kid and that wasn't counting the other recluses they had that had gone off to the bomb sight. Throw in a few more nerds and valley girls and we could all be in a John Hughes movie together…

"I can take weather sometimes", Mare said finally. "Even the humid kind. I'm all for weather but these flies that come with it are too much. I mean, they say God made all of the animals for a reason, but I can't find a purpose these fuckers could have in the world".

"They're called gnats", Roxy Patterson (Girl #12) responded. "They're part of the food-chain. They eat a lot of plants. It's a big cycle".

For some reason her comment seemed to quiet everyone down. She waited for a second for anyone to say something, but all she got was silence. She'd really shut them all up. It felt strange to her, and what felt even stranger was that she was walking on a march with a hoard of people she'd mostly never spoken to before. It was weird to say the least.

In school, nobody really noticed her because she was quiet and had a way of blending in with the crowd. She wasn't really that pretty either with a page-boy haircut and wide, spaced-out eyes, but she'd convinced herself that she was far from ugly. And there was no way she was going to force herself into being one of those glamour-struck girls that spent hours obsessing over their faults in a mirror. In the grand scheme of things, it helped thinking that what God hadn't given her in looks he'd given her in heart. She was a good girl. Well, at least she thought she was…

The drama club had been fun for awhile. Since she was in elementary school, Roxy had always felt like the stage was calling her name. If you weren't happy with yourself, there was no greater feeling in the world than being able to lose yourself in those harsh spotlights and slip into a new mind and body. You could pretend to be a new person and nobody would care. Plain and simple, that was acting to her. And it was why she'd had such a great time.

But it hadn't lasted long. Performances had sped by fast, and after awhile, it had just become too demanding. Forced up at the crack of dawn by her ever-smiling parents, it only seemed commonplace that she would be ending up on Broadway one day. After all, she'd won that televised youth recital back when she was three and she could carry a tune just fine. With a few good connections, it wouldn't be hard to find somebody that would let her worm her way into some out-of-the-way production. That was your future, girl. That's really all mom and dad had planned for you, isn't it? They didn't care about you. All they cared about was if your voice didn't crack in the finale….

But her future was gone now. The Battle Royale had taken her chances of being on the Great White Way and crushed them. If her parents were there she probably would have sobbed up some fake tears for them, but with them gone, she couldn't help but feel glad. Instead of everyone seeing her as the characters that she played on stage, they could finally see her as Roxy Patterson. After all, shuffled from role to role and having no choice but to stretch her expression on stage every night, she'd played so many characters that she ended up forgetting who she really was. It was easy to become someone else on stage, but in the end, it didn't give you anything if you wanted to have a decent outlook on yourself. You're a good girl. That's what you are. If anything still makes sense out here, you might as well try to do some good now….

She looked up at the others. They were all walking in a single-file line, and by the look of it, none of them were talking. It was an eerie silence, almost like they were all going on a funeral march. She wanted to say something, but there was that gnawing truth that no one would care to listen.

Gazing up the line, Roxy watched as Mare's spiky, green locks bounced in the air. Taking a good look at her, she couldn't help but feel a little bit better. Mare was a good friend when it came down to it. Maybe even one of the best in the world. Although she wasn't one of the easiest people to talk to in the world, they both shared the same cynical, scatterbrained sense of humor that had made them close friends. The two of them walked to the beat of two very different drums (Mare being a reputable criminal while Roxy was a mild-mannered drama girl) but the friendship had still come despite everything that had crossed its path. And it had stayed too. There'd been nights when they stood up, talking and giggling on the phone under their covers, sometimes even until the sun came up. But then there were the parts of the relationship that Roxy could deal without. The fact that you couldn't make her quit those damn cigarettes. The fact that you couldn't get her to stop stealing. The fact that you couldn't make your parents agree to inviting her over to dinner because of that funny look in her eyes and the fear that she might pocket something when they weren't looking. Thank god the drama club brought us together….

"Things are pretty lively around here, aren't they?" Roxy said with a grin as she walked up beside her

"Yeah", Mare said. "Pretty happy bunch. Sorry we didn't get a chance to talk earlier. How've you been holding up, Roxy?"

"A few issues here and there, but I'm good".

Mare grinned. "The front of your shirt is completely covered in blood".

"Okay, things have pretty much been awful", Roxy sighed. "Still, you got to look on the bright side".

"I guess you do. I've been thinking the same thing, but it pretty much falls apart every time when I really think it over. I'm just going along to get along, y'know?"

"You really think that would work?"

"Well", Mare said. "What do we have to lose in situations like this?"

"How about our lives? No offense girl, but that's a pretty stupid attitude to have".

She waited for Mare to say something else but she didn't. She just kept walking, humming some old song to herself that Roxy couldn't quite place her finger on. It was important to stay positive. Or at least pretend to. It has to be. It's what you've been doing your whole life…

"Anyone got a cigarette?" Tristan said suddenly.

"No", Roxy said. "My grandpa died from lung cancer. I've never had a cigarette in my life".

"I try not to smoke too often", Terry called from further back. "But don't you think you should cut back, Tristan? I mean, you've had a lot".

"Ah, screw it", Tristan sighed. "There's no such thing as a good-tasting smoke out here anyway. It's too hard to stop thinking about everything".

"Here", Mare said as she reached into her pocket. "I only have one left but I've had a lot too. And they really haven't helped me at all. Take it".

She withdrew a beaten-looking box of Camels and tossed it over to Tristan. He caught it with fumbling fingers before reaching into his own pocket and pulling out a lighter. He lit it hastily and took in a deep drag as he threw the empty carton and stepped on it. The smoke billowed out of his mouth like some kind of train whistle.

"Thanks Mare", he said. "So does anyone have any idea of who we're supposed to be looking for?"

"Peter said go out and scavenge", Mitch said. "We need more people if we want to get this fire going. So anyone we trust, I guess".

"Well, my list is short then", Tristan said. "No one I knew really came into the game. I knew Winston a little. Me and the guys used to play baseball down at the Ridgedale field after school and he used to drop by. He may not have talked much, but damn, that guy was a tank. He hit the ball so hard the crack hurt your ears. But… well…he's dead now…"

"My list is pretty short now", Zane said from the back. "Almost everyone I could have called a friend is dead"

"Maybe that's the point", Terry said. "I mean, they wanted us to kill each other. There's money riding on this thing, and as much as they get kicks out of watching us wipe out our friends, I don't think this game would get anywhere if we were all really close with each other. They need to even things out so they throw in a few strangers, a few close friends, and then they let us have a go each other".

"Yeah", Mitch said. He felt the need to say something else, but really couldn't find anything. "Yeah, I guess they do".

Things loosened up as they got deeper into the trail. There was a grim silence after Terry's comment, but that died out rather quickly. They started talking about school, which opened up to joking around about teachers, which eventually opened up into any funny stories anyone knew. Zane told the bizarre tale of the night he and his friends had broken into that abandoned village, which frightened the group just as much as it amused them. Mitch told a hoard of sick jokes he'd learned mainly from Adam that got everyone in stitches.

Tristan told them all about an ill-fated night involving a hockey teammate by the name of Chad Dante. A known party animal and even more of a known idiot, Chad hadn't stopped a broken leg during the championship game from letting him go to the celebration afterwards at Amber's house. Coming directly from the emergency in a wheelchair late at night, he'd been more than welcome by his teammates seeing how the shot that had broken his leg had also been the shot that won the game. After getting fairly drunk, he lost all common sense and took a cigarette despite the fact that the bandages on his leg was covered in highly flammable ointment. Wheeling himself over to Leana Devora, he tried pulling his moves on her just as ash fell down from the cigarette and landed on his leg cast. In an instant, everything below Chad's waist was engulfed in flames and he had to be wheeled into the pool by his friends.

"You guys got him out though, right?" Mare asked with a grin. There were still tears of laughter in her eyes.

"Yeah, he was fine", Tristan said with a grin. "He did have to go the emergency room again after, but we wheeled him into the pool quick enough for the fire not to get bad. He's always saying that Leana made out with after because she felt bad about everything after, but I don't believe it since it wasn't even close to her fault. Chad's an asshole anyway".

"He's not that bad", Terry said. "I mean, there were people in school who were a lot harder to deal with. People like Arthur Lauris or Chris Barris-

"We better not speak ill of the dead", Tristan warned. "But yeah, I can't say anyone's going to be tearing up over Chris being gone. I try not to talk about other people a lot. I mean, some people deserve it, especially if they come into a party with their mind set on getting into someone's pants and then light themselves on fire, but I think everyone's the way they are for a reason. Our family, they're the ones that make us the way we are".

"My parents love me, I think", Roxy said suddenly. Everyone turned to her and she felt her face go red. "Well, at least I think so. They care about and everything, but sometimes I wonder if they'd still love me if something bad happened and I couldn't act anymore. They lived for getting me under that spotlight…"

"They just wanted to see you do well", Mitch said. "Sometimes our parents will make us unhappy as long as it steers us in the right direction…."

"I don't believe in family", Zane said. "I believe in love, but I don't believe in family. I think it's something that you're born to get away from".

"You really think that?" Mitch asked. "You really think that your family has no impact on your life?"

"Well", Zane began. "they impact your life, sure, but I see them as something that you just have to deal with. It's like high school if you think about it. You have to go along to get along".

"I like high school", Tristan said thoughtfully. "I think its fun".

"That's because you're the kind of kid the school worships", Mare said with a smirk. "Everyone loves you just because you can knock a puck around on ice and you're good-looking".

"My brother looks exactly like me", Tristan laughed. "You don't see girls asking for his phone number".

"Well, that's like you said before", Terry said. "You're different people. Everyone's different if you think about it, and even if you came from the same family, the smallest thing could have set you guys apart".

"And that's life", Roxy said dully. "You gotta learn to deal with it".

"I guess you do", Tristan said. The subject felt touchy, almost like territory that he knew shouldn't have been ventured into in the first place. They needed to go back to safer ground. "Any of you guys got any more stories to tell?"

"I'm fresh out", Mitch said with a yawn. "Anyone else?"

"How about we just ask a question?" Terry said. "What kind of music are you guys into?"

As they tended to, one question became another until they were going back and forth with them. The inquiries varied from what they planned to do after high school and what their favorite movie was to which teachers pissed them off the most. After awhile the questions flowed out easily, almost to the point where they could have been a group of friends walking on a weekend together just cracking jokes, knowing the whole time that the rest of them would be laughing no matter what. The sun even came out after awhile, and with its rays beaming down through the trees, the whole image of a death island almost became a mirage. Some kind of pretend-game, maybe. But the whole time, that couldn't be farther from the truth. There was no shaking away the fact that in forty hours, all of them had the decent chance of being dead.

"Next question", Roxy said with a grin. "Who'd you have a crush on at our school?"

"You guys have to promise you won't laugh", Mitch said.

"Only if it's Amber Prescott", Terry laughed. But there was a strange waver in her voice, almost like she didn't want to hear what he had to say. The laugh really didn't seem real.

"Just say it", Tristan said. He'd finally put out his cigarette.

"Fine", Mitch said. "Up until she started coating herself in make-up, I liked Erin".

"No offense, but it's best to not go near that girl", Tristan warned. "That is, if you're thinking about the same Erin Thompson I am. She's been with half the guys in school, and maybe even a few girls. She probably has every disease known to God".

"I said I liked her", Mitch said. "I'm not crazy about her now. She was prettier when she wore less make-up. I like girls who have a more natural look to them. It's just awkward if they have anything else. It's like they're wearing a mask or something".

"I use a lot of make-up sometimes", Mare said. "Bu-

Her words were cut off when the world suddenly caved in around her. The others gasped and drew back as splintered wood littered her feet. With the earth almost looking like it was trying to suck her in, Mare shrieked and stumbled backwards, stumbling out of the newfound pit on the ground and then falling back flat on her ass. A dark sandbox of a hole had belched out of the ground in front of her.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Mare screamed. "SON OF A BITCH!"

The others approached the hole cautiously as she scrambled to her feet. Plywood boards had been covering it, almost like some kind of trapdoor designed to snatch them up. But the wood was badly decayed and what seemed like an eternity of forest rust was covering it. Gathering around the hole, they peered down it for an uncomfortable moment.

"It's some kind of shaft", Mitch said. "It looks like it goes right down to the center of the earth".

"No shit it's a shaft", Tristan said. "but what's it doing here?'

"Oh", Terry said suddenly. "So that's what all of those red lines were".

She didn't answer the confused stare the others gave her. Instead, reaching into the pocket of her sleeve-frayed windbreaker, she pulled out a slightly worn map marked with coordinates. The danger zones and times were scribbled on the back in untidy red scrawl. Kneeling down onto the ground, she rolled out the map and traced her finger across it.

"We're right here", Terry said. "and the lines are all around us. I can't believe I didn't get them earlier".

She pointed her finger to dotted red lines that were circling and intertwining across the map. Some of them went through buildings, others through the forest, but most of them just seemed to criss-cross the island with no clear sense of direction. With fingernails that hadn't been cut in awhile, Terry traced her finger on one of the line's paths until she reached an abrupt end.

"I think we're here", she concluded. "and if I'm right, the lines are mine shafts. There's a whole series of tunnels under this island. There's six, I think. One here, and in the barn, and in the diner, and near the northern shore, and another off near the bog and-

"And they probably opened them just for this game", Mare concluded. "It's a trap. There's no way we're going down there".

"I'm with Mare", Roxy said. "It's just what they want us to do. It's probably a trick or something".

"We didn't say anything about going down there", Zane said. "But we should really think things over. I mean, think about it. If we stay up here, the odds are we're going to run into someone eventually. No one wants to fight if we don't have to. But if we go down there, we can easily get from one side of the island to the other. It'll be a lot easier to figure out where everyone is".

"We all have flashlights too", Tristan said. "I say we go down".

"You're all crazy", Mare cried. "I mean, don't you think there's something a little off about all of this?"

"I think it's the right strategy", Mitch said. "I'll go down".

"Mitch", Terry said quietly. "You're not serious about this are you?"

"It may not look like it, but I think we're safer down there, Terry. We'll be underground, we'll have flashlights, and if we're lucky, no one's going to see us".

"When you put it that way", Roxy said. "I think I'm going down too. I really don't see anything wrong with this. It'll be a hell of a lot easier to get to the other side of the island without any hills or anything".

"It's a long fall, you know", Mare said. "Are you guys planning to jump?"

"There's a ladder", Zane said with a grin. "It's carved into the stone. But go ahead, you're welcome to jump if you want. Anyway, as much as you girls don't want to, majority wins. Let's head on down".

"I don't like this", Terry said softly. "I don't like this at all".

And she didn't. She really didn't. Gazing down that mine shaft, Terry remembered ancient fairy tales about trolls being under bridges and awful things in the forest. They were all associated with the dark. From the get-go, the dark where you were meant to venture. Along with that, she felt a force. It was a strange one that probably existed on the same level as tarot cards and talismans, but a force nonetheless. It was every bit of common sense that remained in the universe, begging her not to go down. Even when it was her turn, the force still wasn't gone.

And so one by one, all with varying levels of hesitance, they made what was quite possibly their biggest mistake yet and descended to the cavernous deaths of whatever lay beneath the island.

The mine shaft was surprisingly cool. As they descended down, the smell of the pine trees outside became the acrid smell of age-old motor oil, sawdust and whatever else had gathered in the shaft over the last millennium. The makeshift ladder carved into the earth was rough, and a few times they nearly slipped, only saved by the head of the person under them keeping them from plummeting to their death. Their flashlights were tucked under their arms as they scaled their way down, giving them the odd feeling of spelunking. Graffiti was littering the ladder passage, some vulgar, some just distorted faces and untidy scrawls of names and conspiracies that stretched around the whole passage. One phrase stuck out in harsh, red paint:

"Stand up and fight the pigs", Mitch read out loud. "We gave away the Panama Canal to the communist niggers".

"People on Cuna Cielo", Mare said dully. "Have too much time on their hands".

After a climb that seemed forever but must have only been two or three minutes, they safely reached the cold, hard earth at the bottom of the shaft. Now that they were at the bottom, the graffiti was in a much greater number, almost like they'd just walked into an art gallery. On the ceiling in bright green paint were the words, "WILD SEVEN LIVES!!!" A little lower from it, on the left wall in faded bubble-letters was, "CURTIS REZ WAS HERE, FAGGOTS". It gave them all a cryptic sense of place. They really did feel like they were going down to the center of the earth.

"Everyone here?" Mitch asked.

"I think we're good", Zane said. "No one turn off your flashlights. We need all the light we can get in here. Everyone ready to move out?"

No one answered, but like they were all reading each other's minds, they set off quickly and would have been swallowed up by the darkness if it weren't for their flashlights. Wooden support pillars lined the shaft as they walked, giving the whole place the eerie feeling of a tomb. Although they were going in a straight line, they had the omnipresent feeling that they were going deeper and deeper underground at every step. Every so often they would reach a corner, and after a hasty moment where everyone tried to reassure themselves they knew where they were going, they kept on course. Corners eventually turned into low-ceilinged passageways that turned into dead ends. Every so often they would have to consult the map, and every so often they would stop completely, unsure of where to go next but still keeping that foreboding silence in the air.

This routine seemed to continue for hours. No one had any real clue of how long they were really down there. Nobody spoke. What they did know though, was that Terry was the first to break the silence.

"This doesn't feel right", she said. She was trying not to lose control, but it was getting harder and harder every second. "Look guys, let's just turn back. I really don't feel right about this".

"Are you kidding?" Tristan said. "This place is a maze. It's hard enough to find our way through. Imagine trying to get back. I feel like a mouse in here".

"Call me crazy, but you seemed pretty eager back there to come down", Mare said. "Terry's right, this was a stupid idea".

"So this is my fault then?" Tristan snapped. "The fact that I wanted to find the quickest route to finish this fucked-up mission is the reason we're here?"

"Hey, you can't talk to her like that", Terry said. "You guys were all for this, and if something goes wrong, you should take responsibility for what happened. It's the only the right thing to do for Christ's sake!"

"So you're blaming this on me then?" Tristan spat. "Seriously, you're blaming this fucking rat-maze mess on me?"

"You know what, Tristan?" Mitch cut in. "Maybe she is. Shut up and get working on that scholarship of yours. Terry didn't do anything to you".

"Hey, fuck you. You can't say that to me. You hardly know me, man. Why are you guys calling me out on stuff when you don't even know me. A few minutes ago I could have called half of you guys my friends, but if you're all just going to turn against me-

"We are cool with each other", Mitch shot back. "I'm just pissed okay! I'm tired of all of this shit and I can hardly breathe down here!"

"Shut up, Tristan", Roxy sighed. "Please, just shut up. You sound like an idiot. And no one's calling you out. You're just overacting".

"Chill out guys", Zane said. "Just-

"Hey".

It was a quiet voice; it wasn't the least bit menacing but it wasn't soothing either. Roxy was eerily reminded of calliope music, the kind they played on carousels that was just as cheerful as it was unnerving. There was a mad scramble for flashlights that lasted only a few seconds, and with light flickering around the tunnel, a small face suddenly shone out from the darkness.

Standing in front of them was the tiny figure of Lea Passington (Girl #11). Short and freckly with furrowed eyebrows and a head of greasy, dark brown hair, she was the kind of girl that was clearly better left alone. From what seemed like the dawn of time, Lea had been situated at the bottom of high school's cruel, brutal hierarchy. And at the very bottom of the social ladder, there wasn't much room for climbing up. Canis canem, that was the phrase for it. Dog eat dog. The idea of meeting another person in the underground sanctum was so strange that all six of the scavengers could only stare out in awe. The tension between the two sides was tense, and at any second, something was bound to happen. The question was what.

Tristan's eyes widened. "Zane, shoot he-

It all happened so fast. Like a natural reflex, Lea's hand rose up from her side with a pistol that glinted in the darkness. She stood there for a second like an old gunslinger in a classic western, but that only lasted for a moment. She pulled the trigger and the deafening crack of gunfire rang out through the shaft. What followed could only be described as a scream of complete agony:

"MY ARM!" Roxy squealed. "MY ARRRRMM! IT HUUUUUURTS!"

With the dim light of flashlights in the dark cavern, the others were only able to see bright red bubbling out from Roxy's arm. A major vein had been hit, and in the gritty luminance of their flashlights, they could see shining blood spit out of the wound and all over the floor of the shaft. It wasn't long before it started to spray out everywhere; speckling their sneakers and making it look like a hard day's painting. Gun smoke filled the air. Flashlights clattered to the floor. Somebody screamed.

"MY ARRRRMMMMMM!"

The shock of the attack was what took the most toll on everyone. After going down into the shaft to avoid everyone, the idea of finding another person down there was almost laughable. And to make matters worse, it had to be a person that wanted to kill them. With the situation dawning on them, everyone's reaction was different. Zane stumbled backwards, struggling to tear his rifle's trap off his shoulder. Mitch reached for his belt and grabbed the pistol, aiming it at Lea and preparing to fire at any second. Terry and Tristan stood there and watched everything with shocked faces like they'd lost control long ago. Mare collapsed to the ground beside her friend in a second, screaming at the top of her lungs but not making any coherent words. And then there was Roxy herself, sprawled out on the ground and blubbering in her blood and tears.

KER-CLANG!

Another gunshot. Raising the pistol in the air like she was kicking off a track race, Lea shot at the beam of the support pillar and sent a saw dusty mist sprinkling down on them. It didn't seem to have much of a purpose besides wearing away at the aged wood. With an unreadable expression on her face, Lea quickly backed up into the darkness, kneeling down and trying to use the playing field to her advantage. Her eyes flickered in the mine shaft, the cold, marble-slits of a cat. She's getting away. She shot her point-blank, in front of all of us, and we're just standing here and letting her back off. What the hell is that about?

"COME BACK HERE!" Zane screamed. "GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!"

Cocking his rifle and not giving a shit that it wasn't meant for close combat, Zane rushed forward and aimed the gun out toward where he'd last seen Lea. The eyes had vanished, but there was no mistaking that quick, metal glint of her handsaw that she just didn't seem to have the common sense to drop. His heart was beating, and for a moment, he thought it was going to burst right out of his chest, or maybe even just stop altogether. There wasn't much light besides the flashlights behind him, but he didn't need much. A headshot, that's all you need. Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead as he scanned his view with sniper's eyes for a clean shot.

"I'm here", another voice said. "I'm…I'm here".

Mitch was at his side with his pistol. He was holding a flashlight in his trembling hands, scanning the darkness in complete terror like some kind of shell-shocked rent-a-cop. His face was scrunched up and his eyes kept closing, almost like he was trying to make everything go away. And it will go away. You can make it go away, Zane. It just happened, it always happens, but you can fix it. Good things turn bad, but you can fix it right up. God damn it, we can take her. She's only one person. Don't be so scared….

"Come on you stupid bitch", Zane spat out into the blackness. He was terrified and for once he wasn't afraid to let it show. "Come out and fight….."

He fired.

It was all happening so fast. With her reflexes lost, the flashlight of Terry Klingerman (Girl #6) fell to the ground and lit up a portion of the shaft's floor in a shaded arc. The flashlight rolled back and forth before settling on the ground, acting like a floor-level spotlight to what was happening. Center-stage, huh? Jesus Christ, this is so awful. And it's not fake or anything. It's really going on….

Terry backed up into the wall, feeling two-sided by the whole thing and also feeling at any second that a bullet could pop her in the head and end her life as a victim of cross-fire. Instead she backed up like a statue against the shaft, wishing the wall would swallow her up and take her away forever. The mainstream wasn't where she should have been. It really wasn't. All her life, she'd been sidelined, backed up against the wall as she was right now. It was a good place to be in high school, especially when you planned on living high school as a complete outcast, but it was different when the principles of dying on an island came into the picture. You could fight. You could run. Or you could die. The choice was yours. How much do you care about people, Terry? How much do you care? You care a lot, dontcha? Thinking about destiny, aren't ya?

Squinting out into the darkness, she made out the shadowy figures of Mitch and Zane fighting off Lea. It was a lost cause, seeing as how none of them could get a clear shot in the darkened mineshaft, and it seemed to be more of a game of chance with which side could shoot the other in a blind roulette. A bullet from Lea's pistol shot out from the depths of the shaft like the darkness had belched it out, grazing across Mitch's cheeks and spitting out dots of blood. He howled and fired a shot from his own pistol that rattled his skinny body. Unless either side worked up the courage to confront the other first, the battle didn't seem to be getting anywhere.

"MY ARRRRMMMM!"

There was the scream again. Terry's eyes narrowed down to the bloody mess on the ground, only dimly illuminated by the flashlights that everyone had dropped in the heat of the moment. Roxy was slumped against the corner, shaking convulsively with her arm looking like it had been deflated. Her mouth was pulled back into a grimace, but besides that, she looked relatively peaceful. Mare was holding a flashlight over the wound, swearing and struggling to wrap a makeshift bandage she'd torn off from the sleeve of her shirt. Her arms were completely drenched in her friend's blood, but this didn't seem to be something she could see. She just kept screaming and screaming.

You could fight, you know. You could definitely help out. You don't have a weapon, but maybe you could just charge her. She's small and-

A body backed up against the wall next to her, narrowly avoiding the whistling sound of a gunshot. Turning to the side, Terry squinted in the dark and tried to get the closest sense she could of who the person was. It was definitely a boy, pretty muscular, with an old-fashioned schoolboy cut of bushy, red hair. And only one person fit that description

"Terry? Is that you?" Tristan whispered.

"Yeah, Tristan it's me".

"I'm…I'm going to try and help the others", he said. He paused for a second. "Look, one of us needs to make sure everyone else gets out of here. Listen, you have the map. And you have the brains to do this. Run. Run and don't stomp until you get back to the ladder. Tear off the corners from the map and drop them as you get to the end. Make a trail so we can find our way back. If you see anyone, don't just stand there. Fucking run for it. You got it?"

"Like a fairy tale", Terry said. The part seemed dreamy to her, almost otherworldly. "When I drop the scraps so we can find our way back, it's like a fairy tale…"

"Right", Tristan said. "Like a fairy tale. You got it?"

"Yeah, I got it".

"Good, we'll see you soon. Get the job done, Terry".

And then he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness and running in the direction of the gunfire. She stood there for a second, instinctively brushing her fingers over the lump that the map made in the pocket of her windbreaker. She dug in and pulled it out, tucking it under her arm but feeling like her feet were disconnected somehow, not-working. She bent down and picked up the flashlight she'd dropped, flashing faint blue light out around the shaft. For a second she considered shining the bulb over toward Roxy, maybe to see just how bad it was, but she couldn't. She was too scared. You don't have to leave. You could stay and fight. You could and you know it, so why don't you just do it?

She didn't know why she couldn't. The simplest things in life really were the hardest to put into words. A lot of things were like that. People overlooked things, never really taking a good glance around to realize that things were at the verge of falling apart. And then there was the violent revolution the world had been thrown into and the people that had started it. You could read about all of that every morning in the newspaper if you chose to. There hadn't been a single night when Terry hadn't lay awake in bed, just thinking about things like this.

She tore a piece from the map and let it flutter to the ground. Please God…

And then Terry somehow found the courage to start running.

It was over. She was dying.

Roxy Patterson (Girl #12) felt like she was strapped to an operating table, spared any kind of numbing anesthetic and kept awake for the whole procedure. She couldn't see, but when you really looked at it, that didn't mean anything. She could feel the soft trickling from her arm as blood poured out, the pain wearing away off slowly as she drifted into shock. She could hear the sound of gunshots behind her. Seeing meant absolutely nothing. In a way, it was better to die in the darkness.

"Hang in there Roxy, you're gonna make it".

Someone was sitting above her. Mare by the sound of it. She was wrapping some kind of cloth around her leg, but with the massive amount of blood she was losing, Roxy couldn't see what it could do. Common sense was drifting away, loose thoughts and memories replacing it. She thought about a lot: Christmases she'd spent at her grandmother's house, plays that she'd seen with her family, sitcoms she'd watched on TV and even ancient commercials that she hadn't thought of in years. Then she heard her mother's voice. Roxy, what are you doing? Get back inside and get changed. You have dress rehearsal tonight and I'm just there's little girls out there who'd love to be in your place. Hurry up, say goodbye to your little friends. We're leaving now…

"You're gonna make it", Mare kept saying. Roxy had the feeling she was crying. "You're going to make it".

KER-THUNK!

A stray bullet from the gunfight blew out one of the fragile beams that supported the shaft above them. Metal casing that barred it to the ceiling shot out in spinning shrapnel while the whole pillar came arcing down in a sharp axe like a carnival ride. It hit Mare squarely in the side, causing her to vanish from Roxy's side and go catapulting through the air on impact. She landed on the opposite side of the shaft, crashing into the wall in a painful face plant before comically sliding all the way down.

Almost on instinct, Roxy reached out for a piece of metal shrapnel that had fallen with her fingers that were pale from blood loss. The strange thing felt abstract in her hands, almost like she'd never picked something up before, but that just seemed commonplace now. She hugged onto the piece of scrap metal tightly, hugging it and feeling it cut into her stomach. Her mother's voice was there again. Say goodbye to your little friends. We're leaving now….

And she was. She was going to leave very, very soon. Glancing up, she watched as a hazy figure danced out of the darkness with a pistol in her hand. It was Lea. There was no mistaking that head of long, gnarled hair and short stature that could hide so easily in the shadows. She was still trying to hide herself in the darkness, struggling to stay just away from Mitch and Zane's sight so the shots wouldn't hit her. There was even a third person in the assault against her now. Tristan, he's here too. By the look of it, a few of the trio's shots were actually getting her pretty good. Her face was grazed with thick lines of blood from bullets slicing by and she was walking with a noticeable limp, almost like she'd been nailed in the foot. Her face was intense, but behind it all, there was the basic feeling that every single one of them had. The feeling of fear.

A bullet shot out of the darkness with a crack like mountain's breaking. Probably from Zane's rifle. It whizzed through the air, streaking across Lea's face and blowing off a decent section of skin below her left eye. Compared to the other shallow grazes on her face, this one was bad. She howled out in pain, her eye squinting as bright, red blood fizzled out and ran down like rainy tears.

"I'LL GET YOU!" Lea screamed. "I'LL GET YOU!"

But she didn't. Instead, she cocked her pistol again and aimed it at the support pillar directly above her. She fired it at the rusty hinges that bolted it to the ceiling, causing it to rain metal like some kind of a freak meteor shower. The support pillar made a horrible whirring sound for a second before falling down in a splintering crash that shook the ground. Spinning around, she aimed again and did the same thing to the next one. The entire shaft rumbled and rocky debris started to rain down from the arched ceiling.

"She sees it's a losing battle", Roxy thought. "She knows she's going to lose so she's making a run for it. She's taking this whole place down".

And there was no way she could let her do that. She'd taken so much from everyone. It seemed like an earthquake was in the shaft now, and this seemed to be enough justification for the others. Mitch, Tristan and Zane quickly abandoned the gunfight and made a frantic run down the tunnel, scurrying up a couple of stray flashlights in their path. They seemed a world away from her, and after a moment, Roxy realized exactly why. They're the people that are going to live…

She shook the thought away. Picking up a flashlight from the ground with her free hand, she waved it in a weak motion around the shaft until she found her. Lea was still there. And only a few feet away too. She was busy trying to knock down a stubborn third pillar, barricading the tunnel in half and sealing herself away from everyone. She can't do that. There's no way you can let her do that….

"Hey bitch", Roxy spat.

Tightening her painful grip on the piece of metal shrapnel, the actress leapt up, thrust out her good arm and slashed the blade across Lea's already wounded shoulder. There was an awful hissing sound punctured by a howl as the smaller girl collapsed to the ground. With strange laces poking out, Roxy was bemused at the sight of stitches there. How the hell did she find the time to stitch herself out here?

But that was beside the point. It was over. All the searching, all the running, it had all come down to this. The air suddenly feeling very hot around her, Roxy felt like laughing into the darkness at the senselessness of it. The sound of it would bounce all over the shaft, and considering how she couldn't see much of anything anymore, nobody would hear her. Nobody at all. But it's done now. It's all done….

In front of her, Lea was opening her mouth but couldn't seem to make words come out. Her mouth sneering into an unpleasant smile, she grabbed her handsaw and knelt up before arcing it back into an obscure baseball swing. Watching it all happen, Roxy didn't even blink. She felt like she was on stage again, trapped under those harsh lights, unable to break character until the very last moment. But there wasn't any forced line-reading this time. This was real, and for once, she wasn't one of those characters that she pretended to be, trapped in the vessel of some make-believe stage person that her parents had forced her to be. In death, none of that mattered. This is who you are, this is really who you are. Time to put some good in the worl-

A gasp of breathe. And then it was over.

There was no word to describe what Mare Ewing (Girl #3) felt when she saw it happen. Staring up awestruck from the ground and knocked out the pain she'd been feeling from her flight across the room, she could only gawk at the image of Lea's handsaw cleanly decapitating Roxy Patterson. With black hair sweeping upward like a fan was beating through it, her head flew through the air with bright, arterial blood splashing around the shaft like a fire hose gone crazy. And even with her head so small during death, there really was an unbelievable amount of blood stored in there.

With a thudding sound that rocked the ground, the head came down and knocked against the wall beside where Mare was sitting. Yelping out and jumping backwards, she felt a wave of frantic revulsion when she saw those cold eyes staring out at her. They couldn't even see anymore, but they seemed like they were staring right into her. Right to the bone.

It doesn't make sense", she thought. "It doesn't make any fucking sense at all! Just a day ago we were all pumped up for some stupid beach trip and now something like this can happen and take us all away! We shouldn't be doing this. We should all be back home, worrying about dating or college or if our parents know we're doing drugs or something. That's where we're supposed to be. This isn't right!"

There wasn't any time to grieve. There wasn't even anytime to think. A figure thumped into her. From the whole aftershock of what had just happened, it took a second for her to realize that someone was staring right at her. They were holding a flashlight in one of their hands, a pistol in the other. Their shaggy hair was tangled and clumped with dirt and blood. Mitch. The others were standing behind him, and if they didn't move soon, there was a good chance that the falling ceiling would end up burying them. Then so be it…

"MARE, WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!" Mitch screamed. "THIS WHOLE FUCKING PLACE IS COMING DOWN!"

"BUT SHE GOT HER!" Mare screamed. Her voice was trembling but she didn't care. "SHE JUST….SHE JUST TOOK HER AWAY LIKE SHE WAS NOTHING. YOU CAN'T DO THAT. THOSE FUCKERS….THEY JUST….THE JUST KEEP TAKING AWAY FROM US! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT ABOUT, MAN? THEY CAN'T DO THAT!"

"MARE, LISTEN TO ME!" Mitch screamed. "IF WE DON'T GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW, WE'RE ALL GOING TO FUCKING DIE TOO! DID YOU SEE TERRY?"

"She left", Tristan muttered. It sounded like he was coughing on something. "She's fine, let's just get out of here".

She didn't move voluntarily. If it wasn't for Zane grabbing onto her shoulder and dragging her down the passageway, she probably would have died in that mineshaft. The world rumbled around her, shaking her to the core, but she could hardly feel it. All she felt was the repetitive drum beat of her breathe, slowing and speeding up as they zigzagged down that maze of corridors. When she looked back at it later, Mare realized that she should have been thinking about a lot more. It only made sense, because in the grand scheme of things, there certainly really was a lot to think about. Blood had been shed, bonds had been broken, and worst of all, someone had left the world forever without any whim or reason to it. This wasn't something she could just brush off and pretend not to care about with a good cigarette. This wasn't something where she could blow energy off afterwards with a quick steal down at the convenience store by the school. Hell, she couldn't even talk to Roxy anymore…

There wasn't any grand-scale sense of philosophy in her thoughts. Instead, Mare thought that same phrase over and over:

They can't do that…

And then the four of them were gone, turning a corner in the darkness and resigned to an unknown fate.

Listening to the screams and clamor of hands scrambling up the mine shaft, Lea sat in the dark and cringed. This wound was bad. The first-aid kit couldn't cover it this time either. Even if she ended up winning, the probability of her actually living more than a week was pretty slim. And who knows how bad the pain's going to get in a few hours?

A mess of debris had sealed her off from the other side of the mine shaft where the others had entered. It was a haphazard mess, mainly pillars and metal debris that had fallen and barricaded her from getting hurt. Grimacing as she pulled her leg free from a board of wood it had been lodged under, she took in a deep breath. Good to go.

Feeling angrier than she ever had in her life, Lea felt something brushing against her leg. She only had the dim realization that it was Roxy's head, but she felt furious enough to tear the entire shaft down piece by piece. Swinging back her foot, she roared and kicked the head like some kind of soccer ball. It didn't have the same effect, but she did get a satisfying thud that led to the soft crack of her bony cradle. She tried kicking her again, but the head had vanished into the darkness. Good

There was something that needed to be taken care of. It needed to be taken care of it immeadidly, but at least it would give her time to rest. She'd fled from them a few hours ago when her life had been put on the line, but with some luck, they would still be sitting duck long enough for her to return and get her revenge.

Lea turned and started walking, gathering her thoughts along the way.

Eliminated

(Girl #12) Patterson, Roxy

22 Students Remaining

A/N: Sorry for the huge gap between updates. I've been gone literally the entire summer and I've had hardly any access to a computer. A new poll has started on my profile, so vote if you want.