as situations go, this was pretty fucked up. as he weaved his way threw the trees, boy#12 ben collins realized he had screwed things up big time for himself. he had been in a good group, with people he could trust, and he threw it all away. and for what? because he had a slight doubt about kyle. kyle couldn't kill anyone. it wasn't like him. ben didn't even know why he flipped out. now he stuck here, in the sweltering heat, with only a chainsaw that was too heavy to use for protect him. what was he going to do now? he was weak, small, an there was bound to be a loony with a gun near him. that would be just his luck. ben picked up a small stone from the ground, and chucked it into the trees, hearing it bounce off the tree and hit the ground. ben also heard a faint scrabbling noise from behind the tree. he quickly grabbed the chainsaw and his pack, and climbed under a large bush. he could see the direction that the noise came from. it slowly got closer. ben held his breath, scared that the person may hear it. there was a line of brown, with a flash of blonde, and ben had a faint idea who it was. if it was who he thought it was, it would be safe. ben slowly crouched, and watched as boy#18 james hill stepped into the small clearing. he had lost his blazer, which ben recalled he was wearing on the bus, and in his hands was......a mac-10? ben gawped at the gun, as james scanned the area. ben decided to chance it, and stood up. james jumped, and pointed the gun at ben.
"hey james....chill out....it's me, collins." ben took a step closer.
"what weapon did you get?" james barked.
"a chainsaw, but it's too heavy for me to carry." james lowered the mac slightly.
"too heavy?"
"yeah. look....don't kill me man. i don't wanna die!" ben looked at james, who seemed to be thinking. if ben knew what was going on in james mind, he would have ran for his life. james realized that ben couldn't use his weapon, and he was a general dweeb and he wouldn't even think about going for his gun. might as well keep him alive.
"sorry..." james took a step forward. "just have to be careful. my group backstabbed me."
"who was in your group?"
"jim, self, kennely, chris. we had a plan to escape, well, i think we did... we made a bomb. it backfired. chris got shot by rymer, and adam set off the bomb to kill sam. but he trapped us on the island. i reckon it was a clever plan to get all our weapons, weaken us, lower our moral, then he would bump us off. no-one believed me."
"i believe you." ben held out his hand. james hesitated, then shook it.
"what's your story?"
"fuck. god damn piece of shit. fuck........fuck!" boy#11 george salter stared at the bunker, which lay just ahead of him, just across the road which cut threw the trees. he could almost smell it. he wasn't sure how close he could get before his collar blew. he had been sitting there, just staring over at the bunker for at least ten minutes, and the heat of the sun was getting to him. he didn't know where he was, but it was somewhere tropical. he needed somewhere where he could have a quiet nap, a rest for a while. if he remembered correctly, there was a shack a bit down the road, maybe he could have a rest there? george slowly got up, using the shotgun as a crutch. he slowly began to walk away from the bunker, even though his true objective was inside. miss kindon. she was the one that chose the class, she was the one who picked the bus with michelle...it was her falt that michelle was dead. he was gonna find a way in that bunker, and was gonna shove the shotgun so far down her neck she would be shitting pellets for a year. but there was one main problem with that plan. the collars prevented him from just storming in there, and he needed someway to find out how to get them off, or disable them. he also had no idea how to do that. george slowly moved towards the shack, which was no more than a garden shed. the window was boarded up, and the door had a crude padlock on it. george lifted the shotgun, and with one heavy blow with the butt, knocked the lock off, and it fell uselessly to the floor. he pulled the flimsy door open and stepped inside. it was very dark, and he grabbed a small, heavy object (a brick?) and propped the door open with it. he quickly grabbed the torch out of his pack, and did a quick sweep. nothing, a few bricks, but it was mostly empty. george slowly slid himself down the back wall, facing the open door. he almost threw his pack to the side, and rested the spas 12 over his legs. he sighed deeply. he shoulda thought it out more, and not just ran away from the girls like that. it was foolish, but he couldn't go back. he didn't even know why, it would just feel wrong to go back, not unless he had taken miss kindon down first. he was going to get that bitch, he'd find a way, but he'd do it. he'll make her pay.
========== thirty-seventh hour 19 contestants remaining ==============