In The Core: Games VII
Upper Grounds - 12:26 AM
"No!" Lev shouts before he can stop himself. His hand darts out in front of him as if that action alone will be enough to make the shadow obey. He takes two fast steps forward, but he's nowhere near close enough to protect him.
He watches Jared turn as the figure maintains its quick approach. There's another shout and Lev's throat feels dry enough to believe that's where it came from. The task at hand is forgotten. The wall behind Lev is, for a moment, meaningless. He tells his feet to move but it feels like they've been encased in the mud below.
Jared's hands fly out and Lev catches a glimpse of blonde hair beneath the moonlight. The contestant's face comes into view along with the mace that's clutched tight in both hands. Somehow, Jared's outstretched palms find 002's chest mid-swing. Lev can't see whether the weapon connects. Jared remains standing though he stumbles back a couple steps. Unfortunately, 002 manages to do the same.
002's eyes scan along the shore and Lev's follow. In every direction he can pick up enigmatic shadows but it's impossible to tell which are people. A few of them appear to move away from what's happening. Lev thinks there must be at least a half dozen. That's more than he had come to rightfully expect.
Jared's hands remain outstretched as 002 moves around him. Lev's legs finally allow him forward and he pulls Jared back another few steps. Lev stands a half-step ahead of him, the hatchet that had moments ago been an afterthought now firm between them and 002. In the corner of Lev's eye he can see Vi who's creeping ever slowly towards them. He wants to shout at them to stop moving.
002 glares at Lev with his chin tipped skyward. He doesn't seem fearful of the new development, if anything his expression betrays annoyance. When 002 steps forward again, the bloodstains on his pants becoming visible past the weeds, the narrowed lips make perfect sense even before Lev recognizes him. It's half of the pair that was hunting Aviv; the same half that killed his own partner barely twelve hours ago.
In a split second, 002's eyes move from Lev to the side and he doesn't have time to react. Instinct pushes him forward but 002 isn't there anymore. A high-pitched scream cuts through the near-silence drenching the shadows around them.
Lev knows who it is without even looking.
Jared moves before his brain can process what's happening.
He doesn't have a weapon, in fact he has nothing but two outstretched hands and pure instinct. Still, Jared rushes forward the moment he sees the blonde man move. He knows what's in that direction even before the scream reaches him.
Jared grabs him from behind and shoves 002 to the ground. He grimaces at the thud that comes next but the pounding behind his ears at least muffles it. Jared stares past the top of 002's head at Vi, whose eyes are wide and frozen in fear. She doesn't move back. They didn't move at all. She's exactly where he left them.
Where he left…
002 flips to the side and presses himself up with both hands. The mace is still steady in his hands and his expression has tightened with irritation that even Jared can't miss. He watches for a moment with curiosity before once again darting forward. Jared doesn't have time to think, which is likely the only thing that saves him as the mace arcs across the air between them.
He's not a fighter. He's never gotten in so much as a playground shoving match that he can recall.
The cold metal stings as it lands against Jared's hands but that only lasts a second. The weapon stops midway between the pair, 002's fingers wrapped around the handle and Jared's just over halfway up it. The tip of the mace is poised at Jared's chest but it doesn't move closer. He finds that it's surprisingly easy to hold on.
Until it isn't.
002's surprise doesn't last very long. Likely only a few seconds have passed before he pulls the weapon hard back towards himself and Jared's pulled along with it. One of the wing's tips hits against Jared's inner arm. 002 pulls again, this time with less force and Jared finds that it's even easier to keep his balance. He's taller than the other contestant with broader shoulders and an overall larger build. Still, 002's grip doesn't budge.
And when he shoves the weapon towards Jared, it's obvious that the difference in strength isn't near as wide as one would expect.
Jared's immediately knocked off balance as he tries to keep hold of the weapon. He manages one step backwards before the tip of the mace lands in his gut and knocks the air from his lungs. Jared coughs on his next breath but manages to push 002 back a second later. He twists to the side to free his weapon and Jared doubles over as pain bruises his stomach.
002 wastes no time. As Jared recovers, he launches himself at Vi and another scream pierces through the air. She dodges the mace as it swipes towards them but she doesn't have anything to defend herself. They drop to the ground to avoid the next blow but they just keep coming.
"Help!"
Jared frees his arms from around his stomach. He lunges forward and tackles 002 from behind but his grip on the weapon doesn't falter. His frantic eyes travel back to where Lev had been moments ago but he's not there. Jared looks out at the windswept weeds, at the shadows he knows are there because he and Vi ran past them to get to Lev mere moments ago.
"Why aren't you helping!?" Jared bellows at no one in particular, his voice louder than he's ever heard it. In the stillness that surrounds them, it's all encompassing. Sweat drips down his neck and across his forehead as he struggles with 002. He doesn't understand. He doesn't know why any of them would let him or Vi get hurt. He doesn't get why anyone would want to kill them.
He simply doesn't understand.
Aviv doesn't reach for Kasper's hand as he rushes forward. Part of him isn't sure that he'll follow, none of Aviv is certain that he wants him to. He simply has to move.
The guilt of those few words has already eaten him alive.
He has nothing to help with - no weapon, no measurable amount of strength or stamina - but he's the first one forward. Aviv hears footsteps behind him but he doesn't stop to see who it is. His mind already has its suspicions. For the few seconds that it takes for Aviv to cross the weeds, no one else moves. He doesn't know if there's anyone else here to help them, only that he's here and that means he has to try.
"What can I do?" Aviv calls desperately as he reaches Jared. He's locked the blonde boy down from behind but the situation looks precarious at best. Aviv recognized the contestant almost as soon as he'd attacked. He remembers the bounty period. He remembers what he saw from the safety of the security room and can still see the blood on 002's pants as a morbid reminder.
He stares down at them and he doesn't know what to do. Simply being this close to the blonde makes his heart pick up speed and sweat drench the back of his neck.
Still, Aviv's not going to bear apathetic witness to another murder. As much as his legs shake, he forces them to stay planted in the mud below.
Jared's neck cranes upward with panicked eyes. His cheeks are red from exertion as he fights to keep 002 on the ground. Jared's hands each capture one wrist and he's using his body weight to his advantage. By the looks of it, even with the size difference, Jared's not going to be able to hold him for much longer.
"Grab a leg," Kasper instructs as he dives to the ground beside Jared. "Keep hold of him as long as you can."
Aviv nods though no one's looking at him. He moves in carefully and hesitates several seconds before he daintily grabs 002 by the ankle. The contestant kicks out wildly causing him to lose grip, speaking in French that's far too quick for Aviv to make out. He more than likely doesn't want to know what's being said.
Aviv takes a deep breath and tries again, this time pouring all his weight on top of his lower leg. He closes his eyes for a moment, bracing for a crack or pop that signifies he's gone too far. Even after all that's happened, all that he's seen at the hands of the blondes and then this one boy, Aviv has tears in his eyes at the thought of hurting him.
He looks up as Kasper tries to wrestle the mace from his hand. Beside him, Vi's taken hold of the opposite leg and Aviv is grateful for someone else to look at. He reminds himself again and again of what 002 was trying to do. He closes his eyes and remembers the blood below the security room, the fear in Celene's eyes, the terror in his own chest as he was hunted down for hours.
For some reason none of that matters right now.
Aviv's lip begins to tremble as Kasper finally gets hold of the mace. Jared has taken to sitting directly on 002's back to hold him down as well as gripping his other hand. Aviv can feel the contestant still pushing against him. He can see the random pulses as his other limbs fight for freedom. It's clear as the night sky how hard he's trying simply to get away.
There are tears running down his cheeks when his eyes lock with Kasper's. His expression softens, the look in his eyes asking a question that really doesn't matter right now. Aviv nods. I'm okay. It's a lie. He doesn't want this to happen. He knows without a doubt what Kasper is going to do.
Aviv doesn't want to watch.
"You don't need to hurt him." The steady voice comes during a pause of frantic shouting and everything seems to stop. Aviv looks up along with the other three. Even 002 seems to stop fighting for a moment. No one knows what to do.
Then, he asks again. "Please. Don't hurt him."
Aviv finds the source of the voice as Lev steps back into the shadows. There's someone else nearby, a taller figure that Aviv can't see in the dim moonlight. Lev doesn't stay to make sure that they do as he's asked. It's like he knows how unlikely it is.
Aviv is the first to turn back, his eyes locking with Kasper's. He tries to speak but feels guilty doing even that much. This is the contestant that made things so difficult for him and Kasper, that would have killed them if given a scrap of a chance and likely still would. Yet, Lev's words have shattered any thin resolve against him.
"Please." Only one word escapes before Aviv sets his lips back together, his eyes once again downcast. He can't blame Kasper when he does it. He can't hate him.
He won't let himself.
Something heavy rolls against Aviv's foot. When he looks down, it's the mace that had moments ago been in 002's then Kasper's hand. Aviv kicks it behind him until he can't see it anymore. When he looks again to make sure it's far away, he sees a clear plastic bag peering halfway out of 002's pocket. Aviv picks it up before half-regretfully tossing it towards Kasper.
He catches it and stares down at the label with confusion before looking back at Aviv. What Aviv's suggesting doesn't feel right, but it's certainly the lesser of evils in the situation. They can't let him go, not knowing what he's willing to do. Aviv can't bring himself to think about killing him even if he's not the one holding the weapon.
Maybe there's a third option.
"You don't have to hurt him," Aviv says softly and the intent soon becomes obvious. Kasper carefully removes several zip ties from the pouch. Even in the dimness, Aviv can see them clearly and that only makes him feel more guilty.
Eventually, Kasper nods. "Get his hands behind his back."
It's hard to tell if Jules facing him is a coincidence.
His eyes stare intently forward in Vito's direction, but at this point even he understands that it's pointless to struggle. There's already a zip tie tightened around Jules' wrists and the four contestants have flipped him from his stomach to sit upright. The boy who he'd watched with Aviv for the past few days gets a foot in the chest before he gets the second tie around the ankles, but that's the only fight Jules puts up.
Him and the largest of the four lift Jules to his feet and half-drag, half-carry him to the nearby dock. Part of Vito wonders if they plan on throwing him over, but that thought quickly fizzles out. They pin him to the dock's edge by wrapping another zip tie around a plank of wood then securing his wrists to it.
They're making a mistake. It's all Vito can think but the thought is as far away as most have been today. He can see the wheels turning in Jules' brain. He knows that he's not giving in no matter that he's stopped the profanities. The look in his eyes is anything but scared and without an ounce of desperation.
It's angry. It's irritated. If Vito had to name it, he'd call it vengeful. They should kill him.
He watches Jules' face, waiting for the guilt that should follow that statement.
Several minutes later, it still hasn't come.
The trek up the ladder was as blurry as the darkness now surrounding him. Vito knows what they're up here to do. He isn't hopeful like the others no doubt crouching scared around him. If this group leaves Jules tied up, it's as clear as a death sentence. Lev no doubt won't leave him there.
Vito doesn't know how this will start. Lev was clear that he'll know and that he should stay in the shadows until it does. What Lev doesn't understand is that Vito doesn't plan on staying. The only weapon they were able to find for him was a broken off table leg that now sits limp in his grip.
His mind has accepted what will happen here. Vito isn't going to stop it, especially knowing that he has little power to do so. The game goes on. People die. It's simply the way that things are here. Vito holed up in the security office for all this time because deep down he already knew that. The Cut isn't something he can will away by pretending it doesn't exist.
There's more evil in the world than he ever knew.
There's Damien.
There's The Cut.
There's Jules whose eyes are still pointed in his direction with a stare that days ago would have broken Vito's heart yet now makes him feel so very empty.
Somehow it took Vito being surrounded by sins to realize that prayer won't do shit to push them away. He can be the best person he knows how to be. He can take the blame and hope that a second chance will turn his brother's life around but that doesn't make it true. Vito can bury himself away in a tiny room but people will still be dying outside his door. He can think every hopeful thought about Jules but that won't clean the blood from his pants or the smirk from his lips.
Nothing changes just because he wants to see or be that sliver of good in the world.
As long as people like Jules exist, people like Damien are free, nothing ever will. Vito only wishes that he'd known that fact as he trembled against the blood splattered walls of his school gymnasium.
He watches Jules for a moment longer before looking away. In person, it's somehow easier to see the difference. Vito looks at the four others he can see, the way their eyes flit to Jules with fear yet not hatred. They're not like Jules, not even close.
They know mercy even if soon it won't matter.
Good people change nothing.
Vito flinches as a breath comes from beside him. When he looks over to find Lev, his body instinctively moves further away. Vito trusted him to keep watch as he slept but does he really know anything about Lev? He never would have guessed what brushed off his lips mere hours ago. This was his idea, his plot to lie to the rest of the set only to trap and murder them.
In too many ways, he's no better than Jules.
Where does that leave Vito, the right hand man that followed him up here? He never agreed to help. Vito said nothing during the announcement to stop the plan in its tracks. He took the makeshift weapon, he ran at Lev's heels down the hallway. Maybe he didn't outright say yes, but every action has added another letter to his answer.
The twitch of his weaponed hand comes far too quickly as Lev approaches. Vito glances down as the flash of wondering shoots across his mind. How hard would it be? Would anything change? And, most importantly, when did cruelty become the only answer?
Lev's words are so soft, so fast, that he almost doesn't hear them. Vito's forehead wrinkles as the contestant turns away again before he can process the instruction. "What?"
Lev doesn't return but seconds later that doesn't matter. Vito did hear him, he simply doesn't understand what the words mean. He turns them over in his head as Lev takes off further down the beach. The darkness swallows him quickly and Vito still doesn't understand.
When it opens, tell them to run.
He stands frozen another second before he breaks into a sprint after him. There's no reason for his steps. He barely catches a glimpse of a shadow that could be Lev as he follows the crushed weeds for several meters. Vito skids to a stop far behind the moonlit figure, but something feels off. He doesn't venture closer, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach prevents it.
Lev stands still with his feet a mere meter from the water's edge. It seems to last for several minutes, but Vito is unable to take a single breath. In one fast movement, the hatchet disappears from Lev's side and he sees Lev raise his arm out in front of him. Before Vito can process anything else, he watches the hatchet dig deep into Lev's forearm.
There's a flash of silver, a disc as round as the moon above them that appears suddenly in front of Lev's body.
The loudest sound he's ever heard sends Vito to the ground. The beautiful shoreline disappears into crumbling brick that surrounds them in every direction. Straight ahead, a gap several meters high starts to fall further open. He can't see Lev. The only thing that fills Vito's vision is dust as he clamours for steady ground.
"Run!" Vito shouts, though the word is drenched in grit. He swallows down a thick breath, clearing his throat onto the ground beside him before lifting his head again. The words that had moments ago felt meaningless have suddenly become everything. His head throbs and his limbs sting with numbness that, when he looks down, is animated with blood. They need to know.
The set is open.
"Run!"
The shockwave reaches Savannah first and she quickly loses the fight to remain standing. Dust pours out towards her and she lunges in the only direction she can think of. Savannah doesn't think the girl knows she's so close. Suddenly that doesn't matter when all she hears is thunder.
Savannah grabs 006 and pushes her to the ground beneath her as debris rains down around them. It smells like fire. The entire shoreline looks like clouds but feels like razor blades as it surrounds them. 006 turns quickly to face Savannah, her eyes frantic whether it be from the sound or the unexpected visitor.
As the sound disappears, a voice cuts through the dust and the single word catches her attention. Savannah pulls 006 to her feet beside her, though both of them still feel unsteady on the mud. She can't pinpoint where the explosion nor the voice came from. She doesn't know what they should be running from.
Savannah looks up and the panic calms just enough to give way to confusion. It's not the sky she sees above them, but an off white sort of ceiling. She follows it down until it turns to grey brick. Not far from them, Savannah hears more rumbling and starts to the ground but this time it's 006 who pulls her up.
"There!" 006 says. Savannah doesn't know whether it's on purpose or coincidental that she's brought along for the first few steps. By the time 006 lets go of her hand, however, Savannah knows what she saw and she doesn't slow down. At the center of the light-coloured brick not too far away is more darkness. It takes a bit longer for Savannah's brain to catch up to her feet, but when it does her pace just becomes more frantic.
The sky's not real.
The shore's not real.
It's a wall.
It's broken.
Her thoughts come in fragmented sentences but each one spurs Savannah further forward. She follows 006 through the dusted rain and ignores the burning that dries on her skin. When 006 stumbles a few steps ahead, Savannah steadies her. She doesn't have time to figure out why. There's a chance to get out and that's all that matters.
Her feet slap against the mud as the gap opens up in front of them. Neither one hesitates, not when a brick falls dangerously close behind them or at any point afterwards. Those few words repeat over and over in Savannah's mind. She can see them reflected back in 006's each time she glances back.
There's a chance.
Rory screams as someone grabs hold of her arm. She gasps as she's pulled forward, every inch of skin painful as dust falls around her. Her head spins from the fall to the ground. She doesn't know if she hit her head or if merely the sound was enough. She's never heard anything that loud.
Her face is wet with tears but she's unable to yank her arm free. Panic finally opens her eyes but the flash of green at her side doesn't register. She screams again, the words meant to beg but she's not sure for what. Rory's feet stumble along against her will. All she can see is dust. All she can hear is the rumbling that only seems to get closer.
She's there.
The explosion is what's ended most nightmares since Rory saw her school on the news, its walls caved in and smoke still settling on the manicured gardens. She'd never gone back to that place, but in her dreams it'd become so familiar. Rory can picture it behind the dust clouds. She can see the crumbling walls and her mind searches for the one person that she knows is already dead.
Rory starts to look down but even that motion is dizzying. What will it be? Police sirens or a second bomb strapped to her own chest with a padlock? Her eyes feel as foggy as a dream, but there's one difference. Rory can still feel the nails that dig deep into her wrist. No one's ever held her as the ground shook beneath her feet.
She's always been alone. That's the only thing about her nightmares that's never once changed.
Rory stops pulling. She reaches forward with her free hand shaking amidst the debris. The next time she trips, it's the only thing able to catch her fall.
"Rory!" She looks up with fearful tears swimming in her eyes. They lean in close and pull her up beneath her shoulder. She stands frozen, her legs shaking far too violently to hold her. Her head dips down as the tears start to fall. There's nothing Rory can do to stop them.
"Come on." There's urgency in their voice but nothing more. Rory takes a gulp of air but it comes up again quickly in several raspy coughs. She stumbles forward a few more steps but is unable to even feel her body beneath her. The roar is getting closer. They're heading towards it when they should be running away.
"It's the wrong way," Rory sobs but not a single word is clear enough to understand. The grip on her arm tightens and pulls her close until her body is pressed right against theirs. They pause and Rory can't stop herself from sinking into the tight embrace, the tears coming ever faster.
"I've got you," Val says loudly over the surrounding sounds. "Look."
Rory forces her eyes to rise and blinks back as many tears as she can. Over Val's shoulder she can see is a wall of grey brick that she doesn't recognize. Her gaze rises further and it turns almost white as it coats the sky above them. She doesn't understand. Her eyes return almost all the way to the ground before she sees it - a gaping hole in the brick and the darkness that lies behind it.
"Val," she whispers, but her voice is shaking too much to continue. I'm scared.
Their grip on her tightens. "Trust me?"
She squeezes their hand. It's the only answer she can give and she hopes that they understand. Val grips one hand on her shoulder and guides her further forward. The darkness opens up in front of them. Rory hadn't realized how close it was. She glances back with fresh panic in her eyes. She remembers her answer.
Val quickens their pace and they move with their shoulders all but pressed together. The whole time Rory keeps her eyes on them as bricks fall around them. I trust you. Deep breath. Another. Finally she is able to look ahead. Her footsteps don't feel nearly as uneven as they breach the new darkness.
It's nothing like the inside. The grass is thick and green even by moonlight. There are dense trees far in the distance and a short fence much closer. Rory's eyes watch the strange terrain as they run. Her legs are still shaking but she doesn't have to lean on Val as much. It's so different. The island is gone.
…the island.
Val gasps and they both stop midstep. She doesn't recognize the sharp sound that cuts around them nor the whirring movement that starts suddenly. Rory's eyes frantically search the moonlit field and round shadows rush around them. She glances up a moment later as more shadows descend.
"Down!" She doesn't need the instruction as Val pulls her to the ground. This time she recognizes the sound that shoots in their direction. There's more of them further off though it's impossible to tell where exactly they come from.
Rory screams as pain shoots up her hand with the next sound. Val pulls her up without a word as blood slips through the fingertips that grab at her wound. Her feet don't obey when she tells them to run. The tips of her boots hit the ground but all she can focus on is the bile locked at the back of her throat.
They're shooting at us.
"Rory, come on!" Val shouts. She can hardly hear them. Rory lets go of her hand and holds onto their shoulder as they run. She doesn't know where they're going. The shots have paused but for how long? They need to go back. Rory hopes they're going back.
They're escaping. That fact dawns on her only now and she forces her feet to keep going. She meant the answer she gave earlier. She can't see through her tears or through the painful fog that's coated her mind. Even if she could look back, she's not sure she'd know which direction they're headed.
She trusts Val. She has to.
She wants to.
The gunshots start again. Rory pushes Val to the ground with both hands as agony pulses across her hand. Val reaches for her as she pauses. Her head spins so fiercely that that alone should be enough to send her to the grass beside them.
It doesn't. Val's frantic reach is the thing that finally grounds her, but by then it's too late.
Rory falls to the ground as unimaginable pain rips across her chest. Her hand is all but forgotten as both arms press against the fresh wound. She can't even scream. When she opens her mouth, her chattering teeth only force it shut again. She can't breathe. She doesn't know if she's even tried to.
"Rory?" Val's voice is frantic and frees the scream from her throat. The dark night hides the red she can feel wetting her chest. Each inhale is torture. Each breath is met with an ending shriek that vibrates in her chest and hurts more yet she can't stop a single one. "Rory!?"
She takes their hand as it tries to move to her wound and squeezes it as hard as she can. In her mind she tells them to go. In the same suffering breath she begs them to stay. In reality Rory says none of these things as she's pulled from the ground once again.
"Help!" Val shouts as they force Rory to her feet. She all but collapses on top of them, her body curling in as another scream rips from her throat. They saw the bullet hole in her uniform. They can still see the blood now covering it and pouring like a thin waterfall down her chest. Val forces themself to look away as panic bites at the remaining bits of sense still left in them. They adjust Rory so that her arms are around their shoulders. Thankful, she holds on as they begin to run again. "Help us! Help!"
They're moving at a fraction of the speed from before. Val doesn't know where they're trying to go but instinct pulls them further from the wall. They let her get shot. Her screams are their fault. She trusted them and they're not going back to the set just because they're scared.
She's not dead. If they take her back, she'll die there.
But where else can they go?
Val stumbles forward with Rory falling more and more limp with every step. The screams turn to pathetic grunts with each movement no doubt aggravating her pain. They want to stop. They don't want to listen to the cries that continue so close to their ear. Val can't stop. They can't let her die.
The more steps they take, the more gunshots that follow.
Only a few of them are close.
More screams, none of them close.
However, it's too dark to know exactly how far.
Val keeps running though their pace slows by the step. They can feel a pulsing in their palms that wasn't there moments ago but they have to ignore it. It's not painful, more of a warmth spreading up their arms. They keep going. Their head feels like it's being filled with gauze, their every thought gone before they can process it.
The gunshots aren't continuous in their direction. Whoever they belong to, they don't seem to be aiming at them. That's the only comfort right now - the fact that if someone wanted to kill them, they'd both already be dead.
The next time Val trips, it takes them to the ground. They cradle Rory against their shoulder but standing is impossible. They adjust their feet underneath them but their knees refuse to straighten. It feels like they're falling asleep but somehow that doesn't scare them. At the back of their mind are Rory's screams but they're so distant. She's so still in their grip.
Val lowers her to the ground. Their head lulls to their chest and their eyes close for a moment before they force them back open. Even with their lids wide open it feels like they're half-asleep. Rory doesn't move. They watch her chest rise and fall. She's not dead. They glance around with their lips parted, another desperate call for help at the tip of their tongue but no energy to send it forward.
Figures loom in their periphery and much larger ones in the night sky above. Gunshots and persistent whirs storm around the pair as they lay unmoving in the thick grass. Val looks back and somehow the wall is still so close. They glance up and it disappears as they fall limply to the grass. The last thing that Val remembers before their head dips down again is how different the stars look behind the dust cloud.
The struggling stopped before it even started.
Jules watches the dust settle around him with a tremble in his legs that he prays not a soul will see. His fingers have long gone numb along with most of his arms from being stretched out behind him. His head aches from where it hit against the wall, the explosion's shockwaves giving him no choice of where to land.
The wall that had always been there yet that he'd never known about.
The calm that surrounds him is fresh, born out of the desperation that followed the explosion. In the seconds that followed, many had rushed past Jules in a mad dash for the giant hole in the wall. He's thankful that his plea to be freed was more than likely swallowed by the crumbling bricks. Not a single contestant paused to even look at him.
He has every right to hate them.
In the days before Jules thought little of them, perhaps pitied them if anything. They're extras in his highlight reel, the people who had the unfortunate luck of being selected alongside him. Jules had no reason to hate most of them besides perhaps Celene and that problem has been long since dealt with.
Now, he can't say the same. Not even the gunshots shattering the night air can compare to the animosity burning deep in his core. They're nothing when faced with the absolute torment of being chained like an animal while the rest run for safety.
They're scared enough to tie him up rather than face him in a fair fight. They're delusional enough to take one guy's word as gospel and not "hurt him" but rather incapacitate him as if that's kinder. They're desperate enough to believe that there's an escape yet not one of them cared if he was left behind.
For apparently being so noble and righteous, they seemed perfectly happy to leave him to the crumbling set.
Jules can see the night sky peeking from behind the wall. Hell, he's close enough to see the outlines of trees far beyond the gap and the grass that, even from here, looks so much greener than the blades itching his ankles. He shuffles himself a half-inch further from the dock and pain rips through his numb wrists.
He wants to scream.
They wouldn't care.
It took four of them to hold him, yet Jules can't even revel in that victory. He's bottom rung in their eyes, a liability because he played by the fucking rules like he was supposed to. Even now with the set blown wide open, even now when there's a chance they could all get out, even now they're scared. They're scared of him and the only thing Jules can do is laugh because nothing else is even remotely acceptable.
Let them leave.
They're only proving him right.
He doesn't have to leave. His life isn't in danger from this game.
He's not scared of them. He's not scared of anything even as stray bricks fall dangerously close to his skull. He's not powerless. He's Jules and that's always had to be good enough.
It always has been. He reminds himself in a voice so loud it covers the next round of gunfire. It always will be.
I don't need them.
Yet a dust-coated figure slips by and Jules has every instinct to call out to them. His expression twists with both the fear of staying here and the urge to hide any such emotion from marring his face. He gasps as a hunk of debris lands mere centimeters from his foot. The gap is widening. It's coming closer. If Jules doesn't get out of the way it could easily crush him and no amount of hatred is going to change that.
"Over here!" He shouts but his words too are lost to the roar of debris. Jules swallows down the dryness in his throat as fog starts to creep against his desperation. He looks to where the figure just was but even that slight motion makes his vision swim. He hates the pounding that starts anew in his chest. It feels like an admission of something worse than death yet Jules can't stop the next plea. "Over here!"
That one feels just as far. Jules curls away from the wall as more brick crumbles in front of him. A fearful breath catches in his throat before he can swallow it away. He pulls his feet in tighter, makes his body as small as it can be because it feels like the only option left.
At this point, he'd do anything.
"Where are we going?!" Aviv shouts from behind him. Kas only tightens his grip in response as they scramble across the grounds. He can barely see two meters ahead of them so the answer to Aviv's question would be an honest guess at best. He just needs to get them away from the dock, that's his first priority. Explanations can wait.
Kas feels a sharp yank on his arm and turns just before being pulled to the ground. Aviv lets go of his hand and pushes up to face him. The dust in the air has formed two white rivers below Aviv's eyes and the breath he coughs out is filled with even more. "Please, the wall."
Aviv's voice is desperate, pleading, and Kas doesn't have to guess why. They were close to where the explosion happened. From his landing spot a few meters back, Kas could see the wall and the opening hollowed out at its base. No doubt, Aviv saw it too.
A trio of sharp cracks cut the air behind them and both contestants recoil further into the ground. Kas can feel his chest shivering into the mud and the threat of tears feels closer than ever. He knows that Aviv would see the gap in the wall as their saving grace. That's why his grip never faltered and still can't. "You hear that?"
Aviv nods. While Kas can feel his body trembling, with Aviv he can see it. That's the only difference between the pair at this point. They're both terrified - the explosion, the wall, the opening, and now gunshots - it all happened so fast. Kas has always been a master of hidden fear, but he doubts that Aviv ever needed a reason to be.
"They're gunshots," Kas says sharply, pausing on the final word. "They're not going to let us go. Why would they?"
"They'd shoot us?" Aviv asks. He sounds horrified, like he can't even imagine such a thing and honestly Kas isn't sure that's the case. Kas doesn't know who's doing the shooting but he's not going to put them in the crossfire. They're criminals for fuck's sake. If there's the threat of them escaping, who wouldn't shoot them down first?
Kas stares across at the shadowed buildings that are barely visible through the descending dust cloud. How did this become our safe haven?
It's not, comes the immediate answer. It's the lesser of two evils that might give us just one more day to live.
"No one wants us out there," Kas says bitterly.
Aviv looks like he wants to argue, but the words get lost in the air around them. The guilt is immediate and Kas wants to take his statement back, but why? Aviv should know the truth. Isn't it only fair?
The world doesn't want them. If the last eight seasons of this show isn't proof enough then the gunshots outside must be. Kas has every reason to believe that if he slipped through the wall he'd be dead before his second step. He's committed two murders according to the newspaper headlines. If for some reason he makes it through this sick game, he doubts there will ever be another moment that he won't be watched.
It's hard to say if he's being realistic or cynical. At least in this case, Kas' willing to bet they're the same goddamn thing.
"Come on." Kas reaches across and grabs the other boy's hand, giving it a squeeze that he hopes is reassuring. They won't be finding out what happens past the wall, not if Kas can help it. As soon as he jumps to his feet, his head nearly sends him spinning back to the ground. He closes his eyes for a moment but when he opens them the world still swims before him.
Kas' grip on Aviv feels less and less secure as they run. His fingers feel numb, the only sensation being a warm pulse at the center of each palm. It feels familiar but he doesn't have the time to place it. They have to get to the building, preferably one of the basements. He doesn't know if the rest of the wall is going to hold. The roaring at his back still feels so close.
His hand locks on a knob and Kas falls against the door. He turns back with half-shut eyes but doesn't see Aviv until he looks down. He tries to reach for him but his arms don't listen. He feels his head thud lightly against the closed door and the set goes dark amidst his mind's still wide-awake panic.
We have to move.
…
"Lev!"
Vi follows the shouts without looking up, the uneven ground demanding their full attention. There're hunks of brick no matter where she steps and more than enough sounds to drown out their every thought. Vi can still feel the warmth in her hand from where Jared had just been. They don't know what else to do now but follow.
Jared's eyes turn back and his pace stumbles as he checks to make sure she's still there. Vi tries to nod but doesn't think they manage it. It takes all her focus, all her strength, not to think about what's happening around them. The fact that she hasn't processed it is the only reason they're still upright.
It's loud. It's so loud.
Vi has the urge to cover their ears as another sharp crack launches through the air. She thinks it sounds like fireworks, at least that's the closest comparison they can make. They don't think much beyond that. She doesn't think they're capable of it.
"Jared!" Vi tries to shout but the name comes out as a whisper.
He doesn't turn around, instead his voice bellows again into the dusted air. "Lev!"
Vi gasps as they reach the edge of what was moments ago the shoreline. She'd seen it from further back, but staring up at the wall now makes them feel so much smaller. It rises far above their heads and Vi has the distinct urge to drop down to the ground in fear. A chunk of grey breaks off mere meters ahead and she doesn't bother to hide their scream.
The rumbling. The fireworks that aren't fireworks. A half-dozen screams just like theirs.
No one will hear her anyways.
Vi looks to the right and sees a balled up figure less than an arm's length from the opening's edge. She finds the few steps to get closer almost impossible. Every movement they make feels like it's being done at half-speed. She turns their head one way then the other but she doesn't see Jared. The dust, the shadows, the crumbling brick - it's all starting to look like one abstract painting melting into her skin.
They reach out for the figure who doesn't respond. Vi's fingers feel clumsy as they reach the boy's face and it moves limply to the opposite side. His blonde hair falls across closed eyes. When she pushes further, he crumples completely to the left with his shoulders shrugged uncomfortably towards his ears.
Vi tries to move away but they are unable to so much as climb to her feet. She wavers to the side and barely catches themself on the edge of the dock. She doesn't know what's happening. They can't even think.
Someone pulls at her shoulder but that only takes Vi further towards the ground. Their eyes close for what feels like ages before opening again, this time staring at the ground from much higher up. She's moving, but they don't know to where. The next time their eyes close, opening them feels next to impossible.
The extra weight doesn't bother Jared, but it makes running much harder. He settles for a slow walk as his eyes start to sting with a mixture of dust and fresh exhaustion. He can't remember if it's always been this hard to move. Jared can hardly feel his feet below him but he has to keep going.
He still hasn't found Lev. He has to find him.
Jared adjusts Vi across his back. When he looks up, the world seems to spin but he shakes his head and puts the feeling away. Just like his parents taught him - recognize the feeling, name the feeling, if it's not helpful put it away for later. Every night they'd help him unpack them again. They said it was best to sleep with an empty head.
When he tries to pack the dizzy feeling away, it doesn't leave. In fact, each time Jared turns to look in one direction or the other it returns tenfold.
"Lev!" He shouts again. Jared's grip slips for a moment and he feels Vi move further down his shoulders. He stops to adjust. He keeps going.
One foot in front of the other until the surrounding sounds get even louder. His eyes are glazed over as he approaches the wall and the darkness that stretches far beyond it. However, Jared doesn't stop to wonder where it leads to. He doesn't care.
Jared drops down to the ground beside the dusted shadow and wipes a hand unceremonious across their face. "Lev."
It's the only thing he feels capable of saying. Lev doesn't answer. Jared drops Vi to the ground beside him, leaning them carefully across his legs but she doesn't move either. He grabs Lev's shoulder with both hands and shakes him, gently at first and then with more force. His eyes remain closed. Jared stares down at Vi, then back to Lev. The dizziness only gets stronger.
He tries to shake it from his head. Jared's eyes fall to the ground beside Lev, to the red that has caked far into the dust around him. He leans closer, one hand reaching to check the rest of Lev's body before he recoils.
It doesn't even look like a leg.
The skin is red and mangled like it's been ground with a mortar and pestle from the knee down. The opposite leg looks much the same with blood oozing from more wounds than Jared can count. The longer Jared looks, the more dust begins to look pink around him. His hand glances across his knee and it too comes back streaked in crumbling blood.
"Help!" Jared shouts but the sound comes as a slurred whisper. He plants one hand down against Lev's closest leg to try and stop the bleeding but his own skin feels numb. Jared nudges Vi with his elbow to wake her, to beg them to help, but she still doesn't move. The bruise around their neck somehow looks even angrier. He can make out every broken blood vessel still tender on her cheeks.
Jared sucks in a frantic breath. He needs help. They need to help him, his friends are hurt.
"Help me!" While the world around him lays in ashes, his cry feels like the only sound left.
He grits his teeth together as his vision starts to blur. He needs to do something. He needs help. "Please! Someone!"
There's no answer. Jared grabs Lev's opposite shoulder but his fingers sink far deeper into his skin than they should. He turns his friend onto his side and the spot where Lev's upper arm should connect to his elbow is coated in black char that makes Jared's stomach turn.
The dizziness sinks deep into his skull, forcing his mind into cotton circles that spin frantically around the bloodied ground. Jared tries to keep pressure on his leg. He tries to reach for Lev's other side but the only thing that does is knock him off balance.
The floor is silent when Jared finally reaches it.
Everything is silent.
Cell Block C - 9:00 AM
The heaviness lifts gently as Aviv starts to awaken. The lights grow intensely behind his closed eyelids until he finally squints them open. When they finally adjust, it feels like he's been shocked alive again. The walls, the bars, and the sheets pulled loosely over his body come into focus all at once. He knows where he is.
"Welcome."
The single word sends panic rushing to his chest. Aviv shoots up to sitting and his head spins in protest. Though he knows what he'll see, when he turns to the left his heart nearly stops entirely. The same dark silhouette from the first day glares back at him though its eyes can't be seen.
"Why am I here?" Aviv asks. The memories come flooding back as if simply seeing the figure were enough to break the dam. The explosion. Kas and him running. Gunshots. The heaviness that built up behind his skull until…
He doesn't know what happened after that. He doesn't know how he got here with a fresh sheet covering the same dirtied clothes. As he looks down, there's one thing suspiciously missing but he almost can't put his finger on it. Aviv takes a slow breath to try and calm himself.
The smell. It's different.
He lifts both arms and examines the overlying skin. There's dirt in all the right places but what he doesn't see is the grey dust that clouds every inch of his memories. Aviv can't smell the built up odour that's clung to him for what feels like weeks. The powdered grit that covered his clothing is gone, replaced only by mud that covers his knees and splatters his chest. He looks exactly as he did before the explosion, though he's obviously been cleaned.
"I suspect you'll have many questions." Aviv's body tenses as what could be a laugh echoes through the cell. "Luckily, I have many answers."
"Where's Kasper?" Aviv asks quietly. He doesn't have the courage to demand it but just the sound of his name eats at his ribcage. The last he remembers they were running for one of the buildings together. He doesn't know if they ever reached it.
"You're skipping ahead."
Aviv swallows. He opens his mouth but there are no other questions to slip through it. He doesn't know where to begin or what to ask. Nothing about right now makes any sense.
"Early this morning there was a terrorist attack on the main set," the voice tells him somberly. "Rebels were able to break through our barriers and overcome some security measures. Their motive is still unclear. No demands were made, but several of our dear contestants were killed or injured in the attack."
Aviv's heart drops.
Killed. Contestants were killed… by terrorists? How?
"Our security team managed to neutralize the attack and secure all remaining contestants inside. For your protection, a sedative was run through your trackers so that you could be brought to safety while the barrier was repaired. There is no further threat and it's now safe to continue the current phase of competition."
"We just… go back?" Aviv asks.
He stares around the cell but none of what they're saying feels like it could possibly be real. The memories that bite at his consciousness might make more sense if it was, but this room looks no different than when Aviv left it days ago. It feels like he's waking up from a bad dream only to be told the nightmare's still set to continue.
By the time the first tear reaches his chin, a hundred more have gathered above it. Aviv buries his face in the clean sheet as his body shudders with uncontrollable sobs. He remembers the explosion. He thinks of the sounds that Kas promised were gunshots. He realizes that he never looked for Nora, for all he knows she's one of the dead or injured.
She can't… she can't be dead.
Aviv lifts himself to face the screen again. In some ways it feels no different than the first time, when it was impossible to tell which tears were from fear and which from absolute misery. Even glancing at the silhouette had made his body tremble until simply holding the sheet in front of his face was too difficult. As he sits here, Aviv keeps hold of the blanket across his chest. He knows where the tears are from though he's just as powerless to stop them.
In some ways, nothing's changed. In many more, everything has.
He's not as afraid of the voice as he should be. It might be the reason he's here or the witness to every awful puzzle piece, but it can't hurt him. It might just be the only thing in this place for which that statement rings true.
"Not yet," the voice assures him. "First there are a few important changes you must be made aware of."
Aviv glances to the bars that are as firmly closed as the first day. He has no desire to hear the changes. He has even less of a desire to leave this room knowing now what waits beyond it. It feels like he's doing everything all over again and his first instinct is to crawl under the cot and never come out.
Maybe a week ago he would have done just that, had he known. Today, Aviv knows that it won't change a thing.
"I'm sure you understand that the public cannot be made aware of what happened today."
Aviv swallows. "Wouldn't it be safer if they knew?"
"There is no threat of further attacks," it tells him. "It would only incite unnecessary panic. For this reason, contestants will be forbidden from discussing today's events. In addition, you are not to get within thirty centimeters of the wall."
The wall. Another flash of memory, Aviv looks up and sees the light-grey brick caving in by the dock. It hadn't been there before the explosion. Aviv had almost forgotten that fact.
"We're not on an island," he says quietly. It's not a question and the voice doesn't answer it. He doesn't need confirmation.
"Violation of either of these rules will result in immediate disqualification."
His cheeks pale. His lips part quickly to ask what that means but close when Aviv realizes that he already knows. There's only one consequence for losing even if the voice doesn't want to call it what it is. They use different, kinder words - disqualification, elimination - but they mean the same thing.
Aviv doesn't doubt that they could do it. What did the voice just admit - that they ran sedatives through their trackers? What's stopping them from giving them a healthy dose more? His heart speeds up as he realizes that the answer is nothing at all.
If a contestant breaks the rules, the others won't have to kill them.
The Cut will do it themself.
"You and the other remaining contestants have been assigned starting locations based on last movements prior to the attack."
Nora sits perfectly still watching each of the figure's subtle movements. Her hand clutches the wound on her upper arm, the bleeding long stopped. Each time her thumb rubs against it, the pain returns. The overlying uniform is free of blood and dust and the hole that should allow her to see the wound. No one looking at her would know.
She's already been instructed not to speak of the injury. Honestly, Nora would like nothing more than to forget about it entirely.
The silhouette disappears from the screen and is replaced by her assigned location - Intake Dock. She stiffens, wondering if this is some sick joke but not bothering to ask. She can't afford to cause more of a stir than she already has. Nora will simply do as they ask.
If she wants a chance at winning, she doesn't have a choice.
She should never have been stupid enough to believe there was another way, not even for a second. When 001 grabbed her and pointed Nora towards the crumbling gap in the wall, she had believed it. The mirage of the island had disappeared in an instant. They weren't kilometers off the shore far away from possible aid. If she could just run fast enough, run far enough, someone would help her.
Instead, they shot her.
She should never have believed for a moment that they'd do anything else.
"You will be permitted to move there now with no threat from the other contestants." She doesn't flinch as the bars begin to slip open. In fact, Nora doesn't bother to even look in that direction. She stares unwaveringly at the screen. She wonders if the person behind it knows how much she hates them.
"Exiting this cell will be assumed agreement to all terms that have been laid out for you. You will not discuss the aforementioned attack. You will not go within thirty centimeters of the wall. You will not harm any contestant until all are in place and you have been permitted to do so."
Nora counts to ten before rising from the cot and half-considers taking the sheet with her before realizing that is likely not allowed. As she approaches the bars, a chime from behind catches her attention. She turns around to find her chain and shears have been dumped unceremoniously on the floor beneath the screen.
She glares up at the screen for another moment before stooping to collect them. If Nora thought it would be worth it, she'd be tempted to leave both weapons here. She's not in a position to let bitterness win right now. She needs to play by their rules.
She needs to wipe the metaphorical tears from her eyes that her own moronic hope put there.
There's no escaping The Cut.
Not until they say so.
Nora ties the chain again at her waist and pockets the shears before heading outside. The cell block looks no different than when she left it, including the bloodstained room that she passes on the first level. It's long dried out, but she can make out three half footprints that have been smeared into the main room. She doesn't have to guess who they belong to.
"Nora?" She stiffens at the sound of her name. Not even the voice had said it and the two familiar syllables make her pause like a deer in headlights.
Her throat is dry as she turns carefully. She doesn't answer.
Kasper approaches her slowly from the cell block's table. Nora hadn't seen him sitting there. Somehow, waiting in her cell feels preferable to this. Her hand rests against the top of her shears as he takes another step forward, but the voice's instructions echo before she can pull them out.
You will not harm any contestant until all are in place-
"Yes." The word feels dry on her tongue. She's hardly spoken in the past few days. There's been little need to.
Kasper offers a half-smile. He seems more friendly than she remembers, but of course she hasn't thought much of him. Perhaps he's always been like this. Perhaps the competition has driven him to the brink of insanity. When she doesn't return the grin it quickly disappears. Nora doesn't know why he's chosen now to start a conversation. She can't ever remember them having one.
Besides, he's never seemed like the type to seek out company.
"Aviv's been looking for you."
Nora's body goes frigid with just his name. She turns away, her eyebrows dipping together in confusion or perhaps anger. She hasn't thought of Aviv since the target period ended. She has no reason to. "You've been with him then?"
She doesn't know why that matters. She can't be allowed to care either way.
"Long story," Kasper says softly. "He tried to find you. I think he'd consider it important that you know that."
He shifts his weight to either side no doubt waiting for a response. Nora doesn't have one. It's not exactly surprising that Aviv would look for her, but she figured he would have given up by now. He has to know what she did. Not even Aviv is that oblivious. Especially if Kasper is with him now.
They'd locked eyes just before the bars had opened in this very cell block.
"He should be out soon. I think he'd be glad to see you," Kasper says finally, pointing behind him. She notes that he hasn't gotten any closer to her. There's at least ten feet separating them even with the temporary ceasefire in place. Nora can see the trepidation in his posture. He knows what she did yet he still approached her.
For Aviv.
"You know what this game is." She doesn't ask it as a question, the words cut through the air as a firm statement. Nora can see it in his eyes, in his hesitancy to talk to her. He's not stupid. He should understand that nothing good could come from this reunion. "What makes you think I wouldn't kill him?"
The question stings even Nora but she stands tall alongside it. He knows better. All of them should.
She remembers her promise days ago, even if it was meant only for the target period. Nora knows that it has to hold true now as well. It doesn't matter if what Kasper's saying is true. It doesn't matter if Aviv is looking for her or if he forgives her for what she did. Nora's going to kill again.
And past this mandated-truce, it won't matter who it is.
Kasper's neutral expression is firm but not perfect. She can see the shock beaming through it. She can feel the judgement but what does he have to preach about? He's locked in this same game, in this same arena, and he hasn't laid down nobly to die yet.
"Well?" She asks loudly. "Or do you plan on doing that yourself?"
His lips tighten and Kasper takes a half-step forward. "I wouldn't hurt him."
"Then you're lying to yourself," Nora hisses. Her eyes remain locked with his until something behind him catches her attention. The distinct sound of sliding bars echoes through the concrete room. She doesn't know for sure who it will be - there are at least two other options that aren't quite so terrifying - but the mere prospect is enough.
She takes off down the hallway before the inmate can emerge and before Kasper can stop her. At first, it doesn't matter where she's going but Nora's steps quickly redirect to where the ladder should be. She's explored most paths that these hallways can take. She knows the way and soon enough remembers her assigned destination.
Not too many people get a second chance yet somehow she's ended up with a third. Nora's not going to let it slip away over another stupid mistake. She isn't going to entertain 'other ways' or 'what ifs'.
She has to play by their rules.
That's the only way to win.
Dining Hall - 9:19 AM
The halls are just as London remembers - silent.
She wraps her arms around herself as she turns the final corner into the Dining Hall. She hasn't been here in what feels like years, but London somehow remembered the way. It's only one hallway down from the kitchen which was coated in char and melted plastic that made her skin crawl.
Different yet the same.
That's what today's felt like.
London can only assume this has something to do with the meal drop, but truthfully she doesn't know. The only thing she can hold onto are the memories - her clinging to the ladder before she forced herself through endless hallways, the announcement, and the sudden sleepiness that fell like a thick sheet over her head. After that, there's nothing. No dreams, no words, and no memories.
Not until she woke up back in her cell.
Not until the voice started again, telling her so little yet even that was enough to frighten her. There'd been an attack on the set and some of the others had been injured or worse. The barrier was now visible. London wasn't allowed to touch it or even mention what little she knew.
She tightens her arms in a firm hug of her stomach and sucks in a deep breath. London's eyes float around the empty dining hall expectantly, but the only things that stare back are tables and benches. Her brows furrow at the concrete walls but it takes a moment before even she understands why.
She'd been looking for Alaina.
It made some sense. They were being sent to locations based on where they'd last been when the attack started. In near every memory London had of this place, Alaina was beside her. This should have been no different. Alaina should have been waiting for her, maybe not with a smile but that would be okay. As long as she was here.
Tears fall silently down London's face as she stares back at the hollow room. There's no one waiting for her.
Alaina's gone.
She bites down hard on her hand as she slides to the floor. The realization rips the wound right back open though truthfully it'd never closed. Alaina is dead. She isn't coming back. The reset of the competition doesn't include her because she was already dead. How long has it been? How many hours have passed since her name was spoken by that awful voice to signify that London would never see her again?
Too many. Not enough.
She doesn't know which. She doesn't think either will make her feel any better.
London's chin raises to the ceiling as static crackles through the air. Even that muted sound makes her skin crawl.
"Attention contestants." She hates the voice even now without the silhouette glaring back at her. It feels just as sinister, just as apathetic, as it did when it said her name. "You have ten minutes before the next phase of competition will begin."
London shivers. It sounds almost excited.
"Don't be late."
Contestant Status Indeterminate.
A/N: Hello, how are we all doing on this fine afternoon?
For those of you on discord, yes this mess is what I've been affectionately referring to as The Scene. It's something I've been working on since long before the story started and I have to say that I'm quite happy with how it all turned out. If you're still looking for answers, do not fret, there will be some coming up next chapter during Interlude III. Yeah, nothing to fear there.
As always, thank you to everyone still reading / discussing / reviewing / making their fear known everytime I enter the #writing-room. I appreciate you all so very much.
Until next time!
~ Olive