Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the Dark Castle movies or the Survivor game show. I do, however, own Hekasha (myself), the Dark Isle, and the voices in my head…er, my muse. Right.
A/N: Hey there everyone. I'm new to this section, but I hope all my readers will come find me soon. I'm review-dry. *sniff* Now, sorry about the previous chapter. I wanted to get all the arrivals over with in one chapter, but I realized it was getting a bit long and, rather than cutting things out, I just sort of fast-forwarded it a bit. Don't worry; I'll try to give all the contestants the characterization they deserve. Now, on to the next chapter…
Chapter 2: Dangerous Game
Maureen Epps trudged along after the others, trying to decide what to do. One minute, she had been in the hospital, recovering from her exploits on the Antonia Graza, and the next minute she had felt herself falling through what had felt like a cold, dark void. The next thing she remembered she had been laying in some brush, and when she got up…
The first thing that had registered in her mind was the large group of people around her. She was certainly not in the hospital anymore. Then she had seen them. Murphy and Dodge. Her shipmates, her friends, her family. And next to them, standing hands behind her back in proper British fashion was Katie Harwood, the little girl that had helped Epps escape from the Antonia Graza. But they were all dead. Which meant Epps must be…
That's when she had seen him. The very embodiment of evil. The man – no, monster – whose image had been burned into her mind forever: Jack Ferriman. Standing next to him was his little whore, Francesca what's-her-name. And that's when Epps had known she was in Hell. That bastard had come back for her and killed her somehow, marked her and brought her down to Hell with all the rest of his victims.
Panic had seized her, and she had lunged for him, but out of nowhere she had been held back. When her vision had returned to normal and her sense had returned, she had realized it was a small, creepy-looking woman. She had said something about a game, and to follow her. Left with the choice to follow or be left behind, Epps had fallen into step behind the others.
She could see now, over the heads of the procession, a familiar blonde head weaving through them to find her. Dodge broke from the throng and caught sight of her, rushing to her and scooping her up in his arms for a fierce hug. Epps clutched him back, suddenly having to bite her lip to keep from tears. She had been strong through all of this; there was no reason why she should break up now.
She released Dodge and embraced Murphy, who had come up behind the younger man, and smiled at Katie, who was standing off to the side, pale and silent.
"What's going on here?" Epps asked, "Are we in…"
"Hell? Not as far as I know," Dodge replied.
"What about the others?" Epps asked tremulously, "Santos, Munder, Greer…?"
Dodge shook his head. "We haven't seen them."
Murphy fell into step beside them, the three of them now taking up the rear of the procession.
"I think," he said, "that that girl there-" He pointed ahead to where the creepy woman from before seemed to float above the weeds and burrs, not needing to trudge through them like the others did, "She's in charge here. She said something about some sort of game. I think we should wait and hear her out."
Epps had a lot of strong points. Patience was not one of them, nor was subtlety.
"I say we go up there right now and shake the information out of her," she growled.
"No," Katie said, speaking for the first time, "No, wait. I don't think that's a good idea. You saw how she held you back earlier. She seems to have some sort of unnatural powers, and it most likely wouldn't do to have her angry at us."
Nodding in grudging agreement with the eerily wise little girl, Epps ground her teeth and hoped they would all be provided with an explanation pretty damn soon.
Sara Wolfe was confused. The last thing she remembered before being here on this decidedly creepy island was sitting on the window ledge of the Vanacutt Institution, laughing with Eddie in the growing dawn light and clutching her check for half a million dollars. Now she was here, following these people she had known only briefly in the House on Haunted Hill and she had assumed dead: Evelyn and Steven Price, Watson Pritchett and Melissa Marr.
"So what's the last thing you guys remember?" Sara asked, whispering to avoid calling attention to their little group. She didn't like the look of some of these other strangers, especially that insane-looking old guy in the suit a little ways ahead. He had a mad look to him that reminded her far too much of Dr. Vanacutt himself.
Evelyn turned to look at Sara, giving her a measuring glance, as if even though Sara had survived where most of them hadn't she still wasn't worthy of the dark-haired woman's approval.
"The last thing I remember was running from that shadow creature," Evelyn whispered finally, her voice sounding strained, "Right before it…you know, got me."
Steven snorted.
"Unwilling to accept the truth as ever, my dear." He spat the endearment as always like it was a foul oath, "You remember perfectly well what happened after that. We were trapped in that hellhole, the victims of our own bloodline and a vengeful old house."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed, but she stayed silent.
Watson spoke up. "So, does anyone know what's going on here? This place is starting to give me the creeps."
The little man looked around as he walked, seemingly afraid of some unknown assailant jumping out of the trees at him any time now. Understandable, Sara thought, after the events of the last twenty-four hours. That was enough to make anyone jump at shadows.
"Starting?" Melissa laughed, "I've gone far beyond 'starting' to get creeped out. But hell, if what that weird lady up there says is true," she pointed to the front of the line, where Hekasha presumably still strode gracefully through the jungle, "then we're all alive again. And I'd much prefer being alive and free on this island than dead and enslaved in that godforsaken institution any day."
"Hear, hear," Evelyn whispered.
Sara grimaced. She wished Eddie were here. She wondered why he had been left behind, along with Dr. Blackburn. And she wondered why the other people present were chosen to be there, and where they came from.
Cyrus Kriticos walked fairly easily through the jungle underbrush, swiping aside stray ferns and brambles from underfoot with his cane. He wasn't walking with anyone, preferring to be on his own for the time being. He knew that he couldn't simply walk up to his nephew or any of his little friends, including his old ally Kalina. He had revealed far too much about himself to them already. Cyrus found that remaining an enigma was the best way to keep control of one's allies, and as he looked around he saw all kinds of fresh blood to sink his talons into, to forge into his later minions until he could get off this island.
He knew very well that he should be dead, but his senses told him he was very much alive. There was something going on here that had immense consequences, and he was aching to get his hands on that black-clad woman and get her to spill the information to him. But not yet. He'd hear what she had to say, and then he'd go to work on the strangers around him, fooling them into trusting him just as he had fooled Kalina and that twitchy little psychic, Dennis.
As he was thinking about this, a smirk playing on his lips, Cyrus heard voices behind him, drawing closer. Listening closely but not turning around, he recognized the husky female voice of that Italian broad and her male companion.
"Lei me ha abbandonato appena! Che lei pensavano, il Cricco? Tutto ho fatto per lei. Mi sono sbarazzato di quel negro stupido per lei! Non ho preso niente nel ritorno! Uomini!"
"Francesca, I can't understand a goddamn word you're saying. Shut up for a minute and let me think, okay?"
The woman harrumphed indignantly and although they were still behind him Cyrus could imagine her crossing her arms over her voluptuous chest and sulking. Cyrus narrowed his eyes. Perhaps now was the time to start making his alliances…
He turned and faced the couple behind him, who were trudging through the underbrush carefully. The woman's long skirt was ripped and dirty, and she was having a hard time stepping over some of the larger brambles. The man didn't seem to particularly care, looking lost in thought.
He looked up only when he was about to run into Cyrus. He looked Cyrus up and down with one eyebrow raised, then faced him straight on. The two men were of about equal height, and a small staring contest prevailed until the younger man sneered.
'You have a problem or something, old man?"
Cyrus smiled and laughed, an eerie sound.
"No, no problem. I heard you distressing over our current predicament and thought that since I've been here a bit longer than you I'd have some information about this little game that you'd find useful."
Cyrus trailed off, dangling the bait, waiting for the younger man to snap it up.
It took about twenty seconds.
The younger man stuck out his hand.
"Jack Ferriman," he said, "and this is Francesca."
Cyrus nodded to Francesca and gripped Jack's hand firmly, always the businessman.
"Cyrus Kriticos. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Maggie shivered, even though the tropical night air was balmy. It wasn't the environment. It was this whole goddamned situation, she thought grimly. Why, oh WHY, had she decided to take this job for the Kriticoses? She was a highly qualified nanny, and she decided on this job for a family who could barely afford her wages!
She knew the real reason she had taken this job was that Arthur and his family had been down on their luck. They had needed somebody to not only look after Bobby, who was the sweetest little kid and cute as a button, but to help get their family back together after their tragedy. It was this desperation and the goodness in her heart that had led her to take this job.
'Screw goodness,' she thought bitterly, "I did NOT sign on for all this ghost shit. First that scary old house, and that scary old man, and his traitorous little bitch, and now I'm on this freakin' island, with more crazy white people, and some insane lady in a cloak, and there's snakes, God I hate snakes, and spiders, and ooooohh…"
She shivered again and looked around to see Arthur looking at her, one eyebrow raised.
Maggie cringed.
"Sorry, did I say all that out loud?"
"Yeah," Arthur said, in his usual bemused fashion. Arthur was a wreck, obviously worried sick about his kids. Truth was, Maggie was worried sick about the kids too, but you see last time she checked the kids were safe, so right now she was more worried sick about her own ass.
That funny little psychic dude was on Arthur's other side, peering over at Maggie and looking like he might laugh.
"Don't you dare, ghost boy," Maggie threatened, thrusting one hip out and assuming her ghetto-girl look, "One little titter outta you and you're snake meat, got that?"
The tall, gangly man looked at her for about a second before bursting out in laughter. This wasn't no little titter. No, this laughter echoed off the trees and bounced off the small hill behind them in the center of the island. It was high-pitched, hysterical laughter. As soon as it broke out, everyone turned to look at their little group.
Maggie cringed at their stares and looked around. She didn't like the look of some of these people, and she had no idea where they had come from. And now they were all staring at her. She recognized the freaky old man, Cyrus, who had been joined by some other little man and a woman in a red dress. She also recognized Kalina whats-her-face, off by herself, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
Still cringing, Maggie turned back to look at the psychic dude, who was wiping hysterical tears from his eyes.
"Shush," she hissed at him, "Why'd you have to go and do that, drawing attention to us and all?"
"Gee," he said bitterly, his laughter dying away and his eyes filled with pain, "I guess you don't understand the humor in this. You see, just about an hour ago I WAS 'snake-meat', as you put it, and I was perfectly content to be that way. My life was shit and it was finally over, and now because of some sick bitch's twisted game, I'm back and very much alive. I have a pounding headache and ya know what, I don't like snakes either. Snakes scare the hell outta me! And look at poor Arthur! He's worried sick about his kids, I would too were I in his situation!
"Jesus, when I left you guys everything was okay, and I thought I could rest but nope, guess not, I'm back and my head feels like a jackhammer just attacked it. And you're telling me I'm about to be snake meat. I'm sorry, that's kinda funny to me."
To his credit, Maggie thought grimly, at least the guy didn't end up screaming like he had back in the house with his depravity speech. In fact, he had kept his voice to a low hiss. Maybe that meant he was just as intimidated by all these people as Maggie was. That was good, right?
When she didn't respond, Dennis straightened and yelped, jumping back about five feet.
The cause of his alarm was apparent. That creepy-looking woman in black was standing about an inch from where Rafkin's nose had been. Nobody had heard her creep up on them; Maggie put a hand over her heart to steady it. The woman was staring at Rafkin with compassion, although Maggie suspected she might be mocking him.
"Poor Dennis," the woman said in a high, eerie voice, "I know this hurts you, but you'll soon see that this will all be for the better. The beach is only a few more minutes away. When we get there I'll explain everything, and you'll know what a great opportunity I'm giving you."
She then turned and faced the rest of the crowd, who were still silently watching.
"All of you have a wonderful opportunity. Now, if you'll just continue to follow me…"
She trailed off and floated gracefully away through the underbrush, gliding as silently as a ghost.
Five minutes later, the group emerged from the jungle onto the beach. The moon had descended halfway toward the horizon, slanting shadows over the group as they picked their way over the soft white sand toward a group of logs that had been arranged in a circle.
Hekasha climbed over one of the logs and motioned toward the group.
"Sit," she said simply, and they complied, settling themselves on the logs. There was just enough space so that they could all sit, crushed together, no spaces between them.
Hekasha raised her hand for silence, even though none of her guests spoke a word. She gazed about regally at them, ever so proud of herself for completing the preliminary stages of her game: getting them all here, to the Council area.
The water lapped in the background and the tropical trade winds played with stray bits of hair and clothing as the odd assembly looked silently at Hekasha, waiting for her to speak.
After a few moments, she began.
"Welcome everyone," she said, her high, feminine voice soft but carrying, "to the single biggest event of your unnatural lives. If you'll stay silent until I've finished my explanation, I'll take questions afterward. Now," she paused for a moment, catching the eyes of each of her guests as she spun around in a circle, "I suppose you're wondering where you are.
"This is called the Dark Isle. It sits in an un-traveled area of doldrums in the Pacific Ocean. Human civilization has yet to find this island. There are no planes that will fly overhead and no boats to rescue you for hundreds of miles. There is no escape from this island other than those which I shall explain to you, is that clear?"
Silence met her question, so she went on, "I know you're also wondering why you are here. You have each been chosen carefully from the world of paranormal encounters for this little project, each of you handpicked based on your strength, skill, endurance, belief level, and of course entertainment value. In other words, we chose you because you believe fully in the paranormal, and because people will get a kick out of watching you. Clear?"
Again silence as the gathering absorbed this piece of information.
"And now, I'll explain the reason you're here.
"This island has been chosen as the site for a spectacular game, and you have been chosen as the contestants. The name of the game is this: survival. The Dark Isle has the necessary supplies for living such as fresh water, food, and supplies for a shelter. The island is known for its fierce storms, so I'd highly recommend you build a shelter. The group we see here has been previously split into two equal teams, or tribes: the red tribe and the black tribe. Once I assign you your tribe, it will be up to you to agree on a name and a flag.
"Your tribe will be like your family on the island: you will live together, eat together, sleep together. The island is a dangerous place full of poisonous wildlife and plants, so you might also choose to protect each other. You will also be competing against the other tribe on a regular basis, so I suggest you learn to work together.
"Every three days there will be what is called a challenge: a game where the two tribes compete against each other for the privilege of immunity. Immunity is a survival trait of the game. If your tribe wins immunity, you are safe for another three days. None of your tribemates will be eliminated from the game. Is this all clear?"
"Hold on a sec," piped up a voice from behind Hekasha. The woman swirled around to face Epps.
"Yes, my dear?"
"What do you mean, 'eliminated'?"
"I was getting to that," Hekasha said with a smile, and continued, "The tribe who does NOT win immunity faces a problem: elimination. In this case, the tribe will be forced to eliminate one member from their tribe by way of a vote. The losing team will meet me here on the night of the challenge and each tribe member will vote for one member of their own tribe.
"Now this is where the game gets interesting. In the conventional form of the game, the tribe member with the most votes simply leaves the island without delay, eliminated from the game forever. But this is not the conventional form of this game.
"This is the main reason why you have been chosen for this version. You've all been in dangerous situations before, I daresay. You have all had some experience running from your own deaths, and the sixteen of you have been chosen based on your performance in those situations. Some were terrible at the chase…" Hekasha glanced at Melissa and Kalina, "And some were very adept…" she smiled at Epps, Arthur, Maggie and Sara, "And some were truly amusing or entertaining," she winked at Dennis, Dodge, the Prices, Watson and Murphy, "or exceptionally interesting pursuers," she nodded to Jack, Francesca and Cyrus," and some just couldn't be left out." She smiled at Katie.
"In this form of the Survivor game, the tribe member with the most votes will be marked for execution. This means that from the minute the votes are read, the tribe member is a marked man or woman. From that moment on, anybody on the island, from either tribe, will be given express permission to kill the marked contestant. It will be up to the marked contestant to fend for themselves on the island, surviving as long as they can. You may choose the protection of friends or allies, or you may choose to defend yourself on your own. Just remember that there is a price on your head. The first contestant to successfully kill you will receive one thousand dollars and a luxury reward, so you must choose your friends carefully. The name of this game is to make alliances; strategy is a huge part of this game and, in this case, your lifespan. Now, I believe that's it. Are there any questions?"
Silence reigned for about five seconds before everyone started shouting at once.
Holding her hand up again, Hekasha waited for the din to die down before addressing the protestors one at a time.
She nodded to Dennis, who was fuming.
"Yes?"
Dennis was on his feet, obviously livid.
"And what if you don't want to be here at all? What if you'd rather be dead than play this stupid game?"
Hekasha raised her eyebrows and looked around at the crowd.
"Is there anyone else who feels this way?" she wanted to know.
Looking around at the people in the circle, she knew what the answer would be. All the people here either wanted to be alive again or wanted to stay alive. Playing the game may be a gamble, but it was certainly better than dying or worse, going back to the Vanacutt Institute or Ferriman's ghost ship.
"No? Well than I'm afraid, Dennis, that you're on your own. Since, as I said earlier, there is no alternate way for you to leave the island, I suppose you're stuck anyway. Oh, and I've forgotten to tell you about the grand prize."
"Grand prize?" Melissa interjected, her eyes wide as she leaned forward eagerly.
Seeing that she had everyone's attention, Hekasha smiled brightly.
"I can't believe I forgot! How terribly foolish of me. The final survivor will be granted one wish. One wish with no limitations, to be granted immediately."
Once again, silence prevailed as the contestants absorbed and considered this tidbit.
Hekasha swung back to face Dennis, who looked stunned.
"Still think this is a waste of your time, Dennis?"
Dennis blinked a few times and sat down hard on his log, shaking his head.
Grinning, Hekasha spun in a little circle, obviously elated that the problem was solved.
"Any other questions before I split you up into your tribes?"
There were some head shakes; Cyrus looked positively anxious for the game to begin, and some other contestants were whispering feverishly to each other or exchanging meaningful glances. Some just sat there, looking shell-shocked.
"Well then, I suppose I'll go about splitting you up. I'm afraid you don't get to choose your teams, and I'm afraid there will be no ifs, ands or buts about it. If you are separated from your friends, that's just too bad and you'll have to work to make new alliances. If you are put on a team with your enemies, I suggest you do the best you can to avoid killing them until they are voted out. If you can't restrain yourself and an unfortunate 'accident' should occur, you will be disqualified and marked for execution. You cannot collect a reward on a body if they are not marked. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
A few hate-filled glances were passed around the circle, but there were no objections.
"Right," Hekasha chirped, "It's getting toward dawn now, and I still have to get you divided. If everybody will please stand and move away from the circle…"
As one, the group stood and moved a ways down the beach. Suddenly, out of nowhere, two flags appeared. One was blood red, the other was black. Hekasha took the two flags and planted them firmly in the sand a few meters away from each other, then turned to face the group.
"Alright," she said, practically glowing with excitement. She couldn't believe things had gone this smoothly!
She waved her hand and a piece of paper appeared, from which he read, pointing to people as she read off their names.
"Dodge, red tribe. Epps, black tribe. Jack, red. Katie, black. Maggie, red. Arthur, black. Melissa, red. Cyrus, black. Murphy, red. Evelyn, black. Kalina, red. Watson, black. Steven, red. Dennis, black. Sara, red. Francesca, black."
There was some grumbling and some hugs as friends were separated and enemies placed together, but the new tribes moved fairly quickly toward their respective flags.
Once again, Hekasha flipped her hand, and two pieces of paper appeared. She handed one to Dodge and one to Arthur.
"These are maps of the island. This location is marked, as is the location of your tribe's camp. Once you reach camp, you will find supplies waiting for you. Now I suggest you get a move on. I'll see you in three days for the first challenge. Until then…"
With a swish of her cloak, Hekasha vanished as smoothly as she had appeared on the island.
And so it was, as dawn peeked over the far-off blue horizon, that the two tribes moved away in separate directions to begin to the game of Dark Castle Survivor.