Chapter 7—
8:00 – 9:00 AM, Day One.
Dante was feverish to the point of deliriousness. He was having trouble seeing straight, and it was pretty much impossible to bring the hand he held an inch in front of his face into focus. The sun drained the last of Dante's energy, sapping his will to sit up. Dante collapsed on the grass, trying to find a cold spot. The wound on his back from the bullet shot by Erin 3 or so hours ago wasn't exactly painful, though it had this odd feeling on it. It was as though someone was applying pressure to it… It throbbed a little as Dante moved, and he could feel it burn with fever.
Ike, meanwhile, had sat idly watching as Dante rolled around on the grass. Dante groaned as he shuffled the grass, trying to tear it out so he could lay on the cold dirt. At least, he wanted it to be cold. Everything seemed like it was on fire to him. The grass, the air, Ike's clothes, (he had tried leaning against Ike, but nothing doing) the air inside the shack, basically everything. He longed for a cold glass of water… ugh.
Dante lost consciousness. At this point, Ike became alarmed as Dante lay on the ground, his eyes closed and his mouth open, drooling a little. Ike stared at the passed out Dante for a while, somehow assuming he was dead. (You fucking idiot! He is not dead!) Ike quickly came to his senses, and lifted Dante's head from the grass.
Dante's eyes were closed, his mouth open as more drool condensed along the sides of his mouth. His face was red, his hair disheveled and messy. Ike quickly thought, 'There has to be something! This island's gotta have some sort of… doctor's office, or something!' Ike quickly pulled out his map, trying to find a place to cure Dante on a second look-through. Ike skimmed through the contents of the map, looking for anything that could have any sort of an inclination as to a doctor's office, or a clinic, anything!
Finally, in zone H1, Ike spotted a little turquoise dot which he hadn't seen before. He looked in the map legend and saw what it was; a clinic! Ike's mind raced as he thought of how he could safely transport Dante. The clinic was on a small peninsula on, well, the other side of the island. Dante and Ike's shack where they hung out was located in B3, just a zone away from the western shore of the island. Hidden in the mountains, it was the place where they thought they would be best concealed. However, the purpose of finding this establishment was now effectively destroyed what with Ike having to scale the entire diameter of the island to aid the sick Dante.
Ike picked up Dante, putting his hands under his waist, trying to lift him up. However, Ike couldn't handle Dante's weight. It wasn't as if Dante was heavy… Ike wasn't strong enough to carry Dante for more than 5 seconds, let alone an 1.5 kilometers across the island. Ike sighed as he watched Dante, whose mouth had now closed. The stench from his infection burned Ike's nostrils. Dante's spear extended from his back, looking as though he had a stone arrowhead just beside his head.
Ike sat down, trying to think of how he could attract a friend to help him lift Dante. Maybe Justin and Cedric…?
Ike laughed as he thought of his old friends, Justin and Cedric…
Wait. Old? They're my friends now, they always have been! Ike sighed and pushed his palms into his closed eyes, letting his elbows rest against his knees. He thought, I'm going paranoid already! Justin and Cedric are my friends. They wouldn't want to attack me, and vice versa! Come on!
Ike looked up again, examining the ocean, which was in most parts hidden by the low rocky mountains. His weapon of scissors did him no good… How could he contact his friends without bringing in enemies as well? It was a risk, that's for sure.
Ike lay back on the grass, becoming increasingly frustrated. He reached outward to his sides with his two arms and tore up the grass of which played host to his pounding fists.
"FUCK!" Ike called into the air as he lay. Ike's heart sped up, pounding against his chest. Ike was quite angry, you might say.
He stood up, then ran into the shack. Dante lay on the grass, barely moving. Ike, upon his arrival in the shack, kicked and punched at the walls, screaming swear words at the top of his lungs.
He extended his right fist into the poster of "Play Fair!" and it cracked against the wooden interior.
CRACK!
Ike yelped and examined the throbbing redness coating his fists. The pain scorched his knuckles, throbbing as Ike rubbed them on his chest, in an effort to ease the pain. He seethed as he became even angrier, until he heard a bush rustle outside. This launched Ike into paranoia. Unsheathing his scissors from… well, his jean pocket, he burst through the shack door, panting heavily, his eyes opened wickedly as they searched for intruders. He saw Dante, who remained still on the emerald carpet that was the grass, while the silent assailant crept unheard to Ike's keen ears.
Ike raised his eyebrows, in a sort of thing he thought was a battle stance, his scissors held like a knife, pointing parallel to the hill on which Dante lay. His arms were bent, as were his knees, making him look quite ridiculous, considering the bush rustling could've just been a gust of wind.
Suddenly, the bush rustled again. Ike immediately noticed its movement and crept up, raising his scissor hand high above his head as though he were about to plunge a holy sword into the mouth of an evil dragon as the final blow. His feet shuffled silently along the grass, as he remained in his hero stance. After about 15 seconds, Ike was right next to the tall bush, and he examined the ground below him. A solitary stick lay in the grass. He picked it up, then, jabbed through the bushes' leaves, trying to pinpoint the location of the creature.
"Ow!" A semi-bald head, shining in the dim sunlight, emerged from the foliage of the bush. The head of Ryan Dick, Boy Number Eight, arose with his hazel eyes frowning into Ike's sinister portrait.
"Ryan!" Ike was ecstatic. He reached his hand out to help Ryan, who was rubbing his head on where the branch must've poked him. Ryan reached out and met Ike's grip, and Ike helped Ryan pull himself up.
"Ow… Why'd you do that?" Ryan grinned as he saw Dante on the floor unconscious.
"I had to. You know this game. You could've been a killer." Ryan shrugged, holding his supply bag as he did. His green supply bag looked nearly empty; Ryan must've used up most of his food. His personal bag was gone. As Dante figured earlier, personal bags wouldn't be of much use, aside from maybe maintaining personal hygiene. Though, you could just put that in your supply bag and discard the rest of your personal bag, 'cause toothbrushes and toothpaste, deodorant, anything else, really, don't take up that much space.
"You're right." Ryan sat down on the grass beside Dante and delivered a massive body glove right in-between Dante's shoulder caps.
When Dante didn't respond, Ryan became skeptical. "He… he's not…" Ryan gave a look of disbelief, his face darting from Dante's limp stature to Ike's pensive look.
"… is he?" Ryan knit his brows as he delivered this final statement.
"No. He's unconscious… He's got a fever. Erin shot him earlier, now the wound is infected. It smells terrible… Look at it." Ike laughed as he said how Dante's wound smelled.
Ryan frowned, raising Dante's Volta t-shirt. The white sweater Dante had put on underneath, during a state of chills, was soaked with sweat, and clung to his shirt in its bath of perspiration. The wound was still purple, and looked raw. The smell was disgusting, indeed, and Ryan feigned vomiting as the stench entered his nostrils.
"Disgusting," Ryan laughed as he said this.
"This is where I need your help," Ike began. "I'm not as strong as you; I need to take Dante to the clinic in H-1. I know it's far… but…" Ike sighed. "I need your help."
Ryan frowned, scratched a spot beside his temple and nodded. "Yeah. I'll take him."
Clayton Peticlerc, the class artist, wandered along the shores of C1, on the northernmost part of the island. Having entered a state of petrifaction due to the terror he was in, he walked as though he had been mummified, his wide eyes staring straight ahead. Not a single thought ran through his mind; Clayton didn't even know where he was. Clayton didn't even… know. He was empty, his hopes and dreams lost because of the game. His dream of heading off to a fancy art college was effectively destroyed thanks to the almost guaranteed ticket to the gates of heaven.
This is where a new type of paranoia set in. Clayton had thought for hours as the game had begun, what would happen to Clayton if he died? He was never religious… He was a sort of atheist. But as he thought of dying more and more, he knew it was more likely to happen here than anywhere else. He also began to wonder what would happen to him if he died.
What would happen if he got shoved into the fiery brimstone hell that was Satan's Domain? He'd be tortured endlessly, no doubt. His worst fears being manipulated into a manifestation of pain, stabbing him repeatedly from all angles. Satan would watch on, sitting on a throne of skulls, as his minions brought him glasses of champagne.
But what if Clayton were sent to heaven? He'd be able to coast once he was there. Or… what if he got to the gates of heaven… only to be denied? This thought was awful, and Clayton had tried to flush things from his mind. As he did, however, he became filled with undeniable terror, which paralyzed him from head to toe. Clayton then began to walk aimlessly along the northern beach, indifferent to the ocean's repeating pummeling of the waiting shore.
Clayton continued walking along the shore, his club held in one hand. Clayton wasn't strong, so his body had been leaning to his right, which was his good hand, because the weight of the club was much greater than the pulling motion that Clayton was trying to maintain so he could hold the club up.
From a distance, it looked as though Clayton were a shambling horror. This was at least what Kael Tennant, Boy Number Twenty thought, as him and his best friend, Lee Noble, emerged from a nearby seaside mansion.
"Who… is that?" Kael asked. He steadied the grip on his hunting rifle as he examined the strange creature from a distance with a pair of binoculars. These binoculars were from Kael's personal bag. He had put them in there since bird watching was one of his hobbies... Though if he were to have it his way, he'd be shooting them. But he couldn't on a field trip… However, he did have a hunting rifle.
"Looks like Clayton," Lee Noble looked over Kael's shoulder, taking the binoculars from his grip and looking through them. "Yeah, it's Clayton." Lee laughed as he watched Clayton the artist, normally calm and quiet, now zombified and mysterious. Fastened onto Lee's belt were four heavy, identical objects which were roughly the same size as pineapples. Grenades. Lee knew grenades would come in handy. He could throw them far, he was dexterous, and the grenades packed quite the punch. There were four of them; easily enough to take out any sort of threat.
Lee stood up beside Kael, outside of the mansion grounds. The two now stood on the same beach as Clayton, who was about 50 meters ahead of them, completely oblivious to their presence. Lee crept forward along the sand, silently, then turned around and beckoned Kael forward with an eager smile on his face. Kael laughed, not bothering to stifle the laughter. They crept forward together, as silently as possible. The waves pounded against the shore, making a calming sound. The sun was now high in the eastern sky, indicating the start of the day.
Clayton continued his walking amidst the laughing noises Kael and Lee were making. The two of them were having quite a time. They were now about 10 meters behind him because of Clayton's incredibly slow pace, which was easy to overtake, even stealthily.
Lee was now about a meter behind Clayton, when he beckoned for Kael to give him his hunting rifle.
Kael and Lee were best friends. Both of them were from outside Cochrane in the countryside, where they were neighbors. Even though they lived about a kilometer away from each other, they still liked calling themselves neighbors with one another. They were both skilled outdoorsman, though they were both academically inept. That didn't matter to the two of them, however, because they had both decided long ago, (or had they?) that they were going to inherit their respective fathers' land and continue the tradition of living on a farm and raising a family on that same farm. Kael was medium sized, with a large amount of stubble, as well as what Dante and Ike had dubbed a "pansy-stache". He also had a bit of a unibrow, with large amounts of zits covering his face. His hair was black, and stood up a large height from his head. Lee, on the other hand, was taller, his face more refined then ruffian Kael's. He had no stubble, due to the fact that he had controlled the amount of facial hair he wanted. He had a miniscule amount of zits, as well as short brown hair.
While Kael came from a family which was poor due to the lack of beef sales, Lee's family prospered from the amount of crops they grew. The Coalition supported health, and beef was not the sort of thing they deemed healthy. To them, the most obvious things were considered healthy.
Kael, not realizing that Lee may decide to shoot Clayton, handed him the gun, snickering. Lee received the rifle, then mouthed "Watch this," to Kael. Lee held the rifle high above his head, then shimmied his hands down the barrel to the butt of the rifle. He had both of his hands on the same side, as though he were going to push it. He then retracted both of his elbows, then, suddenly, extended them, sending the rifle butt crashing into the back of Clayton's skull.
Clayton fell silently to the ground, his head throbbing… ever so painfully. His vision was blurry, and he felt as though he were about to vomit.
"Who did that?" he thought. Clayton's world spun, even though he wasn't moving. The side of his head embedded in the sand, Clayton made an attempt to straighten himself out and tried pushing himself up with his two hands, which were awkwardly bent out from the sides of his body. Suddenly, his left arm exploded. At least, that's what he thought it felt like.
Above him, Kael smashed the butt of the rifle into Clayton's left elbow. The impact cracked the bone in Clayton's elbow, and his wrist flopped lazily as it extended from his elbow. Clayton screamed in agony, writhing on the sand.
"Haha," he thought. Even though he was screaming on the outside, he was laughing on the inside. "Guess what? Now I'm even more terrified!"
Meanwhile, the two assailants laughed heartily together as they saw the little twerp writhing on the ground.
"Hey, bitch!" yelled Kael as he bent over to yell in Clayton's ear. As Clayton opened his eyes and turned his head, he saw the face of that rural boy, Kael Tennant. His ugly, unshaven face grimaced menacingly in Clayton's sharp, bird-like face. Clayton's red hair, which was a little curly, flopped about in the wind. Clayton growled with pain, then tried to force himself up. However, as he attempted to bring his left arm around to push himself up, the pain in his elbow spiked horribly.
"AGGGGHHHHHH!" Clayton screamed as loud as he could as the branding iron plunged into his arm. As the branding iron exited the wound, a thousand birds swooped in from the sky of red, pecking at his arm with beaks made of glass. Clayton screamed, then as he looked over at the birds, they squawked at him rudely. The birds then began to disperse, and as the last bird exited Clayton's wound, a massive anvil fell from the sky on top of his elbow. The pounding sensation numbed the rest of Clayton's arm, though the pain in his elbow exploded, burning, AAAGGGHH. Clayton couldn't even describe it. It was nothing he had ever felt before. Any analogy he could come up with was nowhere near what he felt. "They really did a number on me, didn't they?"
"What a loser," Lee said. "Here, pass me the rifle." Kael laughed, then kicked Clayton, hard, in the ribs. Clayton was oblivious to this new pain. It was still nowhere near to the dynasty of electrocution, burning, freezing, that his elbow sported.
Lee laughed as he received the rifle, watching Clayton's reaction to the kick. Clayton groaned endlessly as he watched his wrist dangle with the slightest of his left arm's movements.
"Batter up!" Lee swung the rifle behind his head, but as he did, something happened. An earsplitting noise, followed by a leg splitting pain. Lee's ears rung after the massive howl, then, he realized that his leg was completely cut open. As the rifle made it's revolution along his back, he accidentally pulled the trigger. Since the rifle was pointed downward at this stage, it ran vertically through his right calf, tearing through his leg and through his foot, out of his shoe and into the sand. Lee screamed as he saw the bone of his leg. The back of his leg was basically cut open, it's contents open for everyone to see like an art display.
His bone extended vertically through his calf, surrounded by a vermillion flanking of flesh and blood. This same blood spilled from the gaping chasm, spilling onto Lee's hiking boots and onto the sand. Lee then stumbled, falling to the ground, still screaming. Clayton managed to look over and watch as Lee fell to the ground, clutching his leg. Kael, meanwhile, stood in shock as his friend lay writhing in the dusty sand.
This went on for five minutes, until something finally happened. Clayton noticed a third party a few steps behind Lee and Kael. This student stood with his hands in his pockets, his tuxedo-like jacket worn overtop of a white shirt. His head leaned back casually, an arrogant smirk on his face.
It was Sid Algar.
Clayton immediately realized this danger, then got up. (What? How did I do that?) Clayton was about to delve further into how he had managed to stand up until he noticed Kael and Lee staring at him. Clayton then sprinted towards the end of the beach, until he reached a house which was part of the same suburban complex as the mansion behind the other three students. He ran behind it, then out of sight.
Kael and Lee, meanwhile, were oblivious to Sid's presence. This was ironic, considering just earlier, they were the ones who were oblivious to someone else.
Kael finally came to his senses, leaning over to aid his ailing friend. Lee groaned and seethed, still clutching his blood-soaked leg. Sid stood behind, taking in the scene with a toothy grin on his face.
How hilarious. Look at these idiots! They just let that guy go! Clayton… I'm fine with him. He can leave if he wants. He's afraid… heh.
"Okay…" Sid spoke up, taking his hands out his pockets. The two boys then turned around to face him, and upon recognizing who it was, both cringed in fear. Sid laughed, then proceeded to check on his fingernails. He sighed, shaking his head. "Ya know… you guys aren't cut out for this game." He laughed again, nodding this time. He continued looking more interested in his fingernails.
Kael and Lee were offended by this ridiculous gesture. Kael was the first to speak up. "Us? Not cut out? We've got anything we could possibly want! I've got a gun! Uhm, I can shoot! I'm good! So's Lee! And, uh, he's got grenades! How's that, fucker? You bitch! You think you can take us? You think this is funny, bitch? Laugh it up, fuckface!" The more Kael spoke, the louder and harder Sid laughed. Kael was livid with this idiots' approach on him and his friend. He growled as Sid admired him.
"Yeah… you're not." Sid laughed, then reached into his back pocket. Out of it, he pulled a shiny blade, attached to a wooden handle. A… hacksaw? He flopped it around, nodding. "I can take you out with this. Let's fight." Sid put on a serious face as he said this.
Kael stood up, both hands on the butt of his rifle, using it as a weapon, just as they had used it to injure Clayton. Lee, meanwhile, stood on the ground, speechless.
Kael was the first to initiate combat; he dove at Sid, rifle butt beside his waist, ready for a quick uppercut. He followed through on this attack, only to have it swiftly dodged by the dexterous Sid. Sid swung his hacksaw around, laughing.
"Yeah… you're not." He said this again, and Kael responded by yelling and diving once more. Kael, this time, raised the gun over his head and tried to do a downward-vertical smash. Sid dodged this again, however, and this time, as Kael, naturally, ran past, Sid slashed him in the back with his hacksaw. Kael yelped, stumbling forward, though not completely falling. He seethed as he clutched the small cut, which bled. The tear in his T-shirt was uncomfortable. He then proceeded to crouch in a battle stance, his gun held in front of him like a samurai sword. Sid, however, stood straight up, his saw held low in his right hand, his left hand held by his face.
This time, Sid was the first to initiate combat. He swung his saw in front of Kael's face, though he didn't connect. Kael watched as the silver blade flashed across his eyes, and he smirked as he realized Sid had missed. Suddenly, a fist came crashing into Kael's jaw, which was obviously Sid's. Kael fell crashing to the sand, his face quivering with pain. He rolled onto his back, and saw Sid. He looked unholy, his face and body almost hidden by the sun's forbidden path. Sid stood, then he smiled. Clutching his saw, he sort of straddled Kael, then he held the opposite end of the handle in his other hand. Kael assumed what he was going to do, and took out his rifle. Just as Sid was about to connect with his life-ending blow, Kael blocked the attack with his rifle. The two weapons crossed into an X, and the two ensued in a pushing war.
Sid laughed as he saw Kael struggling to hold up his weapon. The rifle was pressed close to Kael's throat, indicating a near-win for Sid. He'd choke him, simple as that.
Suddenly, Kael got a sudden burst of strength, pushing the two weapons back upward towards Sid about 10 centimeters. However, Sid was ready for this. He laughed at what he was about to do.
Kael was ready for any attack, though he wasn't ready for what Sid actually did. Sid slid the saw back and forth along the rifle. At first, Kael laughed at the useless maneuver. Then, upon seeing a scarlet liquid flow across the surface of his gun and hands, he realized what Sid had done. His fingers were gone. All of them. Aside from his thumbs, all of them were gone. Kael shrieked in horror, as his gun fell to the ground.
Sid stood up, laughing terribly as Kael and Lee, below him, shrieked at each other. Both of them were crippled horribly, one unable to grab and one unable to walk. They were pretty much trapped, unless Kael decided to…
In a panic, Kael stood up and sprinted away. For the first time so far in this confrontation, Sid was angry. "Fucker…" Sid panted as he began to pursue Kael, as Lee lay on the ground in the same position, hollering for Kael to return.
Kael panted as blood ran down his forearms, under his sleeves and further down his arms. His arms were soaked in scarlet as he cried for help. Sid, meanwhile, was gaining ground on Kael. The two ran across the beach, leaving Lee in the distance. They entered the suburban area which hosted the mansion where Kael and Lee stayed for a short time, as they transferred from the dirt path of the beach to the sidewalk of the residential area. Kael called out throughout the entire island;
"RUN! SID IS GONNA KILL ME! RUNNNNN!"
Sid, though he was quite angry with Kael, laughed at the stupid comment. He then sped up, now only about 5 meters behind Kael. He swiped with his saw, trying to make contact with Kael. Kael looked behind, and upon seeing Sid, tripped on a crack in the sidewalk.
Sid lunged onto Kael's back, then, getting up off of his back, turned him over. The two's eyes met, Sid's amused, chocolate eyes, with Kael's terrified, hazel ones. Kael, mustering up the rest of his courage, gathered a collection of spit in his mouth, oblivious to Sid, who was pretending to sharpen his saw, laughing. Kael then spat with all his might at Sid. Sid, knelt beside Kael, went livid. It was as if he hardly even recognized the fact that it was Kael's spit. He plunged the saw into Kael's throat. Sawing it back and forth like a saw normally would be used for, Kael screamed in agony. Sid's upper jaw quivered as he continued the horizontal motion. The saw's teeth ran across Kael's throat, severing the flesh which protected his esophagus. Kael screamed, and screamed, and screamed… Finally, Kael was unable to make any more sound. However, he could still feel all the pain.
Sid laughed as he watched Kael struggle… the idea of him being a tyrant was most amusing… Him over all. His dream come true. He continued the motion, until finally, Kael bled to death. Kael lay on the ground, his eye's slightly closed, his mouth, also, leaning slightly to the side. His skin was white, though everything on him and around him was red.
Sid hadn't even noticed, but Kael's jugular vein was coating his clothes and the sidewalk with blood. The blood sprayed like a fire hose, spraying Sid's shoulder with quite a decent amount of pressure. Sid nodded, then released the grip on his saw. He took up his saw from the severed throat. As he did, he saw that he had nearly decapitated Kael. He looked like a Pez Dispenser… though… horrible. His esophagus was showing, drowning in a pool of blood. It was similar to the wound which Mr. Rogers had. Sid stood up, then walked away to finish off his next victim; Lee. He re-traced his steps, then he flicked his saw around trying to get the bits of organ and excess blood off of it. He continued walking, then he got back to the beach. He saw Lee, who was leaning upward on the sand, possibly being hopeful that it was Kael who would return. Lee, upon seeing Sid, tried standing up, though it was no good with his wounded leg. He began to crawl through the blood sand, though he was making no progress. The sand would basically form around him, not letting him move at all. Lee shrieked as Sid stood behind him, then, he felt a dinosaur bite on his other leg. It continued hacking away, his leg crying with pain. EVERYTHING HURT for Lee. It was awful… He wished Sid weren't such a coward. The dinosaur bite then stopped, and he heard Sid walking away… Sid was going to leave him to die? Getting up into a kneeling position, he then screamed, "Coward! You fucking coward! You pussy! You goddamn, mother fucking, FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING PU…" Lee's life ended with a rifle blast to the back of his head. The hole in the back of his head was nearly clean, though the hole in the front of his head, where the bullet had exited, was surrounded by a crimson blood atop a canvas of stretched flesh. Since Lee had been kneeling as he died, his brains spilled out of the gaping hole in his head, falling to the sandy ground with a dull thud. The sand surrounding Lee was all sorts of red and pink, looking as though it had been a prepubescent girl's idea of how sand would be better.
Sid laughed, then he leant over Lee's corpse to inspect what weapons he had. As Sid walked closer, Lee's corpse fell to the ground, his head colliding with a splat with his juicy brain. Sid inspected Lee's hunting jacket, then his cargo pants. Finally, he found a belt of grenades. Sid nodded, grabbed the belt, and returned to the mansion from which he had come. As he entered the mansion, he retrieved his supply bag which was lying on a squashy armchair. He put the grenades in, hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and left.
Ike and Ryan walked through the trees, back up the hill. Ike was walking with the groups bags; his and Dante's supplies in one, Ryan's in the other. Ryan, meanwhile, held Dante onto his back in a piggy back position. The two hadn't moved far yet, though they had managed to reach C3. This was near where the school was, coated in trees. As the time reached 9:00 AM, they both became hungry for breakfast, only this time around, breakfast was definitely not a thing to worry about. Neither of them had spoken, for they were both equally concerned for Dante's safety. They couldn't think of anything to say… Not in a game as sinister as this, anyway.
BOYS NUMBER 15 LEE NOBLE DEAD
20 KAEL TENNANT DEAD
45 STUDENTS REMAIN
