===First Hour 36 Contestants Remaining ================
So, who the fuck are you?" Boy#16 David Webb's voice was still uneasy as he talked to the slim blonde girl standing before him. They had just run away from the starting building, and now, after almost ten minutes solid running, had finally stopped. David's heart was racing in his chest, and he struggled to breathe. He hadn't run so far and so fast in a long, long time. Across from him, Girl#16 Maria Sands stood, leaning against a tree with one arm behind her, the other firmly tucked inside her pocket. David dropped his pack to the ground, and sat down. She looked over at him.
"I'm....." Maria seemed to pause, looking him up and down, her eyes seemingly boring through him. "I'm Maria." She turned around and dropped her pack to her feet, then crouched down beside it. All the while her eyes were trained on David. She started to look through her pack quickly, with a sense of purpose. After a few moments, she lifted up a hand grenade.
"Holy shit, that what I think it is?" David spoke quietly. He couldn't believe what she was holding up. Maria looked at it for a moment, and then chucked it back into the pack. Then she looked back up at David. He felt her eyes right on him.
"Check yours. " She said, already rummaging through the pack for something else. David looked down at his pack, and clumsily undid the zip. Inside the pack were a couple of bottles of water, the map, some tins with no labels, and then a small wooden handle. David clutched the handle and pulled it up towards him, revealing the small axe on the end of it. He lifted it up and showed it to Maria, who was now holding her map.
"What should I do with it?" David asked. Maria's head jolted up and she looked at the axe. After a moment or two, she just shrugged, and returned to staring at the map. David clasped the handle, and pushed it into the belt of his jeans. Maria looked up at him, her blonde hair covering most of the right side of her face. "So who are you?" David spoke in barely a whisper. She lowered the map she was reading, and looked at him.
"Look. I remember being in bed, then I woke up here." She shook her head. "I didn't know any of the others I was with. Probably just some sick idea to encourage us to distrust each other." She looked down at her clothes. "And I'd probably be scared of someone wearing this too." Maria stood up, and looked at him. He looked up at her.
"So what's the plan?" David spoke, and before he could even finish his sentence she had a small smile on her face. Maria shook her head again, her fringe moving back and forth slightly against her face.
"There is no plan. And don't take this the wrong way, but I am not staying with you. You've heard the stories, best way is alone" David was crestfallen. Admittedly he didn't have a clue that she was, but it was still better than being alone, wasn't it?
"What about me? What am I gonna fucking do? You saw it; the fucking nut cases are playing the game." Maria thought for a moment, and then crouched down in front of David, so they were face to face. David found it hard to look her in the eyes.
"Find somewhere to hide, at least till the day. It should be less dangerous during the day. The map says there is a caravan site not too far from here. "She stood back up. David sat there, gawking at her. How did she act so calm, so clear? David was struggling to keep his emotions under check. He felt like he was going to throw up or cry any moment. Maria however, seemed a picture of calm.
"Who are you?" David exclaimed at Maria. She stared at him with her green eyes. He could see a deep sadness.
"I....I am a patient, well a resident, of a psychiatric home. And I am guessing that the others with me have the same story....Now I don't know who they are, or what's wrong with them." Her eyes dropped down, and for a moment, David thought that he saw the real Maria, scared, lonely and upset. Then her eyes flicked back up to meet his, and the outer shell was back up. "Well...goodbye" Maria turned and slowly walked away, and in a few moments, blended into the darkness. David sat there for a while. Maria seemed normal, fine even. What about the other five? How bad could they be?
Boy#13Martin Steel was close to collapsing. He had been running for almost twenty minutes, powered by terror of what was behind him. He sped through the forest, jumping over roots and avoiding leaves and hedges. He already had several scratches on his face and arms from the sharp tree branches, and his normally well combed hair was getting more and more bedraggled as he ran. Martin's lungs felt like they were on fire, and his thighs ached, but he was too scared to stop. He burst his way through a hedge, and came sliding to a stop. He had run out onto a field, which was filled with caravans and mobile homes. The grass under his feet was very short. In the middle of the field, winding its way past the caravans was a small gravel road. The whole thing was well lit with the light of the full moon beaming down. Martin stood in bewilderment, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he gasped for breath. It looked like some sort of camp site. He unzipped his pack, and pulled out the map. His laboured breathing causing his hand to shake. He checked the map, and sure enough, there it was. In the grid south of the starting point, a small square filled with smaller black squares, all under a label declaring it to be "Skelton Campsite" Martin shook his head and put the map away. He thought they were on some sort of deserted island, just trees and rocks and mud. He didn't expect there to be campsites and roads. They had never mentioned buildings in the news. Martin slowly moved towards a small caravan in the middle of the site, it was the kind that could be towed by a normal, everyday car. He tried the door. To his surprise, it opened, and Martin looked inside. There was a kitchen bit, with the toilet opposite, and at the front was a fold away table and two sofas, which Martin concluded, must fold into beds. He stepped inside, and closed the door. It was very dark, and Martin fumbled in his pocket for the torchlight. Flicking it on, he locked the door behind him, before moving over to the front of the caravan. He pulled the thick curtains closed before sitting down, placing the torch down on the table so that it pointed at the rear of the caravan, providing him with enough light to see. Martin looked around. He knew he was taking a risk by stopping near to the starting building, but this was a genuine piece of luck. It was warm and dry, and it was a proper bed. He told himself that he would only stay till the morning.
Martin then lifted up his pack onto the sofa, and began unpacking it onto the table. There was three large bottles of water, several tins; all with the ring pull on the top, and lacking labels. There was the map, which had the compass and a marker pen inside its clear bag. And finally, reaching to the bottom of his pack, Martin found his weapon. It was cold and heavy, very heavy. Martin had to use both hands to lift it up and out of the bag, and place it on the table. It was a gun, but unlike any gun he had seen. It had the normal end of the gun, and in the middle was a large, drum-like circle. Then another handle, and then the short barrel. Martin stared at it for a moment, and then felt around in the pack. He pulled out two boxes, filled with shotgun shells. He then felt around in the pack to see if he had forgotten anything. He felt a slim, booklet move past his fingers, and after grabbing it, it pulled it up to have a look. On the front of the book was a picture of a gun, the same gun that now sat in front of him. He opened the booklet.
"Welcome to the operational manual for the AC-12 Automatic Shotgun..." Martin quickly flicked through the booklet, scanning the picture instructions on how to load the gun, and how to keep the gun clean. He chucked the booklet onto the table, and rubbed his tired eyes with his hands. Martin hoped that his friends were alright. He had been the last one out, and Martin could remember the terrified look on Steven's face, or the panicked look on Penny's, as she ran for the exit. He hoped to god that they were alright. Martin slowly reached forward for the shotgun, and a box of shells. He had no intention of using it, but he knew that he had to be prepared. With his left hand, he opened up the curtain covering the window slightly, and peered out. It was still and silent. As he turned back to load the gun, Martin told himself that he would not play this game, no matter what. He didn't care what had happened in previous games, he knew he wasn't a killer.
Boy#7 Nigel Fullwell was running for his life, his obese body straining every muscle to move faster. Behind him was a flurry of movement as Boy#3 James Bedford chased after him, sprinting as fast as he could through the trees. Behind James was Boy#9 Mike Nesson, who was also running at full speed, clutching a small log as a weapon? To the left of him was Boy#14 Ben Taylor, who clutched the Automatic Glock tightly in his hand as he tried to aim at Nigel through the trees. Behind them, leading up the rear of the group was Girl#13 Rachel Moore, and Boy#12 Peter Smith. They were both considerable less athletic than the rest of the group, and now lagged at the back. Peter clutched his side as a stitch ran right through it, but he knew he couldn't stop. They had bumped into Nigel by accident. After they had been attacked by the loonie in the prison outfit, they had fled into the woods. After they had been moving for about twenty minutes, they started to hear a rough wheezing ahead of them, and they soon came across Nigel, desperate to get his breath back. He saw them, and before they could surround or threaten him, he had taken off with surprising speed. Peter shook his head as he ran. Surely Nigel knew there was no point running? He was being chased by two of the most athletic people in the year. There was simply no way he could outrun them.
Ahead of Peter, Nigel was terrified. He could hear them behind him, branches snapping and footsteps, and the swish of nylon against nylon. His lungs were on fire and his heart was in overdrive but he could hear them gaining on him. Nigel dare not look back. Jumping over exposed roots and avoiding low branches, he had to keep his eyes on what was in front of him. Then he heard a loud BANG and a tree no more that a metre away from him splintered and cracked. He heard a muttered "Fuck" from behind. Nigel pushed with all his night, his muscles burning and his body gasping for air as he lurched forward. He was so engrossed in watching what was directly in front of him; he didn't notice the steep hill, only a matter of metres ahead of him. As he started to go down the hill, his foot slipped on a bit of loose soil. Sliding backwards, Nigel flailed his arms as he went down. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, and after rolling over on his side a few times, came to a stop as his back smashed against a tree. Groaning with what little breath he had in his lungs, Nigel looked up at the top of the hill. The six of them standing there, looking at him. One of them moved forward, his hand lifting up. Nigel saw the gun in their hand, and finally the dim light from the moon shone on Ben Taylor's face. Nigel felt his bladder empty itself. Ben's face screwed up in disgust.
"Little fuckin fatty has pissed his panties. You scared fatman?" Ben smiled for a moment. "You fuckin should be." Nigel struggled to speak, the words felt heavy, sluggish in his throat.
"P-p-p-please.....please don't" Ben leaned back and looked at the others.
"Oh, looks like fatty here doesn't understand what's going on." Ben turned to face Nigel. Then aimed the gun at Nigel's head. Nigel began to whimper, and before he could start to cry or plea for mercy. BANG. Nigel juddered slightly as the glock barked, and then was still. Ben stood there for a moment, then after picking up Nigel's pack, headed back up the hill to join the rest of his group. They needed to keep moving if they wanted to reach the village by morning.
====Boy#7 Nigel Fullwell Dead. 35 Students Remaining ============
===First Hour 35 Contestants Remaining ================