Hour 3: The Best Laid Schemes?

The island of Caphraig was a small community outpost in the Western Isles of Scotland. A little under ten square miles, its small collection of fishermen in the south and crofters in the north were largely self-sufficient. A few visitors came by every now and again, and could be sold local goods, but these were mainly from other local islands. Over the years, a fort had been built on the north side of the island and a lighthouse on the south, but aside from a ruined monastery towards the centre-west and a seafood restaurant for the tourists in the south-east, all that existed on the rock was the usual island trappings.

Its remoteness made it an apparently strange choice of location for such a big event as the end of high school trip, yet this was the appeal and how it was sold to the St. Barnabus 6th Years ahead of more glamorous alternatives. For with few residents, and even fewer whose opinions actually mattered to anyone besides themselves, the students would essentially have free reign on the island to do whatever they wanted. Of course, since only a single student was intended to survive the trip, the authorities could freely give whatever incentives they liked to guarantee their preferred location.

The illusion of freedom on a level seldom experienced in the students' lives thus far was also how the entire class was persuaded to turn up. For most, the appeal of the trip itself sufficed; for others such as Silent Shimizu the natural peace and tranquillity of the island made it worthwhile. Freedom alone however explained the appearance of the Trio of Jenna Widdowson, Jemi Britcher and Rem Remnant. Mr. Morgan had made a good point as the students left the class – legally they had more freedom than humans had ever had since laws had ever been created – and it would be a shame not to take advantage of that.

For now though the Trio were divided, with Jenna and Jemi being forced to abandon their plan to wait for Rem outside the school due to the risk of being discovered by others. Since they had few friends beyond each other and inferior weapons, their chances of surviving an early encounter with gun-toting classmates were slim. Reluctantly therefore, they had to hope Rem was better armed and able to find them quickly.

Jenna however did not consider her weapon allocation to be a big problem, gleefully slicing the air with her katana while taking advantage of starlight being the only illumination on the ground. She took the lead as always, with Jemi walking beside and slightly behind her. They gave a slightly odd appearance, with the larger weapon being in the hands of the shorter girl; at around 5'10'' Jemi was four inches taller than her oldest friend. And the more she thought about it, the more she disliked the pneumatic spike-in-a-tube that had been in her backpack.

"Jenna, we need a plan". There was a note of frustration in her voice, but it was ignored.

"We have a plan. We find Rem, we kill everyone else, then…well I don't know what then but it's a bit early to think about that, no?" She seemed determined yet distracted, as though aware but unwilling to admit that that really wasn't what Jemi meant with her last statement.

"You're right, it is too early because if everyone else has guns and rockets then we're fucked. I mean look at us!" Jenna stopped in her tracks, almost causing Jemi to walk straight into her.

"You trying to say we're helpless here. Cos that's not how I see it." Turning around and laughing, Jenna swung her sword in front of Jemi, coming dangerously close to slashing her with it. Jenna locked onto her eyes with the same mischievous look she'd given Jemi on the bus. She found it oddly reassuring, and knew that Jenna had a point; they were just as capable as anyone else in a fight. More than most probably. Even so…

"Look you need to not over rely on that thing. I know katana are cool and that, but really, it's not a well made sword. The Japanese had shit iron and I don't think the British have anything better. It's only sharp on one side as well, and awkward to wield. No matter how awesome you look doing it."

"Ugh, are you lecturing me? Lighten up, I know it's crap but it's the best we have." The electric blue streaks in her long dark hair shone in the starlight. As ever she was in a corset, but had forsaken her usual long skirt for more practical dark jeans. Goth stereotypes aside, she had an intimidating appearance. It was wholly intentional of course, though Jemi still questioned whether or not that was advantageous here.

"Hence my question. What are we gonna do? How do you even start a killing spree anyway?" Jemi wasn't the most approachable of people herself, despite her typical neon pink/black colour combination giving her a deceptive air of vibrancy. Although Jenna was a few inches shorter than Jemi, she was easily the more imposing of the two. It was why Jenna was always perceived as the Trio's "leader", and the one to whom the others were more likely to turn than the other way around in crisis situations.

"It's not like you to be so uptight, not around me anyway -"

"Ask me if I'm okay and I'm gonna fucking deck you, not joking!" Jemi interrupted, taking a step back. Instinctively she raised the spike in front of her. Jenna looked concerned, but not because she saw herself in danger. Her friend was pale, and her demonic sense of humour missing from her voice. She knew what it was, admittedly; Jemi couldn't keep secrets from her, not that she ever would anyway. Basic psychology told her what to do though.

"Like I'd need to fucking ask," she replied with mock derision. "Who are you talking to?"

"The whore I'm gonna be killing in two days time. Unless you have any better ideas that is, and before you say you killing me remember I'll be making sure I've got the better weapon when we get to that point. You've got no chance." The confidence had returned to her voice but Jemi now faced away, her copper hair waving softly in the breeze.

"If you're that much of a threat to me maybe I should just kill you first then, and save time?" The reply was nonchalant, but sisterly affection adorned Jenna's face. She sheathed the katana. This was the real question Jemi wanted to ask.

"Could you?"

"It's what we've been ordered to do, we'll die ourselves if we don't. Hunter or hunted, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember, but it's not what I asked you, is it? Give me a straight answer or don't fucking bother." Jemi was physically closing in on herself, and Jenna leapt upon her back, locking her arms and legs in place so she couldn't escape. Her skin felt soft; if the endless rumours about the pair and lesbianism had been true, Jemi would have been at Jenna's mercy.

"I honestly don't know if I could do you or Rem. But you're the only ones I'd stop to think about. Good enough for you?"

"Not really, since I can't move." Jemi struggled a bit, though knew she wasn't getting away.

"I know, and I don't want you to. We need to think about things here. Okay so we might have to fight each other, but that could be ages away. Our only weapons are a crappy sword and a spike, and fuck knows where Rem's gone. You asked me how to start a killing spree a minute ago?" Jenna was enjoying the moment. A natural dom, having anyone under her control, even her best friend, was a good feeling. Jemi just nodded in answer to the question

"Simple, we sneak up behind someone and get them like this. Stop them from escaping, relieve them of their weapon, and murder them. All it takes is one target between the two of us and the rest become much easier. Even if they have a gun, if they're on their own and don't see us coming then they're screwed."

Jemi had to admit; it made sense. So what if it wasn't going to be a complete pushover? "If we could do that, we could cause a nice bit of pain as well with these things."

"Of course! We can make them beg for mercy they won't get. We deserve to survive, they don't. Most of the others are probably too shit scared to kill anyone anyway. That's why we'll win. God if you were anyone else, I'd be snapping your neck like a twig right now." Jenna released Jemi as she said the words.

"Alright then, nothing better to do the now anyway," she replied, sighing. As if there had been any doubt of how it would end…

"Shall we go hunting then?" Jenna asked, her nightmare-inducing smile adorning her face.

"No," replied Jemi, provoking a momentary look of confusion. "Hunting implies the possibility of failure. Let's go killing. Hang on, let me see that katana a moment?" Jenna cautiously passed it to her. "Oh dear. There's no blood on this yet. About time we changed that?" She handed it back to Jenna, who had already taken off.

"Now that's the Jemi I know and love talking. Keep it up and I won't have the heart to kill you!"

"Wasn't aware you had a heart in the first place Jenna."

"Fuck up!" Jenna laughed, hitting Jemi on the arm. Today was going to be a good day. The only certainty was that there would be blood, but that was as much as the two Goths needed to know as they sought out their first victim.

It was with a long reluctant sigh that Andrew Cruddas, one of the class's more muscular bodies, had made taken his first steps in the Program. As one of the first students to leave the classroom, he'd had time to consider his surroundings without the terror of being immediately cut down that those leaving last might be faced with. He'd seen the body. He knew that people were playing for real, which given what he knew about his peers was hardly surprising.

After all, what it came down to in the end was a simple balance of options. You could kill. You could get killed. Or you could do both by committing suicide. That really didn't make for much of a choice.

Pragmatism: the only worthwhile consideration at a time like this. One had to be willing to do what was necessary, since those who weren't would inevitably be destroyed by those who were. Someone had already proved they were, and based on the timings it was as likely as not Elyse Backman, Andrew's old friend and rival in the drama club.

It made sense for it to be her; given how competitive she was. She wasn't one to put friendship ahead of winning, and Andrew had realised very soon after leaving the classroom that he had to force himself to do likewise. It was how life worked after all, wasn't it? Survival of the fittest, all that kind of Darwinist stuff. It was all that mattered in the world now.

Of course there were practical considerations, such as the allocated weapon. That was what really disappointed Andrew. He held it in his hand all the same, but he struggled to see much benefit in a length of cheese wire. Whatever did in Manuel was certainly more impressive, and that person now had two weapons. Oh well, no point moping about it. If survival was to be on the cards then he'd have to scale up. Perhaps more to the point he'd have to prove himself capable of making it on the island.

Time passed as Andrew considered this. He found himself in a residential area of the island, though the term seemed relatively meaningless in so sparsely populated a place. Still, these were actual small houses, unlike the crofts scattered about the rest of Caphraig. They would make decent cover for anyone looking to use them as such, though Andrew himself was proof it could be considered too obvious a hiding place.

He clung tightly to the walls as he explored the area, careful to avoid being discovered. It didn't take long for his caution to pay off, as he sighted his first target. Richard Diallo apparently had a similar plan and was also creeping about the buildings. He wasn't taking so much care not to be seen though, which didn't surprise Andrew. Richard was a carefree kind of a guy. Easy-going and harmless. Apparently unarmed. And not long for this world.

Andrew was in front of Richard, each crawling along the side wall of two houses facing each other. Unseen, Andrew ducked quickly back around the corner, preferring to avoid a straight fight early on. Richard was hardly the pinnacle of strength, but Andrew would need to conserve his for later on, and hardier foes.

Richard turning right to go along the front wall, Andrew doubled back again to the wall he'd seen Richard on. Despite Andrew's bulk, he could be deceptively nimble when he wanted to, a trait which had served him well in high school. Aided by the darkness, he was soon just a few feet away and remained undiscovered.

Feeling the weight of his weapon in his hand, Andrew considered using it as a garrotte, but decided he couldn't get close enough to be undetected. It would have to serve as a whip instead. Not wanting to waste time and risk losing his quarry, he immediately lashed out at Richard, who was now walking along the opposite side wall of the building. The wire was met with a metal object that he swore Richard didn't have in his hand a second ago. As Richard spun around, Andrew found himself taken aback, the wire caught in the metal. Whatever it was, it was serrated and looked sharp.

Pulling the wire free, Andrew found himself face to face with his foe. In the scant light it was hard to see much of anything, but the lightweight Somalian had a distinctive physique. Andrew was clearly the stronger of the two; Richard's smaller frame belied his body's tonicity.

"I don't want ta fight you man, back away now and nobody gets hurt." The moonlight flashed slightly off the metal in the boy's hand, meaning Andrew could see it was a boomerang of some kind.

Andrew ignored the warning and struck out again, but could get no power in the blow because of the risk of self-injury. Again and again he snapped the whip forward, ignoring further requests to give up. Richard apparently meant what he said about not fighting, and was doing nothing to take the initiative. Occasional jabs of the boomerang were futile, as every crack of the whip increased Andrew's understanding and control of it, enabling him to strike with increased power.

With no serious resistance, Andrew had seen his chance and was taking it, circling around Richard to keep him pressed against the house's wall. Positioning himself side-on to minimise the risk of lacerating himself, his whip created an impassable barrier as he advanced on Richard, who was soon on the floor.

The length of the wire was limited, however, and this gave Richard room to manoeuvre. Only on two sides was he completely cut off, so with nothing to lose he stuck the boomerang out to catch the wire, and with the deft movement learned from years of Judo, swept Andrew's legs out from under him. With two quick twists of his wrist, the wire was soon trapped around the boomerang's serrations and Richard was atop Andrew.

"I told ya not a fight me boy, the fuck you doing? You think I thought I was alone out here?" Despite his words, and the fact that he was towering over Andrew, Richard still seemed as nonchalant as ever, appearing to take some amusement in what was happening. A curious smile adorning his face, he tugged on the wire with the boomerang to see if Andrew would release it, but his grip held firm.

"You, what, thought you'd kill me with this? Cos I like a joke and a smile I'ma soft touch aye? Listen close eh, I'll gut you like a fuckin' fish." Andrew had to breathe in sharply to avoid the wire as Richard jabbed with the boomerang, slacking the wire and sending it dangerously close to Andrew's chest.

"Since when were you a murderer, didn't you always say martial arts were for defence? That's why you do judo, isn't it?"

Richard laughed. "Christ man you're pathetic. Like you're one ta talk about killing! Thought you were the sensible type…"

"Sensible means different things at different times I guess. So what, you're gonna kill me now then?"

"That depends…you still want ta dance?" With that Richard, who seemed slightly annoyed at that last remark, hefted Andrew to his feet, spun himself around twice to release the wire and flicked his wrist up, sending it flying towards Andrew's face before positioning himself ready for a counter.

Andrew ducked to avoid his own weapon but soon found himself floored again, dodging a slash from the boomerang as Richard finally went on the offensive. It was a strange weapon, but it made a convenient ersatz cutlass and Andrew could tell he was outmatched.

Kicking out at Richard's left leg to unbalance him slightly, Andrew threw himself inelegantly to the side to avoid the next blow. Pulling himself up as quickly as he could, he fled the scene, though Richard did not seem to pursue. Andrew thought he could hear the sound of Richard still chuckling behind him, but paid it no mind.

Once he was clear, Andrew looked himself over to make sure he hadn't taken any injuries. No, somehow he'd come away unscathed, and he did still have his wire. His pride however was shattered, and he had little more idea than before as to how he was going to improve his chances in the Program. Maybe stealth was the answer – perhaps getting up close and garrotting his next foe was the better option. Richard did have better reflexes than Andrew had assumed, which was an almost fatal mistake on his part. Next time there could be none of that. Next time would be the real thing. It was early days yet, so no need to worry. Composing himself, Andrew headed off in search of his next target.

Whether darkness favoured those who would attack or those trying to hide was debateable; it was hard to find potential targets, but easy to avoid being seen once one had been sighted. But it was reflexes, one's allocated weapon, and good old fashioned luck that really decided encounters.

Such was the observation of one who had seen the predatory movements of Andrew Cruddas and feared he would be the one detected and targeted. But today, fortune had favoured Jake Wilson, and with Richard Diallo sending Andrew on the run, Jake could escape. He did not forsake the opportunity.

Admittedly, Jake did possess the capacity to defend himself, an aluminium baseball bat being in his bag, but right now the glimmering metal made it more a beacon for aggressors than a survival tool. Not that he could stand the thought of using it anyway except for actual baseball, which he didn't know anything about. For now, he simply ran through the bushes, hoping he wasn't making enough noise to be detected. Nobody shouted after him at least.

Catching his breath in a clearing, he tried to slow the thoughts racing through his mind. What had he just borne witness to? How had it happened and why? Neither Andrew nor Richard was dead, but that seemed more luck than anything else. He didn't want to dwell too much on the specifics, knowing it wouldn't do much good, though as an analytical person it was something he did automatically. Doing so also delayed admitting the reality of the situation, which was that Jake was alone and he was scared.

He was known for being eager to please people, and was well-liked because of it, but he'd always been a little sensitive and fearing of being targeted. That was because he'd admitted his homosexuality a couple of years previously, and while to say he was flamboyant was a bit of a stretch, it wasn't wholly inaccurate. Society's almost violent movement against intolerance had benefited people like him enormously, a little residual fear notwithsranding. Support from his cousin Anna and all of her friends, who were among the most popular girls in school had helped ease that though.

He was grateful for their support in all aspects of his life, and wanted nothing more than to be with them now. Anna could be quite headstrong, but given that Jake wasn't it was what he needed at the moment. If he could find her then she'd protect him. He had plenty of other friends in the class, but wasn't sure how many of them he could rely on.

Even Layne Diallo, his best friend after his cousin and Alexander Vasselin. Normally even now Jake would be thinking Layne would be trustworthy, but having just seen his twin brother try to kill someone, he wasn't so sure. Granted, Layne was almost the polar opposite of Richard, but that was, if anything, the point. Richard was the calm and carefree brother, Layne the highly strung one. Yet as soon as he got the chance, the knives were quite literally out. What would Layne be doing right now?

Cowardice is nothing to be ashamed of. You attack from afar, unseen and in unexpected ways, that's how you win your battles. It's who you are. The words of Anna's close friend and one of Jake's strongest allies through the years, Sadie Willis, came to him again. She was talking about chess, in which he was a hypermodern player who avoided direct confrontations, and life itself. He'd always believed her, and gone through life happy and content because of it, but now he knew doubt.

Now he felt pain in his heart. At that moment it struck him. His thoughts since his escape from the battle all made sense now – his loneliness, his fear, his desire to exchange whatever help he could offer for his own protection; he knew what he had to do. He knew who he was looking for.

For all his close friendships, male and female, Jake had never had a serious boyfriend. So before he died, he was going to have one, even if it couldn't be for long. What's more, he knew exactly who he wanted. Feeling now ever so slightly reinvigorated, he determined he would hold onto that for as long as it took to find the object of his affection. Sadie was right; he won his battles in unexpected ways. This one being more difficult than most didn't mean he couldn't or wouldn't do so again. Perhaps I'll get to thank you for telling me that, he thought as he crept away.

When the time came to discuss an end of year trip, the idea of somewhere remote had seemed appealing to Alexander Vasselin. It would make a nice change from the usual city highlights. Now however he found himself missing certain modern conveniences that one generally took for granted, like adequate street lighting. Stumbling around in the darkness, he could see the dazzling floodlights outside the school behind him but very little in front. He couldn't even see the map he'd been given to work out where he was going. Nor could he see the equally confused petite girl just a few feet ahead.

Screaming, Emily Green realised a second later how foolish that was and turned around, backing away as she tried to see who or what it was. It didn't look too dangerous, but then Manuel might have thought the same thing not much earlier.

"Who's there, who-who is it?" The mysterious figure sounded strangely as scared as she did.

"Please don't hurt me!"

"Hurt you? Em-Emily? Is that you? It's me, Alex!" Normally his soft voice would have been some comfort to her, but not here. He raised his hands as he edged towards her, but she continued to resemble a deer caught in headlights. At least he didn't look armed.

"How do I know you're not going to do to me what someone did to Manuel? Come on, you saw it!"

Alexander was slightly bemused; anxious as Emily often was, this was terror like he'd never seen in her. She did have a point though. He shook himself out of it before he could dwell on it. At any other time he'd be sitting her down and talking things through. Not now though. He didn't have time. He was looking for someone and in this light it was hard enough to find anyone anyway, let alone if he wasted time like this.

It tugged at his heart to even say it – there was being pragmatic and then there was abandoning someone who needed his help. Just this once though, he had to put his own needs first, before it was too late.

"Emily you're just going to have to trust me on this – I'm not your enemy and I'm going away now anyway. I just need to ask you something, okay? Just calm down, I'll stay back here if it makes it easier for you."

"Fine. Alright. Just don't come any closer, what is it?" Reluctantly standing her ground, Emily realised that even like this it was impossible to be scared of wee gay Alex. You could have a pillow fight with someone and they'd hit harder than Alex with a rock.

"Kenji left the classroom right before you, so since I was after you he can't be far away. You seen him about anywhere?"

"Er, uhm, no sorry I haven't I'm afraid! Why do you want to find him if you don't mind my asking?"

His heart sank. "Oh it's…nothing, just got a few things I need to check with him is all. Long story that I don't really have time to tell just now…um try to take it easy if you can yeah? Good luck out there, I think we're all going to need it!" He laughed weakly, but knowing he'd probably never see her again made it hard.

"Thanks, you too-" She tried to reply. But Alex was already gone, so she just stood there, slightly bewildered but too aware of the precariousness of her own situation to worry about his.

As Alexander ran, he desperately hoped he wasn't too far behind his target - unaware that Kenji was facing the other direction when he moved on from the school. Still, time remained for them to meet as long as each still drew breath. For how long that would remain the case however neither yet knew, and was Alexander's fear.