Hour 6: The Skater and the Broken Bird
Being in the Program meant facing up to a few home truths, questioning the realities of your life, and considering who could be trusted. For Olly King, the answer to that question was simple – everyone, or close to it. Even in such dangerous times, and even with a dead body outside the classroom, Olly was convinced that the fear induced in everyone by the Government rather was the problem they faced. Not everyone in the year got along, and there were a few weak relationships, but for the most part everyone got along. Even if the others didn't see things that way, by taking the initiative in extending trust, you increased the chances of being shown it yourself.
This was how he'd stumbled into a relationship with the one girl nobody expected he of all people would ever go out with, Natasha Checketts. Olly was the class clown, a position that wasn't contested due to his main rival, David Remnant, being a socially maladjusted Goth. Tash, on the other hand, was stuck up and sardonic, and known to hate anyone she considered inferior to her. In other words, most people.
"You're deluded. You…do know that, right? Because I want us to be clear on that. I know you've always tried to see the good in people and I honestly think that's adorable, but when you gonna wake up a bit?" Tash had left the classroom just before Olly, and not considering anyone who left after her a threat had chosen to wait around to see if he turned up. He did, and was obligingly following her in return for her generously waiting.
"Always look on the bright side of life…always look on the right side of life! If life seems jolly rotten, there's something you've forgotten! And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing!" Olly sang in as grotesquely happy a tone as he could manage, which almost earned him a slap from Tash. She considered it for a minute, but realised she didn't have the heart. Most people tended to agree that she didn't have one at all. What was Olly thinking?
"Laugh it up all you like, but sooner or later you're gonna have to face the facts. You don't have a plan, you can't get one and you can't pull it off."
"Tash, come on, the relentless cynicism is a bit boring, don't you think? I don't see you with any better ideas like!" Tash turned around and started moving again, slightly faster than before. Olly sighed and followed.
Despite his obedience, Olly knew he was right. Tash had no idea what to do. Olly's idea was to rally the class, getting everyone together to settle any remaining differences and work things out together. He knew a few others would already have that idea, so it was just a case of forming a coherent plan with them. Tash remained unconvinced, despite his attempts to change things. Yet for all her talk, bitchiness and general dark attitude towards people, she wasn't a fighter. In this place, killing meant getting down and dirty and doing it yourself. She didn't have that in her.
Her strange social attitudes were understandable though, given some of what she'd been through. She wasn't one for melodrama or whining about her past, but Olly knew that sexual abuse had taken place when she was younger. She'd been adopted from Sri Lanka as a toddler and fallen foul of the system. Olly was her first boyfriend in whom she saw something other than sex, and he liked to think he was helping her with her issues. It wasn't her fault she didn't trust people; seldom in her life had she been given cause to do so. So for all that she dismissed his eternal optimism as petty, Olly knew it was important to her, just as her dark cynicism attracted her to him.
As he traipsed along behind her, he sighed, knowing that she wasn't the only one for him. The skater boy punk rocker had fallen into this relationship accidentally, and at least part of that was his attraction to his best friend, who was rather like Tash but without the high class fashion taste or superiority complex.
So he had to face up to reality when on Caphraig? Then even if he'd never admit it to Tash, he had to at least confide in himself that the girl he really wanted to be following right now was Laurinda Davies – whom Tash hated. Olly just had to hope that his determination to be the good guy wouldn't make him the nice guy who finished last.
"Hurry up, I'm losing sight of you!" Tash seemed to be losing patience fast. Realising this, Olly ran to catch up to her, continuing to whistle Monty Python songs as he did so.
Kenji Kamin was confused. Everything was weird and unnerving, and it was tough for him to get his head around things. The boy was a bit of an anomaly within the class, which left him oddly placed when thinking about how he might be treated. He was aligned with the Anti-Clique, meaning he wore the badge labelled "annoying and irritating" that they all did. The flipside was that Kenji was unique even among them.
He held both their defining interests – politics and religion – but unlike the others he was an easygoing, open-minded prankster. Ah those Japanese puppy eyes, curse of many trying to get one over on him. Despite his differences though he was one of them, and the only one who was genuinely idealistic rather than simply pretending to be. He held the thought a moment; there was someone nearby.
"Thera? Of all the people, how are you doing?"
Thera May was vaguely aware of someone addressing her nearby, but wasn't really interested in whoever it was. The sun was starting to poke out through the clouds, suggesting a nice day. That made sense; it was her holiday and she deserved a nice day. Anything else wouldn't have been fair on her. She'd never been to Caphraig and was admiring the scenery, a curious mix of greenery and rough rocks. She wasn't quite sure where she'd wandered to but exploring was fun all the same.
"Hello? Can you hear me?"
A faint buzzing sounded in Thera's ear, but she ignored it. She had barely a care in the world right now; after all it wasn't like anyone would ever hurt her. She was too nice for that! She was tall and slender with curly brown hair that sat just nicely around her shoulders, framing her warm blue eyes. Sporting her usual black jacket and blue jeans combo, she knew how good she looked right now. Hell most people would be too in awe of her to even think about causing any problems. They usually were, as she saw it.
"Listen, I need you to help clear things up for me. Have you seen-"
"Everybody's talking at me. I don't hear a word they're saying, only the echoes of my mind," Thera sang sweetly to herself, to drown out the background noise. All she wanted to hear was her own mind. It wasn't that she didn't like people; quite the opposite, she liked everyone and they liked her. It was why she'd joined the drama club – it gave her the chance to showcase her talents to people, and they the chance to show her admiration.
Turning around, Thera saw someone standing not far from her. Whoever it was seemed to be trying to speak, but she could hear no words. His lips were moving, but if he was talking she couldn't hear it. It was a curious sight, and she stood a moment, gazing at the person, who had now started gesturing randomly. Oh, he's wandered off. What was that about?
Come to think about it, Thera didn't care. She was a patient, approachable woman most of the time, but right now she was tired and didn't really want an audience. What she wanted was somewhere to lie down and enjoy the scenery. She looked at her map, wondering if there was a beach anywhere. It didn't matter. All that did was that she was on holiday with all her friends, and more to the point they were all here with her. This really was such a pretty little island, she thought.
They hate you, you know. They all do. Because you killed her. And don't even try to claim you didn't. Now you're going to suffer.
"I am suffering God I just want it to end help me!"
No one can. You're alone. It's where you've always been, where you belong. You're on a collision course with destiny and a lot more people will die before it comes to pass.
"I don't even know what my destiny is."
Of course not. It's a secret, the one that the world is keeping from you. Just like you've kept secret from the world the reason behind it all, the reason why you are and ultimately have always been on a different wavelength from everyone you've ever known. Save the one girl whose need for your help changed your life forever. How ironic that your pain gives her comfort; the solace that comes with knowing she's really two of a kind – a terminally ill castaway of a world that rejects you both. You're thinking about that day aren't you? Watch your head.
Rebounding off the tree in front of him, a dazed Adam Lewis fell to the ground, the forward momentum he'd built up from the last several hours of running sending him flailing backwards. He didn't have time to watch where he was going.
"Be still my thoughts get away run away take me to dreamer's hideaway! Oh come on you fucking idiot, I'm still sane yet."
He'd been running ever since he left the classroom, and his meagre stamina was all but exhausted. He had no destination. No idea how to find the girl who could unlock the secrets of the Legacy of the Anti-Clique. Where could Holly Morgan be? But now Adam felt himself descending into the past. His subconscious was right; the day he discovered what he was enveloped him.
The one girl was Kim Magdalene. Adam had known of her depression since she started hanging around with their group. At the time she didn't fully understand it so, once she felt properly secure around her new friends she'd come to them. Adam's true help though came as a result of a fateful encounter, one that she had put down to God's guiding influence.
His mind pictured her perfectly. She was of average height and slender in an indifferently feminine kind of way; by no means did she have film star looks, but on her day she could give the more traditionally beautiful girls like Holly a decent run. Her eyes, though a window into a troubled past, were warm and inviting. Due to her addictions however she lately looked increasingly emaciated – something she tried to stave off with makeup, though even that wasn't really enough these days. There was no sexual attraction between Kim and Adam, but if there had been he wouldn't have said no.
But no, he was her friend and just wanted to help her. It was all he had ever wanted, it was what he liked to do and for his part he was good at it.
"No!" Deliberately breaking his own chain of thought, fury now filled him at falling into such a daydream. "I'm on a hunt, I'm searching for someone. I don't have time to reminisce about my past!"
Adam, your past is relevant to your future. Where you are going can only be determined through consideration and understanding of from whence you came.
"I've no wish to think about myself. I hate myself, just as everyone else rightly hates me for the attention-seeking murderer that I am. Claims that it wasn't my fault are useless and irrelevant. What's done is done. Maybe I can change their opinion – maybe I can't. Either way, devoting my time to anything but my quest is just a waste."
Picking himself up off the ground, Adam looked at the tracking device in his hands. From what he could establish of it, it had some sort of connection to the collars. He struggled to make complete sense of it, but in some far corner of it a red dot beeped. Lacking any other clues, he ran off in its direction.
Although his thoughts were no longer on it, Adam knew that Kim was the only one who could fully understand what he was going through, as she was the only one who knew. He'd accidentally interrupted her in the middle of an attempt to hang herself, having forgotten he was due to visit her. They'd been fourteen at the time, but it was neither the first nor last time for her. Still, Adam's invitation to accompany her to therapy sessions was much appreciated, and it became an event for them that not even Mark Johnson or Peter Lucianus was involved with.
Yet Adam's own behaviour had come to the notice of the doctors before long. His public dialogues with his own subconscious, his involuntary, nonsensical speech, occasional panic attacks and emotional instability, especially when under extreme duress – after the first few attendances with Kim, her therapist and her staff had seen them all, and eventually persuaded him to talk to them in his own right.
It wasn't long before a diagnosis was given, which in turn gave Kim the chance to repay Adam's loyalty by going along with him when he visited the doctors for therapy or advice. She herself, as one who hid her condition from all but her chosen few friends, was able to help him. He didn't even want the rest of his group to know about it, only Kim. Thus he learned to work around it, and live as close to a normal life as possible.
In the classroom, many considered Adam insane, as indeed they had done for most of the years they'd known him. None but Kim knew, or would ever know, how right they were. For it was their little secret that on October 25th 2016, just two days before his 15th birthday, Adam Lewis was diagnosed with schizophrenia.
Since the Program had begun some six hours ago, everyone would have had their own perspectives on what to do. In all likelihood, some would have struggled with the concept, finding it difficult to work out whether surviving was worth it, and if it was then how to go about ensuring it. For others though it was all too easy. Man's survival instinct could not and should not be denied, and apparently the only way to act on that was to kill everyone in one's way. For Darren Cooper, the only problem was that he wasn't the only one with the latter idea in mind.
Someone had had a really good idea early on, by waiting outside the school and picking people off early. What wasn't so clear, aside from who it was, was why there was only one body. The people who left after Manuel were no more threatening than he was, so why stop with him? He hoped it was because whoever did it lost the taste for doing so. In that case, the killer was him or herself a target.
Still, such wanderings of the mind were pointless. He had to stay focussed as long as he could, for Darren had targets of his own in sight. Patience was a virtue, so it was said, and such had to be his approach. He'd seen them walking together relatively carefree not long after leaving the school, and decided to follow.
Jenna Widdowson and Jemi Britcher had definitely been two of those likely to take the rest of the class on; they hated just about everyone in it, which was entirely mutual. Anyone with a clear shot at them would probably have taken it gladly, either to get rid of evil people or to stop them getting the first attack in.
And that was the thing – someone had already done exactly that. Minutes ago, an unknown sniper had slaughtered Jemi, leaving Jenna on her own, fleeing death from two angles. Darren had bided his time because his weapon, a battle axe, was comparable to the sword carried by one of the girls and the spike apparently held by the other. Between them they were probably too much for him in a straight fight; he wanted to look for a chance to separate them. Now his saviour from above had given him his cue. He'd broken cover and charged after Jenna.
Of course, it was a gamble; the sniper was in the lighthouse and had no reason not to take out Darren himself. It was too late to worry about that though. For without having seen him in advance Darren had three choices: try and climb the lighthouse to kill the sniper, flee, or go after Jenna. All three included the risk of death by high-powered rifle, so he opted to stick with the original plan – Jenna was dangerous enough when happy, and if she had a chance to get her head around Jemi's death then God help anyone on earth in her way.
So Darren ran roughly north-west across the harsh, stony ground, fearing a bullet going into his back but trying not to think about it. His pianist's fingers gripped his axe threateningly, making sure Jenna knew what fate awaited her when she stopped running. He wasn't athletic, being another skinny boy of average height, but he'd spent every minute since leaving the classroom psyching himself up for this.
Nothing else mattered anymore. It was all for one, not one for all. Anyone who wouldn't try and kill him wasn't making it out alive either way, so what else could he do but take on those who would? This sadistic bitch was certainly in the latter category.
Like everyone else in the year, Darren had been on the receiving end of abuse from her in the past. He was religious and liked to do charity work, including spending time abroad during school holidays. She was atheist and enjoyed demeaning his faith. He didn't care if she thought he took it too seriously; organ music wasn't the most popular genre but he had a natural talent for it, and with his church needing an organist who was he to turn down the offer?
As he ran, he briefly considered God's role in all this. Truthfully he didn't think he played one. To Darren, God was more the kind of being who observed mortal affairs than took direct control of them. The paradox of free will had struck again, and left God himself facing a Catch-22 situation. A satirist couldn't have written that one better. In any event, it left him on his own. Thou shalt not kill, but if he made it out alive, Darren knew he could make it up to God in other ways. This was Hobson's choice and no more; surely that wasn't Hell-worthy?
His thoughts returned to more pertinent matters; Jenna had lost her footing and fallen on a grassy knoll. No more bullets had flown past, and both she and Darren were still alive, so for whatever reason the sniper hadn't followed up his earlier attack. But that was no longer relevant. Not far before the horizon, about a mile away, a broad forest loomed. Jenna had apparently hoped to hide therein, which Darren had to admit was a nice idea. But then it was her general aptitude as much as her physical strength that made her a threat in the first place.
He wasted no time with brazen speeches or savouring the moment. There was no beauty in the kill, it was an ugly but necessary business, and his task was not completed until the last life had been extinguished from his opponent. His double-sided axe swung down and forward towards Jenna, but she was not prone as she momentarily appeared, quickly rolling over and meeting his weapon with her own.
Jenna was arched awkwardly on the slight incline, appearing as though sitting on the floor and leaning backwards over the arm of a sofa. It was a position that afforded little defensive opportunity, and with Darren's axe blade being heavier than that of her katana she could not easily push free. She tried to kick him off balance with her legs but Darren jumped back slightly to stop her, pushing his arms forward. He knew however that he could not break her sword this way, nor would forcing it into her face do anything. Yet withdrawing his axe might have given her the chance to make a return strike. The discomfort Jenna's posture caused her back benefitting Darren, he made it worse by forcing her arms towards her head with his own.
Seeing her in pain, he decided to try and force her to make herself more vulnerable, by stamping hard on her left foot. Jenna cried out in pain, the return pressure exerted against Darren's axe released. Drawing the axe back, he quickly swung for her right side, only to miss as she threw herself to her left, off the incline and face-first into the muddy grass. The axe hit the rock underneath the thin layer of mud and grass, but Darren attacked again swiftly, with a forward motion, hoping to catch her on the ground before she could recover.
This time however it was he who was caught unawares, as Jenna extended her legs to trip him, drawing them in when she fell so as not to be trapped as she was a moment ago. She could only catch Darren's right knee awkwardly on the inside, but as he had not expected it, it was enough to disrupt his balance. Her left heel struck his right ankle from the outside as the axe fell clumsily forward, Darren's full strength no longer guiding the thrust.
The slightly awkward ground meant Jenna couldn't pull herself to her feet as easily as she'd have liked, so she instead rolled towards him so that she was between Darren and his axe. Her right leg shot up in an instant between Darren's legs, sending him immediately recoiling from the pain. Now Jenna could get back on her feet.
Her pupils were large, her mind unable to fully process what had just happened. She dared not even try and think about it. An axe was before her, and the boy holding it still did so with murderous intent.
Darren was shaken by the unexpected counterattack, but did his best to stay focussed. Regaining his balance and ignoring the throbbing pain in his groin, he quickly raised the axe for another swing. As it cut through the air diagonally down towards Jenna's right side, her katana met it in midair. She wasn't even looking directly at it or him and had swung blindly. Darren could only look on in horror as he saw the axe blade fall to the ground, severed at the top of the shaft.
Nausea filled him as he took a step backwards, a foot long column of wood his only defence against an enraged Jenna and her katana. He tried to choke out a cry for mercy, but could only splutter. She nonetheless seemed to realise what he was doing.
"Go on, try it. You're charismatic, people believe your lies don't they? Did God tell you to kill me? Did He "send" you after me and Jemi don't even try to deny it I know you were following me!"
Darren could see that there was little coherence to Jenna's words and thoughts right now, but he could also see that it was no longer his problem. In his final seconds he tried to accept the inevitable slicing of her katana as it cut deep into his chest. As it entered his body just below his right shoulder, she forced it into him and cut diagonally down the length of his torso. Darren was already long dead when she withdrew and began to hack wildly at his body, blood drunk.
After several minutes Jenna allowed herself to fall again upon the rock jutting out of the knoll. Her breathing was fast paced but erratic, her mind feeling caught between realities. She was vaguely aware that she wasn't safe, but was in no position to do anything about that for now. If nothing else, she was safer than the late Darren Cooper. That was something, anyway.