29 students remaining

5

"Girl No. 7, Shelby."
Taylor watched as yet another girl ran out the door. When would it be his turn to be called?
"Boy No. 8, Joe."
Joe walked up to the front and grabbed a bag. He walked out the room with stiff legs. Taylor's stomach rumbled. He was hungry - and what time was it - 1 AM?

"Girl No.8, Lexie"

Lexie ran up to the front of the room and grabbed her bag, looked suspiciously at the remaining students, and then vomited on the floor. She was obviously embarrassed, and smiled, shaking, at her fellow students before breaking out into a run down the hallway.

"Boy No. 9, Chris"

When Chris grabbed his bag, Ms. Prok said, "Don't fart out there. Some people might just want to kill you for it."
Chris just ran off.
Girl No. 9, Amanda, Boy No. 10, Ferris, and Girl No. 10 Gabby, all left in a steady stream.

"Boy number 11 was Steven, but I don't think he'll be needing a day pack." Sammy Dwyer said and giggled in her annoying voice.

Then Girl No. 11 was called.
"Girl No. 11, Angie."
Angie casually walked to the front of the room and literally ripped a bag from the rack. Then she turned to Mr. Prok.
"You better watch your back, Ms. Prok. I'm coming for you."
Ms. Prok simply laughed, "You? Come for me? This will be a danger zone twenty minutes after the last person leaves. There are soldiers all over the place - and in this room too."
"Yeah," said Angie, "But what if I was to walk into that hallway, open my pack, find a gun and then walk in here and shoot you? The government wouldn't care. To them you're just as dispensable as we are." Ms. Prok's face tightened up. She said slowly, "Get out of this room now, or I'll blow your head off."
"Not got a better response?" Angie laughed.
"Get out!" roared Ms. Prok, grabbing the remote as a makeshift threat. Angie just shrugged and walked out the door.
"Boy No. 12, John."
John ran up and grabbed a bag. He threw it at Ms. Prok and ran out the door. "That was… unexpected," she said, rolling her eyes.
Without notice he stormed back in and grabbed another daypack off the rack, looking rather embarrassed.
"I'll, uh, just take this one," he stuttered before turning and running out of the door again.
"Girl No. 12, Brittany."

Taylor heard Brittany mutter 'for you Joe, my greatest love' before grabbing her bag and exiting through the small doorway. She didn't mean the Joe in the class, but the Joe she obsessively fawned over who was a Disney Channel Star all over Hollywood. He found it a bit weird that she was in love with a famous person.

As she walked out of the door, he knew he must be one of the few last people to leave. There were only a few people left standing in the room, six to be exact, and he was either Boy 13, 14, or 15.
"Boy No. 13, Connor M," said Sammy Dwyer.

Connor walked up and grabbed a bag. He gave a spiteful look at Ms. Prok before leaving.
"Girl No. 13, Chelsea."
Chelsea walked up and grabbed her bag - the once large pile of daypacks had been diminished to just a few left. Taylor knew then that if he wasn't Boy No. 14, he'd be the last or second to last person to leave the room. Possibly the last to get a daypack, and he hoped the last to die, even if it meant killing others. That's right - Taylor knew then he'd play the game to win. He had to kill… he had to see his parents. He was smart, he'd go to a good college, have ten kids with the most beautiful woman ever…
Eric (Boy No. 14) and Aly (girl No. 14) were called up, but Taylor didn't notice as he was consumed by evil thoughts. He was going through only the first stage of spiraling into the darkness of 'the game.' It was part of the government's trap, first scaring you, then herding you before finally turning you insane and forcing you to play the game.
'They'll kill me all,' thought Taylor. 'If I don't kill them first, they'll come for me. I just know it, for sure. I just know it. There's no doubt, they'll all go for me, all! Everyone one of them, every single one!'
"Boy No. 15, Taylor ."
Taylor looked around to see he was the only one left in the room. He must have completely missed the leaving of Girl No. 15, which he presumed was Caroline. Running up he grabbed a bag and ran into the hall. He could see a door. He ran up to it and grabbed the brass doorknob. Opening it he breathed his first fresh air in hours.
He was standing on a rural street. It was lined with shops with large glass display cases. The stores ranged in color from pink to yellow to light blue. Lamps shone bright light, which small flies buzzed around, illuminating the black sky.
"Go to hell."
Taylor didn't hear the whooshing sound, but felt the blow against his head. He fell forward onto his front with a loud grunt. His day pack flew from his hand and landed only a few feet away. He coughed and blood came pouring from his mouth, making a frothy pile on the pavement in front of him.
Turning around he saw Alejandro standing tall and holding a cricket bat.
"Hello," said Alejandro. Taylor stared in horror at him. Alejandro was out to kill him! No, everyone! He could see their faces now, all closing in on him and beating his brains out. That's right… he had to kill… his daypack! Taylor reached for his daypack and ripped it open. But a blow against his elbow stopped him short. Pain seared up his arm as he looked to see his elbow bending in the completely wrong direction. Warm liquid matted his hair from the blow to his head, and he felt like he was losing blood at a fast rate. White bone that shone in the light of the lamp was protruding from his skin.
"I got this cricket bat," said Alejandro. "At first I thought it was a piece of crap, but it looks like it's done me some good."
Taylor felt another blow to his head and found himself facing up. The sky was pitch black… or maybe he had his eyes closed. Then Alejandro filled his vision - he knew it wasn't his eyelids.
'Is this a dream?' he thought. 'Am I going to wake up all of a sudden and find out everything's okay?'
His head was lying in a warm liquid. He knew what it was, but was more preoccupied with the psycho with the cricket bat over his head.
Alejandro raised the blunt weapon above his head; poised to smash in Taylor's face.
"No," choked Taylor.
"What was that?" asked Alejandro.
"No…"
"Sorry, I don't speak idiot."
Taylor had always wished that his last thoughts would be of his family - maybe a favorite memory of them. It could have been Christmas when he opened his presents and found a PS2 inside. It could have been when he had his first kiss in a school dance during 7th grade. There were other things, spending time with his pets - anything.
But none of these things were his last thoughts. He watched as Alejandro brought the cricket bat down. He heard it smash his face, but that was his last he heard. The last feeling he felt was incredible pain and his eyes went black.
But his last thought, of all the things he could have been thinking of at the time, was 'oops.'