A Matter of Time

[DetectiveArcher*]

((Boy #98: Start))

It was times like this, times of stress and fear, that it hurt. A burning ache that spread across the entirety of his right hand. Clenching and unclenching his hand, Morgan Green tried to convince himself what he was feeling wasn't real. Nothing but an illusion, a trick of the mind. Logically, there was nothing to cause the sensation in his scarred extremity. In fact the seared nerve endings should have ensured that he would never feel anything from it ever again. But, despite the biological truth, he could still feel it. He could feel the burning.

Trudging along, the boy did his best to ignore the sensation as the jungle around him slowly gave way to the clear cut workspace surrounding the quarry. The rain was letting up as the horizon faded into a slightly lighter shade of grey. More light meant there was a greater chance of being seen in the wilderness, and the quarry was an area that was entirely too open to be safe.

But, perhaps there was something useful to be found there. The straight razor he'd been assigned was good for the time being, but it would be worthless in a fight against someone with a real weapon. The quarry, being host to many high powered machines at one point, might have something he could use an improvised weapon or useful tool. It would be stupid to pass up an opportunity to gain an edge in the game. Waste not, want not.

If someone happened to be in the area, there was at least a decent chance they wouldn't attack without good reason. The hard line players definitely would, but from the sound of the announcements there were only a few real contenders. As long as Morgan didn't happen upon Bobby Jacks or Blood Boy, he wouldn't be in any immediate danger. It was a slightly more optimistic view of the situation than was practical, but the scarred intellectual had been a bit of an optimist since his accident.

Making his way down the winding trail into the stony gorge, Morgan noticed the large niches in the rocky walls, no doubt formed by dynamite blasts. His feet feeling heavy from several days of walking and his stomach grumbling from subpar nutrition, Morgan decided to stop and rest in one of the alcoves. Sitting down and setting his day pack beside him, the boy quickly rifled through the bag, producing an already half-eaten loaf of bread. The crackers were gone and the last of his bread was starting to dwindle. Not good. At this rate I'll have to look for alternative food sources. The boy tore off a small chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth.

Resting his feet and filling his stomach, the boy pondered on what to do about his slowly growing food dilemma. There were probably animals he could hunt, but with only a straight razor, his probability of successfully capturing anything was next to zero. Taking a careful swig from one of his two remaining bottles of water, Morgan made a mental note to stop at the brook soon. There might be some indigenous fruits or berries somewhere in the dense foliage, but eating the wrong thing could kill you just as easily as Bobby Jacks could.

Shrugging, the boy decided to think about the problem later. After all, if push came to shove it would be frighteningly easy to secure a food source. There were plenty of bodies around the island, some fresher than others, but that would require only a little searching. Morgan brushed the thought aside. The human body wasn't very nutritious. A waste of energy. So then, where to find better food?

Putting the thought out of his mind for later, Morgan sat finished his meager meal. No reason to be in a hurry. Food could wait a while yet, and the longer he waited out the game, the less competition there would be. Of course, that also meant his enemies could stockpile better weapons. So, it came down to moving at the right time. For now, however, the boy was content to bide his time. It wouldn't do to waste energy on attacking someone with a weapon as pathetic as a razorblade. Unless they were sleeping…

No, he would need something different. But, that too could wait a moment. Morgan was conserving his energy. Waiting to catch someone tired and off guard. That would be best. The rain had begun to let up. He'd outlasted most of the storm; he could out last a few high school students.

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The rain continued its steady misting. No one had come in the time he'd rested. Long since finished with his meager meal, Morgan set about searching the area for anything useful. Carefully sweeping across the quarry, the level headed boy failed to find anything that wasn't either completely worthless or worn and rusted beyond use. Normally able to take such setbacks in stride, Morgan's stay on the island had worn his patience very thin.

Kicking at a fist sized rock, he gave a sharp yell in frustration. "Of course. Nothing here's any good. Damn it!" Breathing hard from his outburst, the short boy clenched his fists. "Ok, Morgan, calm down. Losing control of the situation isn't going to help anything. First things first: there's nothing here for me, so it's time to go."

Shouldering his day pack, the annoyed boy made his way out of the quarry.

((Morgan continued Elsewhere.))