((Maynard Hurst continued from What Comes After))
The school buildings were the epitome of nostalgia.
It was the sort of thing he would've written about in the sonnets he'd once spent hours constructing, describing the way the sun caught the yellowed hues of the athletic field or how one of the trees that dotted the area unfurled its branches into the almost-picturesque clear sky. But as he'd arrived in the area and gazed upon the sight before him, Maynard didn't acknowledge any of that, nor did he feel the flurry of emotions that usually accompanied it. Just numbness.
He'd left the park in an almost trance-like state, barely acknowledging his surroundings nor the fatigue the journey to the school grounds had brought upon him. His naginata had dragged behind him in the dirt, kicking up debris and pebbles in its wake, while his gun hung limply in his free hand, fingers locked loosely around its trigger. The thought of using either of them had never entered his head, but their mere presence was enough, enough to tie him to this game, enough to trap him without any chance of escape.
It was suffocating.
He felt hollow, empty, knowing that whatever direction he took didn't matter because his eventual destination wouldn't bring him what he was looking for - whatever what he was looking for' was. He didn't know anymore, and the truth was he hadn't really known for a long time. Ever since he'd lost Daniel, ever since he'd lost Natali, ever since he'd lost Gwen, ever since he'd lost Adam, his purpose had been in a state of continuous flux, fluctuating as each and every person he cared about left him. And with James gone, he didn't really have any purpose left, did he?
His bags slid from his arms and Maynard followed suit, ungracefully dropping to the ground as his fingers relinquished their grip upon his weapons, letting them nestle in the decaying grass of the school's athletic field.
Then he began to sob once again.
A Manic Depressive Named Laughing Boy
((Juhan Levandi continues from Glass))
Juhan got up from the ground after an hours-long sleep. He stumbled more than walked, heading towards the nearest building, blood seeping from his lips and from the gash on his knee. He'd managed to knock himself out while sprinting from the park, tripping on some rock. He'd woken up after that, but found that the ground was as good a place as any to sleep. It was night anyways, and the paranoia he faced during the day was enough without the worry of someone leaping from the shadows.
He rubbed his sooty cheek and found blood. Funny how that worked. The person who'd hurt Juhan the most was he himself. Ian had given him a few bruises from tackling him, yes, but that was it. Juhan, on the other hand, had given himself a gash on his knee, bruises on the back of his head, a flu, and now this. Survival of the Fittest wasn't doing its job quite right.
The thought of Ian pushed him forward. It really hurt thinking about it. A sheep in wolf's skin. And the ruse had continued for so long, too. Two days, was it? And he still had the audacity to try and keep him? After killing someone in front of him? Juhan had trusted too much. He'd trusted in the fact that none of his friends would actually kill, he'd trusted in Gavin, he'd trusted in the escape, and he'd trusted in the belief that Bella would come back. And it'd all been shattered, one by one. Idiot.
As the minutes stretched on, he slowly recognized the building in front of him. It was the school, the place where it had all started to go down.
To be honest, there were many places where it had all started to go down. Of course, you could start at the airport, when he'd gone on the plane. Or at the haunted house, where he woke up. But nothing happened at that point. He met up with Francis and Takeshi, then ran away from the amusement park after this gunfight. You could go all the way forward to the beach, where he finally realized that there'd be no escape. Or just recently, at the park. But that would be ignoring many other events. No, it all went down a few hundred meters away, at the high school. Juhan's first actual encounter with death. A few shouts, a few tumbles, and then silence.
Francis should still be there, right? Arms crossed, eyes closed. No bags on him, and maybe with a few flies trying to swarm him.
He didn't want to go back to there, not after that. He opted for the athletic field instead. No memories there.
There was... something there. He couldn't tell for a while whether it was alive or dead, and it took Juhan longer than he'd like to admit to realize it was a person. He was rather on edge at the moment. This was exacerbated by the fact that, aside from the pipe bomb, which he couldn't light, he had no weapon or no company to speak of. Another betrayal. Takeshi, the band kid who'd stuck along with him for eight days, had just left him without even bothering to give a simple warning, or even just wake him up.
He finally recognized the person sobbing on the ground as Maynard. One of his closest friends, the person he'd been hoping to find the most before. But now, after everything, he didn't feel elation or joy, or even the tiniest bit of relief, or pity. In another time, he would've run towards him, tried consoling him. In another time, he would've asked Maynard what happened, and they'd take on their burdens together, until either one of them died. But everyone he'd trusted had either died or left him. Even Ian, even Takeshi. He couldn't trust anymore or find the good left in Maynard. He didn't feel any sympathy, or any need to console. The only thing he felt was an urge to get an explanation. Ian wouldn't give him one, but maybe Maynard would. So, he stood over the boy and asked him one question.
"Why'd you do it?"
Juhan got up from the ground after an hours-long sleep. He stumbled more than walked, heading towards the nearest building, blood seeping from his lips and from the gash on his knee. He'd managed to knock himself out while sprinting from the park, tripping on some rock. He'd woken up after that, but found that the ground was as good a place as any to sleep. It was night anyways, and the paranoia he faced during the day was enough without the worry of someone leaping from the shadows.
He rubbed his sooty cheek and found blood. Funny how that worked. The person who'd hurt Juhan the most was he himself. Ian had given him a few bruises from tackling him, yes, but that was it. Juhan, on the other hand, had given himself a gash on his knee, bruises on the back of his head, a flu, and now this. Survival of the Fittest wasn't doing its job quite right.
The thought of Ian pushed him forward. It really hurt thinking about it. A sheep in wolf's skin. And the ruse had continued for so long, too. Two days, was it? And he still had the audacity to try and keep him? After killing someone in front of him? Juhan had trusted too much. He'd trusted in the fact that none of his friends would actually kill, he'd trusted in Gavin, he'd trusted in the escape, and he'd trusted in the belief that Bella would come back. And it'd all been shattered, one by one. Idiot.
As the minutes stretched on, he slowly recognized the building in front of him. It was the school, the place where it had all started to go down.
To be honest, there were many places where it had all started to go down. Of course, you could start at the airport, when he'd gone on the plane. Or at the haunted house, where he woke up. But nothing happened at that point. He met up with Francis and Takeshi, then ran away from the amusement park after this gunfight. You could go all the way forward to the beach, where he finally realized that there'd be no escape. Or just recently, at the park. But that would be ignoring many other events. No, it all went down a few hundred meters away, at the high school. Juhan's first actual encounter with death. A few shouts, a few tumbles, and then silence.
Francis should still be there, right? Arms crossed, eyes closed. No bags on him, and maybe with a few flies trying to swarm him.
He didn't want to go back to there, not after that. He opted for the athletic field instead. No memories there.
There was... something there. He couldn't tell for a while whether it was alive or dead, and it took Juhan longer than he'd like to admit to realize it was a person. He was rather on edge at the moment. This was exacerbated by the fact that, aside from the pipe bomb, which he couldn't light, he had no weapon or no company to speak of. Another betrayal. Takeshi, the band kid who'd stuck along with him for eight days, had just left him without even bothering to give a simple warning, or even just wake him up.
He finally recognized the person sobbing on the ground as Maynard. One of his closest friends, the person he'd been hoping to find the most before. But now, after everything, he didn't feel elation or joy, or even the tiniest bit of relief, or pity. In another time, he would've run towards him, tried consoling him. In another time, he would've asked Maynard what happened, and they'd take on their burdens together, until either one of them died. But everyone he'd trusted had either died or left him. Even Ian, even Takeshi. He couldn't trust anymore or find the good left in Maynard. He didn't feel any sympathy, or any need to console. The only thing he felt was an urge to get an explanation. Ian wouldn't give him one, but maybe Maynard would. So, he stood over the boy and asked him one question.
"Why'd you do it?"
Maynard's shallow breathing was the only sound amidst the silence of the field, interspersed with rough coughs that wracked his body. Droplets of salvia escaped his mouth with each gasp for air, pooling between his shaking hands as they struggled to keep him from completely collapsing on the ground altogether. He was trapped and forever would be. Alone. Just him.
At least, he was until the silence was pierced by a familiar voice, and Maynard's heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach.
Juhan Levandi, one of the few remaining people on the island he'd hoped never to meet. He knew what few friends he had left wouldn't want anything to do with him after what'd happened with Adam - not that he could blame them, but being faced directly with that scenario was even worse. And sure enough, the first words out of Juhan's mouth weren't words of surprise or jubilation at being reunited, but accusation. Just as he'd expected, and just as he deserved.
He met Juhan's eyes through his own blurry vision, strands of hair hanging limply across his face.
"I didn't mean it."
He couldn't lie, couldn't drudge up some claim of self-defence or that it was a mercy. There wasn't anything he could do to suddenly sway people onto his side, so the least he could do was be truthful, right?
"I killed him, and it was no accident, but I didn't mean it," he continued, voice quiet and eyes widened as tears continued their trail down his face. "And now everybody's gone. They're all gone, Juhan. Every single one."
At least, he was until the silence was pierced by a familiar voice, and Maynard's heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach.
Juhan Levandi, one of the few remaining people on the island he'd hoped never to meet. He knew what few friends he had left wouldn't want anything to do with him after what'd happened with Adam - not that he could blame them, but being faced directly with that scenario was even worse. And sure enough, the first words out of Juhan's mouth weren't words of surprise or jubilation at being reunited, but accusation. Just as he'd expected, and just as he deserved.
He met Juhan's eyes through his own blurry vision, strands of hair hanging limply across his face.
"I didn't mean it."
He couldn't lie, couldn't drudge up some claim of self-defence or that it was a mercy. There wasn't anything he could do to suddenly sway people onto his side, so the least he could do was be truthful, right?
"I killed him, and it was no accident, but I didn't mean it," he continued, voice quiet and eyes widened as tears continued their trail down his face. "And now everybody's gone. They're all gone, Juhan. Every single one."
"No kidding."
Aside from Bella, there weren't many people left in his old group of friends. Michael Mitchellson was, as far as Juhan knew, the only person from the book club who'd never turned up on the announcements. There were other faces and names he'd seen at the newspaper or the debate club that might still be around, but they weren't close. Out of all the names he talked with, enjoyed seeing everyday, Hansel, Daniel, Ian, Megan, Naomi, Garrett, Carlon, Gabriela, Rosemary, out of all of them, only one hadn't given in or lost. All the others had either killed, like Maynard right here, or been killed.
The thought was enough to stop Juhan in his tracks for a few seconds. At least, until his mind went back to Maynard's answer.
Laughter, again. Didn't mean it? That answer was reserved for stuff like accidentally raising your tone at one of your friends. Saying some offhand remark that accidentally came across as insulting. That was what the phrase 'didn't mean it' was reserved for. Not stabbing someone. Before, he could've accepted it and forgiven him or whatever, but he'd made that mistake once and almost paid for it. No, don't accept that answer.
"Didn't mean it, huh? What's that supposed to mean? I, I, no, Maynard, no. Just... the announcements. They're typically really brief with their descriptions, yet they said more. You flipped your lid, they said. What happened? At least, give me one reason. Doesn't even have to be a good reason, just something that makes sense."
Aside from Bella, there weren't many people left in his old group of friends. Michael Mitchellson was, as far as Juhan knew, the only person from the book club who'd never turned up on the announcements. There were other faces and names he'd seen at the newspaper or the debate club that might still be around, but they weren't close. Out of all the names he talked with, enjoyed seeing everyday, Hansel, Daniel, Ian, Megan, Naomi, Garrett, Carlon, Gabriela, Rosemary, out of all of them, only one hadn't given in or lost. All the others had either killed, like Maynard right here, or been killed.
The thought was enough to stop Juhan in his tracks for a few seconds. At least, until his mind went back to Maynard's answer.
Laughter, again. Didn't mean it? That answer was reserved for stuff like accidentally raising your tone at one of your friends. Saying some offhand remark that accidentally came across as insulting. That was what the phrase 'didn't mean it' was reserved for. Not stabbing someone. Before, he could've accepted it and forgiven him or whatever, but he'd made that mistake once and almost paid for it. No, don't accept that answer.
"Didn't mean it, huh? What's that supposed to mean? I, I, no, Maynard, no. Just... the announcements. They're typically really brief with their descriptions, yet they said more. You flipped your lid, they said. What happened? At least, give me one reason. Doesn't even have to be a good reason, just something that makes sense."
Maynard's eyes widened further as Juhan spoke, acid lacing each of his words and each burst of laughter that passed through his lips. This was exactly what he'd expected, exactly what he deserved. The hatred, the judgement. He'd been steeling himself against it ever since it had happened, ever since he'd let his own grief take away everything that mattered, but to have it finally happen, with one of his friends, a friend he'd once worked with in class and gossiped about over literature with, a friend he felt he could tell anything to... that was something else. It only added to the burning tears on his cheeks and the emptiness of his stomach, only made him feel more and more like there was nothing left for him. Not anymore.
It took what seemed like forever, but he finally found his voice once more, albeit soft and shaking with each word he spoke.
"We were together, Adam and I, ever since we met up the first day. He protected me, stayed with me throughout everything, even as we lost everybody. Daniel and Natali and Michelle and then Gwen. I tried keeping it together, for him, but when that man said Gwen's name, told me the most important person on this island was gone, I just... I..."
He broke off, chest rising and falling unevenly as sobs overwhelmed his words. He couldn't keep talking, couldn't do it anymore. Everything hurt so much, and he just wanted it to stop. A shaking breath vacated his lungs and he rose his eyes back upwards to meet Juhan, his face marred with tears and the look of sheer desperation etched into his features.
"I'm so sorry."
Sorry. Always so sorry.
It took what seemed like forever, but he finally found his voice once more, albeit soft and shaking with each word he spoke.
"We were together, Adam and I, ever since we met up the first day. He protected me, stayed with me throughout everything, even as we lost everybody. Daniel and Natali and Michelle and then Gwen. I tried keeping it together, for him, but when that man said Gwen's name, told me the most important person on this island was gone, I just... I..."
He broke off, chest rising and falling unevenly as sobs overwhelmed his words. He couldn't keep talking, couldn't do it anymore. Everything hurt so much, and he just wanted it to stop. A shaking breath vacated his lungs and he rose his eyes back upwards to meet Juhan, his face marred with tears and the look of sheer desperation etched into his features.
"I'm so sorry."
Sorry. Always so sorry.
Juhan could have stopped. He should have, really. Between the tears and the sobs and the unsteady breaths, there wasn't much evidence to suggest that Maynard was a cold-blooded killer. But he couldn't. As it turned out, no, just making sense wasn't enough for Juhan. He needed a better reason, a really, really good one, as it turned out, for why Maynard became one of them. For why he joined the list of Hansel's and Theodore's and Katarina's.
"No. You never finished your sentence. You what? You, you, you got ang- you took out your anger on Adam? That it? No, fuck, Maynard, no!"
Only after Juhan's throat started burning did he realize that he'd shouted, and that tears were falling. He didn't care. The only thing he wanted was an explanation, one for Maynard, for Ian, for everything, so that he could rationalize this and move on with his final days. He looked at Maynard and saw bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks. This wasn't the typical image of a killer. He imagined bloodstained cheeks and wild eyes. A psychopath in his best friend's skin. Like Ian. This wasn't it. What was in front of him was a paradox, one he couldn't wrap his mind around. The same old Maynard, the same old looks, but with a prize next to him on the ground. That made it hurt all the more for Juhan.
"You weren't supposed to be one of them," he said.
"No. You never finished your sentence. You what? You, you, you got ang- you took out your anger on Adam? That it? No, fuck, Maynard, no!"
Only after Juhan's throat started burning did he realize that he'd shouted, and that tears were falling. He didn't care. The only thing he wanted was an explanation, one for Maynard, for Ian, for everything, so that he could rationalize this and move on with his final days. He looked at Maynard and saw bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks. This wasn't the typical image of a killer. He imagined bloodstained cheeks and wild eyes. A psychopath in his best friend's skin. Like Ian. This wasn't it. What was in front of him was a paradox, one he couldn't wrap his mind around. The same old Maynard, the same old looks, but with a prize next to him on the ground. That made it hurt all the more for Juhan.
"You weren't supposed to be one of them," he said.
Maynard shrunk backwards as Juhan continued to yell, eyes wide and bleary as the boy across from him did everything he expected he would. Back at Aurora, Juhan had been one of the kindest souls he'd known - almost as much as Gwen - the sort of boy who'd never yell at anyone, no matter what they'd done. But here he was, shattering those illusions with every word he spoke. Maynard knew he deserved it, knew that everything Juhan said was true, but the knowledge that he'd driven his friend to such a point, had turned his friend into something so dissimilar to the kindhearted bookworm he'd been back in Seattle... it made him sick to his stomach, made him want to collapse in tears once more - though he suspected he couldn't manage many more after the sobs that'd engulfed him already.
A melting pot of emotions stirred within him, sadness, regret, fear; it was like the floodgates had been opened and everything was pouring out. He felt like the word was crumbling around him once more, like it had before, time and time again. He couldn't keep dealing with it. He just wasn't strong enough.
"It was anger, but only for losing Gwen. I never wanted to hurt Adam, I... I never meant it. He was a good person, and I never meant it. Please forgive, me, please," he begged, not for himself, but for Juhan. He was too far gone, he knew that, knew there was no chance of redemption for himself, but he couldn't let his friend go down the same path. He couldn't let Juhan become like him.
"I'm not one of them, Juhan. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not."
It was all he could do, just repeat the lie over and over again, and then maybe he could convince Juhan it was true.
A melting pot of emotions stirred within him, sadness, regret, fear; it was like the floodgates had been opened and everything was pouring out. He felt like the word was crumbling around him once more, like it had before, time and time again. He couldn't keep dealing with it. He just wasn't strong enough.
"It was anger, but only for losing Gwen. I never wanted to hurt Adam, I... I never meant it. He was a good person, and I never meant it. Please forgive, me, please," he begged, not for himself, but for Juhan. He was too far gone, he knew that, knew there was no chance of redemption for himself, but he couldn't let his friend go down the same path. He couldn't let Juhan become like him.
"I'm not one of them, Juhan. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not."
It was all he could do, just repeat the lie over and over again, and then maybe he could convince Juhan it was true.
The words were all empty to Juhan, simply meant to appease. No matter how much Maynard babbled on, with his sorry's and denials, it still wasn't what Juhan wanted. It was contradicting, it didn't make sense, it didn't answer the question. He never asked who Adam was like, or for an apology. All he wanted to know was why.
He clenched his teeth as Maynard repeated himself, before stamping on the ground.
"Shut up. Just shut up."
A moment or two of pause. He needed some time to make his thoughts coherent, jumbled and chaotic as they were right now. Nothing was helping now. His throbbing veins, along with the rage and frustration, made his thoughts cloudy. But after what seemed like forever, he spoke.
"Just tell me, how? Please, please, please, tell me how you aren't one of them. You know Ian, right? He'd told me about Paulo's death beforehand, but not how it happened. He said he 'fell off'. So, even after the announcements told a different story, I stayed with him. For two days, I followed him, believed his word. But then I went to sleep and woke up to him stabbing Paulo's sister. Over and over and over again, even though she was already dead. That was Ian, a mutual friend of ours. He did that."
His voice cracked as he finished this statement. It'd only been a week, and all of his friends had been transformed so drastically. And he didn't know why, because no one would say why. He looked again at Maynard.
"So, tell me, please, what make you so different?"
He clenched his teeth as Maynard repeated himself, before stamping on the ground.
"Shut up. Just shut up."
A moment or two of pause. He needed some time to make his thoughts coherent, jumbled and chaotic as they were right now. Nothing was helping now. His throbbing veins, along with the rage and frustration, made his thoughts cloudy. But after what seemed like forever, he spoke.
"Just tell me, how? Please, please, please, tell me how you aren't one of them. You know Ian, right? He'd told me about Paulo's death beforehand, but not how it happened. He said he 'fell off'. So, even after the announcements told a different story, I stayed with him. For two days, I followed him, believed his word. But then I went to sleep and woke up to him stabbing Paulo's sister. Over and over and over again, even though she was already dead. That was Ian, a mutual friend of ours. He did that."
His voice cracked as he finished this statement. It'd only been a week, and all of his friends had been transformed so drastically. And he didn't know why, because no one would say why. He looked again at Maynard.
"So, tell me, please, what make you so different?"
Nothing.
Maynard had nothing, no more justifications, no more ways of rationalising what'd happened, no more ways of trying to convince Juhan that not everybody left on the island had succumbed to its hellish nature. He'd never been the best at improvising, and that fact was cemented now more than it could ever be - when he needed to think on his feet the most, needed to save what remained of his friend, he was completely lost for words.
His mouth contorted desperately as he wracked his brain with mounting panic, searching for any words that might come forth, any words that might give Juhan some trace of hope. But there was nothing, and there never would be anything, because it wasn't true, not one ounce of it. There was no escape, no chance of leaving this place unblemished by it, and despite Maynard's best efforts he'd failed once more. He hadn't achieved anything, had only experienced and then brought heartbreak down on those around him.
What was his point anymore?
Even that was something he couldn't answer, so he remained on his knees, staring up at Juhan, lips quivering and cheeks stained with tears.
Maynard had nothing, no more justifications, no more ways of rationalising what'd happened, no more ways of trying to convince Juhan that not everybody left on the island had succumbed to its hellish nature. He'd never been the best at improvising, and that fact was cemented now more than it could ever be - when he needed to think on his feet the most, needed to save what remained of his friend, he was completely lost for words.
His mouth contorted desperately as he wracked his brain with mounting panic, searching for any words that might come forth, any words that might give Juhan some trace of hope. But there was nothing, and there never would be anything, because it wasn't true, not one ounce of it. There was no escape, no chance of leaving this place unblemished by it, and despite Maynard's best efforts he'd failed once more. He hadn't achieved anything, had only experienced and then brought heartbreak down on those around him.
What was his point anymore?
Even that was something he couldn't answer, so he remained on his knees, staring up at Juhan, lips quivering and cheeks stained with tears.
(Ami Flynn continued from The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. One.)
Ami stopped dead.
Her bag fell off her shoulders the second she did. The gun she had been assigned was tucked in there, big enough to take up most of the room but small enough to be concealed. It made an indentation in the wet ground beneath her feet.
Ami stood there at the lip of the field, near the chained-link enclosure.
In one hand was Katarina's machine gun. She spent a hour testing it at the park. Central Park, 8, was a bust. There was barely anything there. Picnic tables, duck boats, completely exposed to the elements. Ami arrived at a time where there was no one there. She checked every nook and cranny. Then she crossed it off of the map, because, really, there was no way they would chose a forest to corral ten survivors.
It took her a moment to even think about combing the black, frizzed hair out of her face.
In the other was the map. She scribbled more notes on it, mostly about the schoolyard. She spent quite a lot of time looking from building to building. People were in there. Couldn't be too careful. She didn't hear any gunshots and no one saw her so Ami figured she was successful.
Her eyes went wide. She pursed her chapped lips. "... No.."
Clutched between the map and her dirty fingers was page from her notebook. She copied select passages from Mr. Danya's Guide to Survival on that one. Most of it was completely useless fluff, written as though Mr. Danya were having an one-sided chat with her.
She stared for a moment, slapping her cheeking.
The first time she read it, Ami couldn't stop shaking her head. 'No one talks like this', she thought. 'All of this sounds like a James Bond villain.' Terrible. A fifth-grader could do better.
Ami smiled. She stared laughing under her breath, despite the tears streaming down her cheeks.
The second time she read it, Ami figured some of it was useful. She transcribed it on a page and shoved it into her pocket, so she could look at it and remind herself what she was fighting for.
Ami shoved the map and the page into her pocket. Then she started walking. The limp in her leg had lessened, which was good, because she broke out into a sprint the second she crossed the track. Her grip on her gun loosened. It fell from her hand and clattered against the ground. Ami didn't even bother to look back. She just ran, making a beeline for Maynard, Maynard, Maynard.
Ami stopped dead.
Her bag fell off her shoulders the second she did. The gun she had been assigned was tucked in there, big enough to take up most of the room but small enough to be concealed. It made an indentation in the wet ground beneath her feet.
Ami stood there at the lip of the field, near the chained-link enclosure.
In one hand was Katarina's machine gun. She spent a hour testing it at the park. Central Park, 8, was a bust. There was barely anything there. Picnic tables, duck boats, completely exposed to the elements. Ami arrived at a time where there was no one there. She checked every nook and cranny. Then she crossed it off of the map, because, really, there was no way they would chose a forest to corral ten survivors.
It took her a moment to even think about combing the black, frizzed hair out of her face.
In the other was the map. She scribbled more notes on it, mostly about the schoolyard. She spent quite a lot of time looking from building to building. People were in there. Couldn't be too careful. She didn't hear any gunshots and no one saw her so Ami figured she was successful.
Her eyes went wide. She pursed her chapped lips. "... No.."
Clutched between the map and her dirty fingers was page from her notebook. She copied select passages from Mr. Danya's Guide to Survival on that one. Most of it was completely useless fluff, written as though Mr. Danya were having an one-sided chat with her.
She stared for a moment, slapping her cheeking.
The first time she read it, Ami couldn't stop shaking her head. 'No one talks like this', she thought. 'All of this sounds like a James Bond villain.' Terrible. A fifth-grader could do better.
Ami smiled. She stared laughing under her breath, despite the tears streaming down her cheeks.
The second time she read it, Ami figured some of it was useful. She transcribed it on a page and shoved it into her pocket, so she could look at it and remind herself what she was fighting for.
Ami shoved the map and the page into her pocket. Then she started walking. The limp in her leg had lessened, which was good, because she broke out into a sprint the second she crossed the track. Her grip on her gun loosened. It fell from her hand and clattered against the ground. Ami didn't even bother to look back. She just ran, making a beeline for Maynard, Maynard, Maynard.
Not even one word? That was it? Maynard really was one of them? There was nothing that made him an exception, like Rosemary? He was another Hansel, another Travis?
It was one thing to know it was true, but it was another thing for Maynard to essentially confirm it. To confirm that, yes, one of his few remaining friends was truly, truly a killer, he really was gone. He was the final nail in the coffin for him. Juhan tried calming himself by breathing in and out, but this only held back everything, the rage and the frustration and the confusion for a few seconds before he did something else.
He slapped Maynard across the cheek.
"Say something!"
His head was throbbing, his throat was burning, and his wounds were stinging, but none of that stopped Juhan, because he had a lot, too much to say.
"You, you can't just tell me that you got angry and killed Adam, because you, no, none of us were like this a week ago! When we got angry, we choked it up and then went on with our lives. We didn't impale or strangle anyone. That's not what a normal kid does. Now that I think about it, all our collars should've blown up the first day because we didn't give the terrorists enough of a show. But what happened? Hansel killed Daniel and Theo killed Gabriela. And I want to know why this happened, why we've just become animals and, and- but you won't tell me anything!"
Juhan trailed off as his body shook with sobs. Nothing was left anymore. Maynard confirmed it. After a few long, long seconds, Juhan choked out a few last words.
"Come on. Just give me one good reason..."
It was one thing to know it was true, but it was another thing for Maynard to essentially confirm it. To confirm that, yes, one of his few remaining friends was truly, truly a killer, he really was gone. He was the final nail in the coffin for him. Juhan tried calming himself by breathing in and out, but this only held back everything, the rage and the frustration and the confusion for a few seconds before he did something else.
He slapped Maynard across the cheek.
"Say something!"
His head was throbbing, his throat was burning, and his wounds were stinging, but none of that stopped Juhan, because he had a lot, too much to say.
"You, you can't just tell me that you got angry and killed Adam, because you, no, none of us were like this a week ago! When we got angry, we choked it up and then went on with our lives. We didn't impale or strangle anyone. That's not what a normal kid does. Now that I think about it, all our collars should've blown up the first day because we didn't give the terrorists enough of a show. But what happened? Hansel killed Daniel and Theo killed Gabriela. And I want to know why this happened, why we've just become animals and, and- but you won't tell me anything!"
Juhan trailed off as his body shook with sobs. Nothing was left anymore. Maynard confirmed it. After a few long, long seconds, Juhan choked out a few last words.
"Come on. Just give me one good reason..."
Maynard screamed as Juhan smashed him across the face, voice cracking in agony as his cheek flared with pain and flushed deep crimson. Tears continued down his face once more as Juhan continued to rant, each word cutting deeper and deeper until yet another pained scream was forced from his lips.
Day after day of losing friends again and again and again had driven him to it, had propelled him to make the biggest mistake he'd ever done, but what of Juhan? Hadn't Juhan been in the exact same position as him, experienced just as much heartbreak and pain? And yet his name was unblemished, with nobody's death on his hands. That fact, the fact that two people could endure the same set of events but unfurl into different people was enough to sever the one lingering justification Maynard had left.
But Juhan demanded answers, and so as much as he didn't wish to give one, as much as he wished he could convince Juhan that there was a semblance of good left on this island, he let the words flow from his mouth in a panicked yelp, teeth bared and face scrunched as sobs enveloped him once again.
"I. Don't. Have. One!"
He collapsed onto the grass, droplets of saliva dancing from his mouth with the ragged pants that coursed through his chest as he struggled to breathe properly. But before he could say or do anything else, could allow himself to be subjected to Juhans judgement anymore, the sound of approaching footfalls reached his ears accompanied by the knowledge that further judgement would soon be on its way. He spun around to identify their owner, several saturated strands of hair sticking to his face in the process and his voice rattling as a single word escaped his lips.
"Ami?"
Day after day of losing friends again and again and again had driven him to it, had propelled him to make the biggest mistake he'd ever done, but what of Juhan? Hadn't Juhan been in the exact same position as him, experienced just as much heartbreak and pain? And yet his name was unblemished, with nobody's death on his hands. That fact, the fact that two people could endure the same set of events but unfurl into different people was enough to sever the one lingering justification Maynard had left.
But Juhan demanded answers, and so as much as he didn't wish to give one, as much as he wished he could convince Juhan that there was a semblance of good left on this island, he let the words flow from his mouth in a panicked yelp, teeth bared and face scrunched as sobs enveloped him once again.
"I. Don't. Have. One!"
He collapsed onto the grass, droplets of saliva dancing from his mouth with the ragged pants that coursed through his chest as he struggled to breathe properly. But before he could say or do anything else, could allow himself to be subjected to Juhans judgement anymore, the sound of approaching footfalls reached his ears accompanied by the knowledge that further judgement would soon be on its way. He spun around to identify their owner, several saturated strands of hair sticking to his face in the process and his voice rattling as a single word escaped his lips.
"Ami?"
Nine days. It had been nine whole days since Ami Flynn last saw any of her friends. Mallory, Baxter, Yukiko, all of them were all dead.
All of them, except for Maynard. Sweet, kind Maynard.
Ami didn't consider the fact that he killed someone. She didn't pay the look of pain on his face any mind. She heard the words Juhan was spewing at Maynard, his voice so filled with rage that Ami could hear him from the cafeteria door, but they meant nothing. Because Juhan was nothing to her; he mattered about as much as a tree or a lamppost, something to avoid bumping into. In that moment, the only person Ami saw was Maynard, Maynard, Maynard.
Maynard turned. He stared straight at her. Her heart jumped and her smile grew so wide it was almost painful.
"Maynard!"
Her arms were around him the second she reached him. Hot tears lapped at her face but they weren't the same ones she shed at the apartment. These tears brought elation, an alien piece of mind that she had neither the time nor the inclination to understand.
"God, Maynard, I'm so - You - I -"
Ami sniffled, hugging him with ever ounce of strength she had in her. She wanted to kiss him. Would that be too sappy? She was so happy, It was like seeing Maynard just, it cracked her brain and everything was spilling out! She was trying to talk but the words wouldn't reach her mouth, she was sputtering and babbling like an idiot. Maynard probably had no clue what she was saying.
So. She stopped.
Ami took a few deep breaths and tried her best to contain herself, if only for Maynard's sake. She squeezed his shoulders before letting go. Ami took a step back, beaming at Maynard.
"I'm sorry, I just...I'm so glad." She brushed her sleeve across her wet eyes. "You're still alive. I'm so glad."
The plan could work. With Maynard, it could work.
It could wait.
All of them, except for Maynard. Sweet, kind Maynard.
Ami didn't consider the fact that he killed someone. She didn't pay the look of pain on his face any mind. She heard the words Juhan was spewing at Maynard, his voice so filled with rage that Ami could hear him from the cafeteria door, but they meant nothing. Because Juhan was nothing to her; he mattered about as much as a tree or a lamppost, something to avoid bumping into. In that moment, the only person Ami saw was Maynard, Maynard, Maynard.
Maynard turned. He stared straight at her. Her heart jumped and her smile grew so wide it was almost painful.
"Maynard!"
Her arms were around him the second she reached him. Hot tears lapped at her face but they weren't the same ones she shed at the apartment. These tears brought elation, an alien piece of mind that she had neither the time nor the inclination to understand.
"God, Maynard, I'm so - You - I -"
Ami sniffled, hugging him with ever ounce of strength she had in her. She wanted to kiss him. Would that be too sappy? She was so happy, It was like seeing Maynard just, it cracked her brain and everything was spilling out! She was trying to talk but the words wouldn't reach her mouth, she was sputtering and babbling like an idiot. Maynard probably had no clue what she was saying.
So. She stopped.
Ami took a few deep breaths and tried her best to contain herself, if only for Maynard's sake. She squeezed his shoulders before letting go. Ami took a step back, beaming at Maynard.
"I'm sorry, I just...I'm so glad." She brushed her sleeve across her wet eyes. "You're still alive. I'm so glad."
The plan could work. With Maynard, it could work.
It could wait.
"You're still alive. I'm so glad."
Maynard was barely able to process the words as they passed though his ears, the softness behind them something he thought he'd never hear again in his life, not with his own name preceding them, at least. The tight embrace in which Ami had pulled him was surprise enough, as comforting as it was, but the sweet trail of words that followed was almost too much. Ami Flynn was hugging him, Ami who he'd once crushed on so badly, Ami who'd been so special, Ami who'd been his friend, Ami who'd killed, Ami who was the only person to show any sign of compassion to him for what seemed like forever.
Sheer, undulated elation flowed freely though him as she held him in her arms, something he didn't think it'd be possible to feel again. He wanted to hold onto this moment forever, cling to this one solitary trickle of happiness before it inevitably passed him by - it was something he knew he'd never feel again past this very moment.
It was the exact sort of feeling he wanted to have when he finally slipped away from this earth.
He knew it wouldn't last, and that's the very reason behind what happened next.
"Me too."
He gently slackened his grip around Ami's back and his reply passed through his lips without a trace of regret. It was with a smile fixed on his face and tears running from his eyes that Maynard raised his pistol to his head, and fired.
Maynard was barely able to process the words as they passed though his ears, the softness behind them something he thought he'd never hear again in his life, not with his own name preceding them, at least. The tight embrace in which Ami had pulled him was surprise enough, as comforting as it was, but the sweet trail of words that followed was almost too much. Ami Flynn was hugging him, Ami who he'd once crushed on so badly, Ami who'd been so special, Ami who'd been his friend, Ami who'd killed, Ami who was the only person to show any sign of compassion to him for what seemed like forever.
Sheer, undulated elation flowed freely though him as she held him in her arms, something he didn't think it'd be possible to feel again. He wanted to hold onto this moment forever, cling to this one solitary trickle of happiness before it inevitably passed him by - it was something he knew he'd never feel again past this very moment.
It was the exact sort of feeling he wanted to have when he finally slipped away from this earth.
He knew it wouldn't last, and that's the very reason behind what happened next.
"Me too."
He gently slackened his grip around Ami's back and his reply passed through his lips without a trace of regret. It was with a smile fixed on his face and tears running from his eyes that Maynard raised his pistol to his head, and fired.
Th...
...
This -
Ami screamed. A loud, blood-curdling scream. Her brain was lightyears behind her body and it left her feeling confused. She was still trying to process what just happened. She didn't know why she just screamed. She just did.
This...
This wasn't...
She stared down. Down at the body on the ground. Stared at the blood and specks of brain matter littering the corpse like rose petals. She stared at his face. noticing that while the bullet made a gaping, oozing hole in Maynard's head, his face was untouched. It was still Maynard, pale skin, rosy cheeks, freckles and all.
This wasn't supposed...
...
It was Maynard.
"Oh god."
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Ami's knees gave out. She dropped to the ground, on her knees, ankles spread, slouching, curling, hands over ears.
"No no no no no no no."
This wasn't supposed to happen.
The voices weren't voices but Ami noticed they were absent. She didn't know what to do and she couldn't turn to the passengers for help so she started rocking back and forth. She moaned under her breath, staring straight at Maynard's corpse as if it were all a big trick and it would only be a minute before Maynard sat up and grinned at her. But the longer she waited the more she understood that Maynard was dead, Maynard was shot, Maynard shot himself! That knowledge did not calm Ami's nerves, in fact it only served to make her hunch further, letting her greasy hair hang over her face as she closed her eyes and prayed to to God to save her.
But it was all useless. God abandoned Ami. He also abandoned every last person that was brought here and he was probably getting a kick out of everything that was happening.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Ami was completely, dreadfully, hopelessly, painfully alone on this fucking island.
And there was nothing she could do to change that.
The plan was gone. Swept away with the wind. Ami didn't know what else to do.
So she kept staring.
...
This -
Ami screamed. A loud, blood-curdling scream. Her brain was lightyears behind her body and it left her feeling confused. She was still trying to process what just happened. She didn't know why she just screamed. She just did.
This...
This wasn't...
She stared down. Down at the body on the ground. Stared at the blood and specks of brain matter littering the corpse like rose petals. She stared at his face. noticing that while the bullet made a gaping, oozing hole in Maynard's head, his face was untouched. It was still Maynard, pale skin, rosy cheeks, freckles and all.
This wasn't supposed...
...
It was Maynard.
"Oh god."
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Ami's knees gave out. She dropped to the ground, on her knees, ankles spread, slouching, curling, hands over ears.
"No no no no no no no."
This wasn't supposed to happen.
The voices weren't voices but Ami noticed they were absent. She didn't know what to do and she couldn't turn to the passengers for help so she started rocking back and forth. She moaned under her breath, staring straight at Maynard's corpse as if it were all a big trick and it would only be a minute before Maynard sat up and grinned at her. But the longer she waited the more she understood that Maynard was dead, Maynard was shot, Maynard shot himself! That knowledge did not calm Ami's nerves, in fact it only served to make her hunch further, letting her greasy hair hang over her face as she closed her eyes and prayed to to God to save her.
But it was all useless. God abandoned Ami. He also abandoned every last person that was brought here and he was probably getting a kick out of everything that was happening.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Ami was completely, dreadfully, hopelessly, painfully alone on this fucking island.
And there was nothing she could do to change that.
The plan was gone. Swept away with the wind. Ami didn't know what else to do.
So she kept staring.