Survival Of The Fittest

The day passed, and the night. Isaiah dug.

First, he completed the grave. However, by then it was evening, and the tide had come in. He knew tides. He should have expected it. This did nothing to change the fact that the grave was too close to the sea, that water was trickling over the edges and eroding the rim. So he moved it, and Dougal too. He moved further inland, past the high water mark, and he made a new one.

Somewhere before all of this, he had checked the collapsed guy, found him drunk. Luckily, he too was above the high tide line.

Isaiah found himself slightly less inclined to help the fellow. Drunk, at a time like this? He knew the need to escape pressure. Knew the ease of finding solace in alcohol. Knew the folly of the solution, in the long run. But, how could he judge?

Muttered, under his breath: "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1."

It made him feel better. The phrase was open to interpretation, serving as both a mild condemnation of the drunk boy's behavior (for, if there was ever a time not to be drunk, it was now), and also an admission of his own possibility of error (for, if there was a time to every purpose, there was surely a time to drink one's way into oblivion to escape impending doom). Either way, it provided something to ponder as he dug.

And so, now, as the rays of dawn shone down from above, as the boy woke from his stupor and began to speak, as Isaiah pushed the last of the sand over the body he had ensconced in the dirt, he found himself still pondering. Pondering the broader implications of their situation, the meaning of it all. It wasn't helping. All he could see was that he still had something to do. Maybe not a divine mandate, but a purpose nonetheless, a reason to keep going.

It wasn't to babysit some pasty moron who'd gotten drunk and now had a headache.

And so, it was time to move on. Time to find someone who truly could use his help. Adrian, Andrew, and the other guy could take care of themselves. The same could not be said for everyone. He wished his companions of the past day the best, as sincerely as he could. He just couldn't stay.

Isaiah stood, stretching. He was stiff. Drunk guy explained that he was Kevin, that he'd seen a killing. Bad news, that. It added a sense of urgency. A sense that Isaiah couldn't waste any more time. How to explain, though? How to convey the message without coming across as a jerk, without insulting these people? But then, if they were insulted, that was their problem. He meant no offense. He simply had more important things to do.

"Isaiah Garvey," he said in response, with a nod. Glancing to Andrew and Adrian, he added, "Thanks for your help. I'm sure they'll rest easier.

"Unfortunately, I need to get moving. There's a lot of people out there who could use a hand. Keep safe. God bless."

A smile. He adjusted his hat, hoisted his bag. The guy who'd left so long ago wasn't back yet. That was the way he'd go, then. He'd assumed the boy had just needed space, just needed to grieve, but it had been hours now, so he couldn't be sure. Yes. Start there, then keep moving. Do the best possible in the time remaining. Defend those who need it.

He looked around, suddenly remembering the metal bar he'd taken back at the cell tower. It was gone, vanished beneath the sands over a day's tide, lost with the remnants of the first grave he'd dug. Somehow, he didn't mind.

He didn't need a weapon anyways.

A wave, and Isaiah was off.

((Isaiah Garvey continued Late Dawns and Early Sunsets))

((Breaking post order and moving Isaiah out to avoid inactivity and keep chronology nice and sensible))

The drunk and unconscious kid had woken up sometime during the digging and Andrew stopped his skygazing to sit up and get a better look at him. The other boy looked like he had been through a lot and after he explained that he had just witnessed a killing, Andrew was able to better understand why he was completely shitfaced a couple of hours back. Not that he still didn't think this Kevin kid was anyone worth allying with in the game, but beggars couldn't be choosers. 'I'm probably lucky...I haven't seen anything horrible like that yet. Still...getting so drunk you pass out doesn't seem like a good coping method. But who knows, maybe it was so gruesome....ugh, better not think about it anymore.'

Isaiah gave his own clipped greeting and immediately followed with a farewell. Andrew just gave him a wave as the black runner walked off, a little disappointed that he hadn't stayed around to form a possible alliance. But Isaiah seemed to be more interested in finding random people to help like some sort of modern-day saint and Andrew silently wished him the best as he disappeared from sight. Turning his attention back to Kevin, he gave the hungover kid a short nod.

"Andrew Mitchell. I helped bury a kid who got shot in the forehead."

He couldn't help but grin. It wasn't a pleasant one but one that showed just how...how ridiculous everything seemed. Here they were, two kids who were surrounded by death, but they were chatting about it like it was the day's sports scores. It was twisted in such a horrible way, but at least neither of them had done any killing yet. ...At least, he hoped Kevin wasn't a liar and had actually just blown away several students. 'I've still got my gun...I don't think he's a killer, but just in case...'

The first boy who he met when he awoke decided it was pertinent to quote bible verses and say "God Bless" as he left. Normally Kevin really had no points of interest among religions or faith - he was a fairly agnostic person. Strangely enough, though, Kevin felt a sudden envy at what he perceived to be the stronger ability that faithful people had to face death. They expected a paradise on the other side, so it was easy to consider leaving this Earth. Kevin looked around. Paradise was a long, long way off. On a personal level, Kevin just couldn't subscribe to religion itself - it just didn't make much sense to him. Now, with the prospect of dying all around him, it seemed a lot more useful than he could've imagined.

The second one introduced himself as Andrew Mitchell, who had helped bury a kid who got shot in the head. Kevin couldn't help but smirk at the very casual way they both discussed experiences of death and the horrors around them. Kevin was certain he'd seen a black comedy SOTF sketch somewhere on Youtube. The site really lost any kind of taste a LONG time ago. In any case, they sounded quite similar.

Kevin sat up, and brushed off some of the sand.

"What a fucked up world we live in. "

He rubbed his eyes.

"So... have any plans for survival?"

(Skipping Vanikoro to avoid inactivity.)

Kevin seemed to share his humor at their situation and Andrew's grin only grew a little bit wider. It felt good to have someone else share your opinion, even if the opinion was "We're so fucked." Andrew pondered on Kevin's question for a bit, slowly rocking back and forth on the sand. He never actually put much thought into escape. From what he knew about the game, they were all on some remote island and for the past couple of iterations, no one had come to the students' rescue. Escape attempts usually ended badly for the escapees and he doubted Danya would be so dumb as to leave a boat lying around.

As for survival...beyond the simple mantra of "Stay alive and don't piss anyone off", he didn't really have a plan. He wasn't even sure if you could plan for a game like SotF. To survive without killing your fellow students? Probably not possible.

So he just shrugged. "Nope. Well, nothing concrete. Just trying to stay alive. Heh."

"You got a plan? Something better than getting piss drunk, I hope." Andrew sighed and climbed to his feet, brushing sand off of his pants and shrugging. "Well...plan or not, staying in one place for a long time isn't going to help. It's time for me to scoot. You can come with if you want, but it's up to you."

With that, he turned and began jogging away.

(( Andrew Mitchell continued elsewhere. ))

Kevin snorted at the idea.

"Honestly, I'd drink myself to death if I had enough, but I think I'd probably end up throwing it up first. I never really was good at holding my liquor... as you might've noticed."

Plan. There really wasn't any concrete answer that Kevin was expecting. It wasn't like there would be anyone on the island with any solid idea of how to really escape other than suicide, or killing everyone else. Other than that, you really didn't escape death at all. Though he'd gone over this again and again and again. Doing it once more really didn't help at all. No. There was no plan.

Kevin lingered on the idea, sighing and looking back up at Andrew. He shrugged, and simply sat there. Andrew quickly decided to take off, and Kevin followed him.

((Kevin Warick continued in Nothing To See))

((Taking Over Adrian))

The boy who Adrian had called out to remained unconcious on the floor. Adrian thought of doing something but Isaiah was already walking towards him. Isaiah looked at the person a moment and muttered under his breath before returning to the grave. It seemed the person was merely drunk. Might as well finish up the grave. It was the best he could do right now.

Digging the grave took longer than he thought it would. The loose sand and the tides compounded the problem. But at last, the grave was done, and the sun was beginning to rise. The person lying drunk on the floor began to stir. He explained his name was Kevin and that he'd seen a killing. Seems that almost everyone had seen one.

He looked back at the grave. Isaiah was picking up his bag. And with a short farewell, he was gone. Adrian watched as he left. Lots of people who could use a hand, huh? The person who was helping him dig introduced himself as Andrew. The two talked for a while before Andrew decided that staying here would do him no good. Looked like Kevin was following too. Plans huh? Maybe he should follow the two of them. It was safer that way wasn't it? The two of them were already a good way off.

Adrian picked up his pack and glanced back at the grave. He had to make sure he didn't end up like that.

Just then, the PA system came to life. Adrian tried to shut out that unaturally cheerful voice which continued to read out names of people now dead. But he stopped when he heard Sarah's name. She had killed Eve. He had known something was wrong when she had first taken out that video camera but this was beyond anything he could have thought of. If only he had run a little faster. He might have been able to stop her. He might have been able to help her. And Eve. Adrian hadn't known her personally but everyone had heard when she had gotten pregnant.

"Damn it, Sarah. Damn You."

The voice continued to read out the rest of the names but Adrian couldn't care any longer. Adrian ran after the two who had just left.

((Adrian Staib continued in Where was my Brain? And I believe this thread is concluded.))