Survival Of The Fittest

It was a really, really lucky break that Rose decided to speak up when she did. Had she not decided to butt in and be the voice of reason or some shit (Cody wondered when Rose suddenly decided to be reasonable when she could be so fucking neurotic in school), he was more than willing to hand off a few good smacks to Edgar's fucking nose. He wanted to play the big man, huh? He wanted to give his talks of being useful and being all survivalist or whatever, but when asked in what ways he could help, all he knew how to do was mouth off.

Cody was starting to realize that no matter what crazy plan this kid concocted, it was about as likely to get them out of this murder situation as it was to get them rocketed off to space or transported to another world. Tolstoff was clearly clueless, and there were a few ways to potentially get the message across that nobody wanted to listen to his bullshit. One was to, as Cody had quite vividly imagined before, punch that stupid nose until it sat concave in Edgar's face. The other way, of course, utilized the gun that he was holding...

Cody squeezed the thought away. That shit got real dark real fast, and he needed to control his temper so he didn't become as idiotic as somebody like Edgar had already fallen. He turned to try and focus on Rose... only for that not to help at all, since it seemed like SHE didn't have the beginnings of a plan either.

This was starting to become a bit too much. The situation was stacking upon itself, with them all lost inside some broken-down greenhouse with the glass shattered and plants growing wildly. Three of them had no plans, and only one of them seemed to have a weapon that could aid their survival at all. Rose just got some damn cereal, and Edgar got...

Actually, Edgar had never revealed what he got, had he? What if it was something useful? What if it was something dangerous, even? What if all Cody had to do to secure it and thus ensure his survival was...

"Fuck his name," Cody interrupted Rose's query. He knew the answer and could just give it himself, but that was also assuming he cared. "Why don't we find out what you brought to the party, huh? See if, with all that talk of being useful, you actually ARE worth a damn?"

Cody flicked his wrist and pushed down on the butt of the rifle in his hand to tilt the barrel up until it was pointing in Edgar's vague direction. It was a move like in western films, something a fucking cowboy would do, pointing a rifle at somebody from the hip with one hand. The fact that he was aiming a weapon at a human being hadn't really sunk in, but likely because it was done in a fashion so ridiculous that it seemed like more of a flashy maneuver than intent to kill.

"Because with the way you just spoke to me, I have half a mind to blow a fucking hole right through you. Do you understand, you little shithead?" Cody said with a snarl, all of his attention placed directly on Edgar. Rose could say what she wanted about it, but she couldn't stop him from letting the losers in school get what they deserved, and she wasn't going to stop him hear, either. "Talk to me like that again, you're dead. Now..."

He motioned towards the ground.

"Get your bag, open it up nice and slow. We're going to find out what you got."

Edgar was vaguely irritated that the girl didn't know his name and made no secret of her ignorance. It was rude, but Edgar knew he needed to swallow his pride. This group could be useful, maybe not the sharpest tools but they were a means to an end. At least they had stopped banging their heads against the wall with their seemingly endless bickering. A plan, finally they were all on the same page. Planning and strategy that was Edgar's area, he would show them that he was useful. He did hit the problem of not having a plan, a good first point would seem to be forming a group. Being watched would mean that they need to be very careful with what they said, he imagined any attempt to block the monitoring would lead to immediate termination. He was about to communicate his thoughts to the girl when Cody spoke.

The smile was wiped off his face as he looked round to Cody. All the colour drained from his face as the rifle was once again pointed at him, and now Cody was pissed. A part of his mind was trying to convince him this was simply Cody's ego trying to reassert its dominance.This wasn't how the hero was supposed to be treated, he was preaching peace and cooperation. This wasn't fair. Not fair at all, he was going to die simply because he was right and had spoken his mind doing the right thing. He tried to think of something clever to say to mediate the situation but his brain again turned up blank. Nothing was significant except the rifle pointing towards him.

Edgar felt like crying, this was the end. All his potential gone for nothing. It seemed like Cody was robbing him. He slowly raised his hands backing away and picking up his bag. He had no idea what his weapon was. He unbuckled the bag with exaggerated slowness. He emptied the contents on the floor looking for the weapon. Ignoring the food and utilities he eventually spotted a small bottle he pointed at it.

When Cody pointed his gun in Edgar's direction, Rose started to move to stop him, raising a hand, getting up from her seat, opening her mouth. But it was only a reflex, and she only budged an inch before budging right back. Sometimes Cody's bluntness and meat-headed aggression really got on her nerves, but really, that depended on who exactly he targeted. It could have been someone who Rose found legitimately cool or in the right, but it could also have been a weaselly shit with bullshit everybody else was too "polite" to call out. This was one of those occasions.

After the breakup, one fight too many that Rose and Cody had between them, Rose thought she'd try to find someone nicer than Cody to go out with. But her luck kept getting in the way, and she kept finding guys that weren't as nice as they claimed to be. They made a big deal out of how much more sensitive they were to girls like they wanted to write acoustic guitar ballads out of the subject, but once Rose got to know them she saw jealousy and insecurity and petty passive-aggressive shit disguised as witty banter or whatever they wanted to call it.

She got a similarly disingenuous vibe off this other guy. Sure, he talked a big game about getting off the island and building bridges with the heart of the cards, but what did he actually do? He overreacted to every word that passed between Rose and Cody, eager to spin it off like they were still fresh off the break-up and ready to kill each other. Oh God, was his lip quivering or did Rose just imagine that? She'd like to see the self-absorbed messiah man judge the two of them with a gun pointed at his head.

Now that she thought about it, there were worse people in the world than Cody to hang around with.

The other boy opened his bag, revealing a little bottle of medicine. No, this was different, Rose saw. It contained a dark liquid instead of a bunch of pills. That was it, huh? Rose didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

Was this really how it was all going to end?

The thought had crossed his mind before, it was likely to do so many more times until he was off this island, one way or another. After everything they'd done, how hard he'd worked, all he'd accomplished battling through high school, every day spent making something of himself, and it ended like this? With them all herded off a plane and forced into the abbatoir?

He shouldn't've gone aboard, should've tried to talk Amy out of the flight. He knew she was scared of heights, he'd taken the window seat next to her to calm her down, but why hadn't he given just driving more than a half-hearted mention? Sure, it was seventeen hours from Seattle to Disneyland, but the drive could've been nice, just the two of them. Instead, at least one of them was going to die here, broken and bloody, their bodies to become food for the birds and insects.

He really, really could have done without imagining her like that, a scream on her lips as she lay shattered and drowning in her own blood. The thought turned his blood to ice for a moment, until a shake of the head finally dispelled it. The trees had at some point melted away into an endless field of wheat, strand upon strand flanking him at the shoulders, bending to let him pass but never breaking. The wheat went on for what looked like for ever, and still he had no idea what he was doing, the hacksaw they'd given him still in his pack in case it proved useful in a way that didn't involve maiming and murder.

He had no ideas, save one. He wasn't the animal Danya and his jackals wanted him to be. He wouldn't lower himself to become them, not until the last of his ability to resist. But he needed more than that, and the warm summer sun beat his shoulders, asking what then? with gentle winds that swayed the wheat to and fro. Escape? Find Amy, find the team, fight your way off the island? Hide out until no one else remained?

His father would know what to do. Thomas would know. Either of them would already have a strategy and be halfway done with it by now. Neither of them were here to snap their fingers and make this problem go away. It was just him, the son who was good at hitting things and his friends on the football team. What could he do against these people, with just his fists and a saw, when they'd done this four times over the years and always escaped back into the darkness?

They'd always escaped, and everyone who'd died had died for nothing. Was that going to happen to him? What else could?

You could fight, you could win.

And if he did that, would he really be himself any more, or the beast the terrorists thought lived in them all? He knew of the past winners, and what they'd had to do. At least one had turned himself into a monster just to fight off the horrors, and it didn't help him in the end. The wheat gave way to a farmhouse, old and worn but with voices coming from it, and still he hadn't answered his own questions. Find his team, find Amy, and then what?

The answer might be to just keep going. What else could a man do? His feet carried him past the house and to another building, which drew closer and closer unbidden. It was a shell of a thing, with greenery poking out shattered windows, and something sounded like it was happening. He pressed against the wall when he reached it, peering in.

...And stepping out into the open, compelled by the sight. He could at least duck back into cover, but Jesus, there was Cody fucking Patton holding someone at gunpoint. He had to have missed something, right?

"Cody? What's going on here?" Michael Eastmund hoped like hell he wasn't about to get himself shot.

Cody held the rifle tucked to his hip as Edgar did exactly what he was told - easily the smartest thing he had done all day, no doubt. Once or twice, near the beginning of Edgar's search at least, Cody checked for Rose in his peripherals. He was surprised... maybe not pleasantly, but surprised in some other good way that left him relieved that Rose hadn't seemed to object too much to what he was doing. That much seemed strange... maybe she trusted Cody not to point the gun at her? Maybe she thought he really couldn't go through with it? He didn't know what was going through her head when they were together, and he sure as fuck couldn't figure it out any time soon.

So he kept his focus exactly where it needed to be, watching Edgar empty his bag until a small bottle was revealed among all the other effects. Cody leaned in slightly to look at it, gun still at the ready. The label read, among some other cautionary text, 'Ipecac' in big bold black lettering. Edgar had a bottle of ipecac, Rose had a box of cereal...

Cody had the only real weapon in the area.

After a moment or so, Cody stood up straight, looking from the bottle to Edgar. He chuckled. He hadn't meant to laugh, but he was chuckling before he knew it, from stress or anger or possibly legitimate humor or fuck all if he knew exactly why. A few gasping breaths ended his giggling, and the Winchester rifle was tucked just a little tighter to Cody's side.

"Well, that's great! You got a bottle of ipecac so you can make people puke... heh... h-heh..."

Cody Patton swung the rifle up and brought his other hand to steady it. He wasn't holding the damn thing like a cowboy anymore, but like how any moron knew how to hold a rifle. His veins felt like they were restricted from being dipped in ice water; the barrel was pointed straight at Edgar's chest before he knew it, and it was something he could hardly believe. His eyes opened wide, full of all the frustration and anger from before.

"You... what the fuck are you even good for, then!?" Cody screamed, hands trembling in the outburst. "That's all you have? That? You're going to try and win with THAT!?"

No, this wasn't good... he was losing it, and losing it fast. He was just one flick of the safety and one pull of the trigger from sending Edgar straight to hell, but he needed to think instead of scream. Was this the best move to make? Could he really kill a classmate, no matter how shitty they seemed or how much they pissed him off? Cody attempted to reflect on this with the gun in his hands, searching for the answer through the cold steel barrel.

The answer?

He could do it if he didn't miss.

Honestly, the more he thought about it, the more perfect it all seemed. He had just confirmed that he was the only one with any real weapon, and it wasn't a club or some shit. It was a gun, a point-and-shoot-and-you're-dead fucking GUN. He could shoot Edgar and, if Rose had any objections, he could just shoot her. Then he could take their food, stash it somewhere, and kill everybody else. He could have this.

All he had to do was pull the trigger.

Cody felt around for the safety with his thumb. Several groping moments passed without him finding it, and he had to flit his eyes down for a moment just to find it, then flip it. The gun remained pointed at Edgar. Fuck this tool... fuck him and his stupid plans and his shitty weapons and...

One pull.

One-

Cody seized up when he heard his name. Had his finger been on the trigger at that moment, it would've jerked back and likely sent a bullet through Edgar's heart. The calling replayed several times in his brain, his mind trying to attribute a face and a name to the voice while freaking out over the prospect of taking a life.

"Brandon? No... Mike?" Cody asked quietly, steeling his nerves the best he could while staring at Edgar, gun still pointed. "What's going on? I'm about to kill Edgar is what's fucking going on."

Cody had lost it, it was as simple as that.

Somehow Edgar's weapon had tipped him over the edge, he had been unstable but now he had just gone. He wished they didn't have a gun pointed at him, there was no point reasoning with him. That scared Edgar almost as much as the rifle pointed at him. That mirthless laugh and the guy was shaking. He prayed this wasn't the default response to this sick game: paranoia, madness and unless Edgar thought of something very quickly murder.

He listened to Cody slag him off. He considered replying but knew it would have no effect. His pride demanded that he replied but he knew it wasn't worth dying for. His eyes were fixed on the rifle in front of him. He heard a new voice approaching the situation. He didn't give a damn who it was, unless they were here for some constructive reason or to talk Cody out of his rash action. For now they were a total irrelevance . Everything for him revolved around this conflict. They were trying to solve this matter like men and the constant interruptions were not helping.

Cody's next words made his whole world crash down. Cody was going to kill him. He couldn't believe this was the end, he had so much potential so much talent and it was all going to waste. He really needed to say something. He had sat there millions of times and given speeches on diverse subjects, here there was rather more pressure and the result was a thousand times more important. Now was time for a magnificent speech, his defining moment:

"Cody, don't give in to it, the pressure I mean. You're better than this. Think very carefully before you pull that trigger, this isn't a game do you really want to take a life, live with that. It is the paranoia talking you don't need to do this. We can all get out of this if we stay united if......"

Edgar began to panic he couldn't think of anything else to say, he desperately searched his mind for more but it simply wouldn't come. He felt panic rising in him and he couldn't contain it, this was the end. What was he doing wasting his final moments trying to reason with a mad man, even his fine words would be wasted. At that moment a thought popped into his head and Edgar grabbed hold of it with both hands, he was willing to say anything to save his life:

"Sure we may not be friends but I can be useful, I'm smart and cos we have different friends together we have ties to most people, we can we can rule this island. I'll i'll... pay you, carry your stuff anything just just dont kill me, it.... isn't in your best interests, my bests interests anyones interest.

He could hardly speak by now he was so frightened. His skin was ashen and he felt tears rolling down his cheeks, as he gasped great lungfulls of air. He couldn't drag his eyes away from the weapon, he was frozen to the spot. He knew he was tripping over his words, his speed was erratic.

He prayed his words were enough through the agonising few seconds as he looked at Cody awaiting his move.

It wasn't the first time Rose had made an immediate turnaround on an opinion of hers, cursing herself for buying into a thought she now rejected as stupid, or for rejecting a thought she now believed to have been a better alternative than her current situation. But it was a horribly dramatic occasion, and potentially the last she'd have if she fucked up here. Somehow, she got it into her head that Cody might not have been as bad as she thought he was, that the two of them would make good company on the island, and she could use him to help her survive.

But no, Cody revealed himself to be the violent thug Rose had thought he was in her most spiteful moments, willing to kill anyone who crossed him or even just pissed him off. It wasn't like Rose even liked Edgar, but he didn't want to see him tenderized and chunked!

Just then, a new challenger appeared. Rose didn't recognize him, but she felt herself direct feelings of resentment onto him. At the moment she looked terrified, both that she was about to witness a murder and that she might become corpse herself.

She clenched her fist, gritted her teeth. That was the worst thing about all of this, the feeling of powerlessness. Cody held all of the cards, and she had none. If she got up, he could just kill her immediately and he wouldn't bat an eye. With that gun, he could force her to do anything he wanted.

Even if Rose could never escape this hell on earth, she vowed then and there that she wouldn't let Cody win. Before they parted for good, she'd make sure that he wasn't in charge. He wouldn't be on top forever.

"Hey, I've got a better idea: how about we don't murder some kid in cold blood?"

Okay, easy now. This wasn't the ring, where the worst he could get was a bloody nose. Cody was holding a very big gun, and looked pissed off enough he just might use it and make this day end very badly for everyone involved. Still, this was Cody - sure, he could be two faced sometimes, and a bit obnoxious, but he wasn't a killer. He was better than that, Mike'd learned as much.

A lot of trust you're putting in this guy...

Yeah, but more than he deserved? That was a gamble he'd have to take. He never really knew Edgar all that well, but if they were already turning on each other then what chance did they really have? Did they really want to prove the people who put them here right?

"Cody, man, relax. I just got here, I don't know what Edgar did, but is it really worth blowing his head off? We're better than this."

"Mike. Shut. The fuck. Up."

Cody's hands quivered. His teeth clenched, and his forehead furrowed with frustration to the point where he would have wondered if he looked silly were it not for the matter at hand. There was Edgar, as pathetic and useless as he had been from the very start, standing still and ready to die. Rose couldn't stop him, Mike couldn't stop. Not in time, anyway.

Mike's words had reached him, but to what end? So Edgar hadn't done anything. Why did anybody have to do anything to deserve death at this point? They had all been in the same place, all woken up together in that goddamn hall.

They all saw the spray of blood. They all saw Mr. Davidge... Cody saw his coach, a man he truly respected and practically loved almost like a second father figure, murdered in cold blood. Then they were told the rules, and they seems pretty cut and dry. They, too, would have to murder each other if they wanted a shot at living. Edgar? Edgar would be only one of more than a hundred and fifty kids. Just one face in a crowd, somebody nobody would miss more than any other. Just a human being who could be shot, bleed out or die instantly...

The weight of the gun burned Cody's hands. His eyes itched, his ears rang. How about we don't murder a kid in cold blood, Mike wanted to suggest? How about he was next. All his stupid talk of not killing and not flipping out and not being a monster. How were any of them supposed to live? Edgar thinking he was weak and giving in? Who the fuck knew what Rose was even thinking. Cody Patton is not weak. He does not break or give in to pressure.

He wins. He wins games. That's what he does.

Pull the trigger, Cody.

3.

2.

1.

Cody let out a weak, cracked cry and removed the forward hand from the gun, letting it swing like dead weight in his right hand. "I can't do it..." he muttered, mostly to himself. He turned his left shoulder to Edgar and squinted his eyes shut, hoping it would close away the shame. He kept turning, slowly walking towards the back of the greenhouse. He half-hoped his voice wouldn't carry to the others as he spoke.

"I'm sorry. It just... it just sort of happened."    

(Tyler Lucas continued from Stagecoach, and other vehicles)

"Christ," Tyler said.  "You and your fucking sister."

He'd set out at a brisk pace across the island shortly after facing off with Travis at the amusement park, and briefly stared at a number of people in the distance before shrugging and moving on.  The greenhouse had briefly attracted his attention, but he'd seemed to be moving on before he'd heard yells from within.  He'd watched from the windows as the fighting escalated, than quietly circled to one of the entrances as Cody had leveled the gun.

And then, as Cody apologized.

"Treating it like it's a god damn toy," Tyler grunted.  "Pointing it for no god damn reason."  He still had the dirty brown bottles in either hand, but he was barely looking at Cody as he spoke, his small eyes sweeping the room, flickering from Rose to Mike to Edgar and back again.  "Stupid shit."

Edgar closed his eyes.

Squeezing them tightly shut he just hoped it would be quick. The other voices blended together into background voice all that mattered was the here and now. He found himself reciting a half remembered prayer under his breath. Something from his childhood. Anything to save his life.

He collapsed onto the floor, the stress overpowering him. He raised his hand to protect him. More out of instinct than any real hope. He heard Cody's cry and opened his eyes. He wondered if someone had attacked Cod, this could be his moment to escape. Thank god! He knew something was watching out for him, wanted him to survive.

He was surprised to see Cody turn away. He had his second chance.

"thank you, thank you thank you"

he muttered under his breath as he backed away. His legs shaky. He wasn't really sure who or what he was thanking, he was just so thankful for another chance

and he wasn't going to waste it.

(Edgar Tolstoff continued elsewhere)

Cody always said that Rose was hard to read, an inscrutable motherfucker who confused and frustrated him. She didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, with all the emoting she did in real life. Did Cody find her confusing when they had their last fight? Oh, she certainly hoped not. And she hoped that he could see how stressed and tense she was when he had that fucking gun. Rose honestly thought that Cody would have shattered Edgar's stupid head. She would have bet money or maybe rations on it.

But that wasn't what happened. After being badgered by that new guy, angrily rebuffing him, Cody aimed the gun, put his finger to the trigger, and didn't pull. He lost his nerve. The final line had yet to be crossed this day. Instead, all of Cody's bravado drained out of him and he gave a sheepish apology. Wow. Best letdown ever.

"Jesus Christ, Cody, you really had me going there," Rose said after letting out a relieved exhale. She watched Edgar simper like a cowardly weasel and run away, hopefully never to cross their paths again. That was just one example of how not to interact with Cody With a Shotgun. But there were plenty of other ways to piss Cody off, and she'd need to somehow steer clear of all of them until she could guarantee he wouldn't fuck her up. She could run, but she could also use him for protection. Ugh, what to do.

Her thoughts on the matter were interrupted when another jock came stumbling onto them. Rose had never liked Tyler Lucas. Whenever someone asked what the hell she ever saw in Cody, she would always point to someone like Tyler or Adonis Alba and say, "at least Cody isn't THAT." And now Tyler was being smug with Cody and belittling him for not using the shotgun. Wonderful. "Hello to you too, Tyler," Rose said, rolling her eyes.

(Sorry, was kind of low on ideas.)

"Easy, Tyler."

Mike had stepped aside to let Edgar run past, letting the boy disappear in the ocean of wheat, and no sooner had that potential explosion simmered down than Tyler Lucas showed up to egg things on again. Because what was really needed after someone had almost been shot was for a drooling, potbellied thug who made all athletes look bad to show up and insult the nervous guy holding a fucking rifle. At least he didn't look armed - Cody seemed to be the only one with much to show as weapons went.

Right. Thoughts like that wouldn't help either. Mike stepped properly inside, crossing the floor a bit - not smart to get in Cody's way, but here he'd be in position to block anyone going after anyone else hopefully, and better than standing outside like a fool. Fools, from what he remembered, didn't last long in this game.

Nor was it smart to be getting at each other's throats so early. At least two of his team were here, and for as dramatic as the breakup with Cody had been Rose was good people. They could work with this. He kept a nice position in the middle of the room, hoping for "relaxed and reasonable".

"How about you come on in? We can cool down, start figuring out what to do about all this shit. Have you run into anyone?"

(Jumping back in since it's been awhile).

No sooner did he enter than Edgar broke past him, heading off.  Tyler watched him go a moment, then shrugged.

He then shot a glance towards Rose, eyes narrowed in what might have been a glare, but when he spoke it was with a note of apology in his voice.  "Sorry," he said gruffly.  "More focused on the guy with the gun.  Kinda have to be."

Then turned eyes to Mike.  This time there was definitely a trace of anger in his gaze, but his voice was level when he said, "Think I'm good right here.  gotten into a few fights already.  His sister tried to take my shit, for one."  He jerked his head at Cody, but the anger dissipated quickly, replaced with something a little hesitant, a little nervous.  His eyes flickered between Mike and Cody.

"Lomelli," he said.  "Do...do you really think they...?"

(It's been my turn for two days. Two days. New order is myself, Brad, Kyle, Grim.)

Cody kept his back turned on everybody else in the greenhouse. It was a good thing Mike had stepped in after Tyler decided to say something that was, in quite the feat, more rage-inducing than any of the trash that Edgar managed to produce. In much fewer words. If Mike hadn't stepped in... Cody couldn't finish that sentence, because he honestly didn't know. He wanted to say that maybe he would have turned around and shot the fucker in the head, but after what just happened with Edgar, it was apparent that shooting somebody was much easier said than done.

Things were a little awkward just standing there, rifle dangling loosely in his right hand, turned away from everybody else. He wanted to say something to Rose or Mike, maybe apologize again, but definitely wanted nothing to do with the new arrival who decided to make himself known in as stupid and unpleasant a manner as possible. What was offered to him, at least, was a moment to take in what had just happened. Cody had nearly lost himself, and so soon. He had been awake less than an hour and somebody nearly died at his hand. Apparently, his apology wasn't enough.

Actually? Fuck it. He did have something to say to Tyler after all.

The quarterback of the Aurora High football team turned around to look at two of his teammates and his ex. It was a pleasant group to be met with in such a dire situation, to be sure. Only way things could be better was if his sister came over and made things uncomfortable as hell. Speaking of, the fucking douche had something to say about his sister, too.

"Okay..." Cody held up his free hand, taking a quick breath. "I'm fine Mike, so don't worry about me. Now. Tyler." He locked eyes with the little shithead.

"Three things. Don't talk to me like that ever fucking again. Two, yes, coach is dead. As much as I don't want to remember it, we all saw it. We saw the bastards shoot Davidge, so they probably aren't fucking around when they say they shot all the others. Pretty sure that wasn't left up to debate. Three, what happened with my sister?"

He swore, if Tyler so much as touched her...