Survival Of The Fittest

The gunshots sounded too real in a weird surreal sense. They didn’t sound like real bullets hitting the real ground, more of a creative decision to make them sound too realistic. That was why Angie originally didn’t react to the sound of the fighting because she felt like she was watching a movie. When she realized what it was, Angie hid behind a tree. She held her gun to her chest, taking deep breaths.

She wasn’t sure what she could do. Yes, Angie could leave and nobody would blame her. Nobody would say “fuck you Angie for leaving us for no reasons” since she had a valid reason to book it. She had to live, she had to until she met her brother. There weren’t any reasons for Angie to stay here.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Angie sighed, she took a deep breath before turning around, aiming her gun toward the forest. “Guys, I’ll handle it.”

She said that, but she wasn’t sure how. There were several things that had to be done. Take care of the shooter, get the two teenagers away from the gunfire, and avoid getting shot to death. All of this made the escort mission very dangerous, and it had little reward. Angie would gain nothing out of it. She fired back at the person. Angie knew one thing: if she waited long enough, they would run out of bullet. Along with that, she could use the time they use to reload to rush to the nearest cover.

The bullets were targeting the two bystanders. She took the opportunity to fire shots at the figure. Anything to get them to back down, and anything to give time for the others to make a run for it.

Obviously, Quinn missed. She wasn't expecting anything else. She felt a mild sense of regret for a bullet expended, but seeing Garren dive to the floor in a puff of sand was recompense enough. It didn't dispel her irritation entirely, though, and indeed after the initial satisfaction of the gun's kick, the loud bang, Quinn's frustration began to flow right back into the empty reservoir. Causing inconvenience and discomfort--perhaps a little fear--paled in comparison to her imaginings.

What was sand in the wrong places to a handmade shiv driven into the belly?

The other boy turned and fled as Katelynne hit the ground too. If it'd been just those two this would have been workable, but no, the other girl with the gun had to be here. Had to ruin--

The gun rose and Quinn ducked down, trying to make herself small behind the dune. Puffs of sand kicked up not too far away from her, but not near enough to construe a close call. Shooting was more difficult than that, evidently. Still, this dune was no cover at all, and she'd outstayed her welcome. Quinn raised the rifle again and shot back at the other girl, and then scrambled to her feet and ran as hard and fast as she could.

Perhaps another reunion would be in their future. She hoped so. There was so much left unsaid.

((Quinn continued in One Final Embrace))

There were more bullets flying overhead now, and as Garren lay there, heart pounding in his ears, he realised he was in pretty much the absolute worst place he could possibly fucking be in the middle of a firefight. Flat on his front in the middle of a completely level beach, visible from every single angle possible, caught directly in the crossfire. And bright orange was a shitty camouflage in literally any situation.

Unless he instantaneously gained the ability to dig through sand at mach 10 speeds, he was a sitting duck. And his name was Garren, not Emmett; he didn’t have the ability to dig himself into the deepest holes possible.

He could just about hear Katelynne through the crack of bullets leaving the chamber, and the whoosh and thud sound of them hurtling through the air into the sand around them. Yeah, the girl had the right plan. He’d already managed to navigate a re-enactment of the Battle of Hastings a few minutes ago. He wasn’t keen on having to do the same for fucking D-Day.

Garren took a deep breath, careful not to inhale a lungful of sand, praying to Gaben that he didn’t get headshot the moment he stood up. Then he shoved his hands down, pushing himself up onto one knee, then swiftly rising and moving forwards like the world’s shittiest sprinter, grabbing his bag and pickaroon as he did. His feet sank into the sand, and he almost tripped and sprawled right on his goddamn stupid face once more. Somehow, he stayed upright, yelling behind him as he ran.

“C’mon, move! Follow me!”

Would Katelynne actually follow him, especially given this couldn’t be a more clear cut case of the blind leading the blind if he’d tried? It didn’t matter, but he kinda hoped she did. She’d been chill. A refreshing change of pace from the Brady bunch yesterday.

He glanced back once more, and saw Angie running off as well, and he had just enough time to realise they could both die here, and he’d have done nothing to help them, before he was swallowed up by the trees, and his mind focused solely on pushing through the branches and getting the fuck out of dodge.

((Garren Mortimer continued in no garren there will be no cbt on my murder island))

this was it she was gonna die right here right now she cheated death he was coming for her debt collection couldn't even see princess or nona or dante one last time

Bullets crackled nearby. Katelynne looked up to see the assault rifle girl firing back at wherever the assailant was. Garren was already up, commanding Katelynne to follow him and get out of this place.

She didn't need to be told twice.

She pushed herself up in the sand in one motion and grabbed her duffel by the strap with her gritty hand, working swiftly to catch up to Garren as fast as she could.

Another bullet from the assailant struck and kicked up the sand near Katelynne's feet. She flinched momentarily before seeing someone move over yonder.

Quinn.

Whether she was fleeing or trying to get a better shot up and going, it didn't matter. Katelynne just needed to get outta there ASAP.

"Thank you!" she shouted at the rifle toter before fleeing after Garren and disappearing back into the woods, just as ((a voice from nowhere droned on)).

((Whatever it was saying fell on deaf ears.))

The gunshots ceased. Using her gun didn’t feel good but it was the only necessary thing to do. Nobody could blame her, they were being shot at. Angie knew she couldn’t used this reasoning for long, but it was the only she had. Whenever it wouldn’t be good anymore, she’d drop it for a new excuse. It was a cycle she knew, and a cycle she handled well.

Angie turned around with her rifle still in her hands, and realized they managed to make it out. She was grateful for that. She didn’t want anything from them, just their safety. Angie sighed, realizing the selfishness of her thoughts. Nobody had died around her so she was capable to maintain her sanity. Angie wished this was easier. The buzzing in her hands wouldn’t leave despite her other senses being filled with new feelings.

The announcements were grim, but her brother was fine, and it was the only thing that mattered. It wasn’t the truth. Heading Ty going around killing people out a toll on her mind, she felt responsible of him for some reason. Perhaps it was the fact they’ve been closed a while ago, or because now he was dead to her for years, but Angie couldn’t know for sure.

She only knew it hurt.

((Angie continued somewhere else.))