Survival Of The Fittest

'Stop. That's not right. You made a mistake, a big fucking mistake that made a bad situation worse. And that's the whole thing here, isn't it? This whole trip is a bad fucking situation and it's all down to people making those sorts of mistakes to cut the population down to one before the government can find this place. Your parents might know exactly how to cut people apart—mine do too—but that doesn't make us qualified surgeons. It's all on you for giving yourself the authority to attempt something so audacious, and frankly out of all of us, Kitty might not be the best judge of what's OK right now. And if you ever find me crying on the cold, hard ground, don't come up and cut my fucking arm off.'

That's what Kelsey didn't say. Neither was she gutted like a fish by her adulating companion, or left to prosecute of war of words in which she'd fired the opening salvo. She didn't storm off in a huff with her axe and her life, if she were lucky, but remained sitting meekly, emoting her uncertainty with wide eyes in the dim light above the blank grin of her mask.

"Just... be careful," she said in her low, halting way, backed by a generous helping of vocal fry rather than the confidence of indignity. "There are a lot of ways we can make each others' lives worse here. But, there are a lot of ways we can make things better, too." She traced an idle pattern across Kitty's back with a gentle fingertip.

Her stomach growled in complaint at seeing Dawn actually downing her crackers, and she hoped neither of them heard.

"So, what was it you're thinking about?"

Katelyn heard the gentle rumbling of Kelsey's stomach as she laid on her companion's lap. Without wasting a second, she shifted, reaching down into her bag and pulling an unopened and uneaten loaf of bread out. She raised it to show Kelsey, then placed it on the other side of her friend's legs.

"Not to i-interrupt, but," she muttered, only half awake. "Please take that. I have pl-plenty."

Then she didn't say anything else, instead snuggling into Kelsey's lap, eyes half-lidded, barely clinging to consciousness. The exhaustion from the last few days had hit her all at once in a wave, as though a tsunami of tiredness had been building and building and only now swept over the shore. She wasn't in a safe place, even if she was in good company, and she knew that she needed to stay awake, find a better place to sleep, hidden out of sight.

Yet, she couldn't bring herself to move, warm and comfortable as she was. Try as she might to keep them open, eventually her eyes drifted closed. Soon afterwards, she would end up falling asleep, but before then, she had one last sentiment to share, barely lucid and on her way to dreamland.

"Thank you, Kelsey," she mumbled. "You're my friend, and I love you."

That night, she dreamed of home, and her dearest Mr. Kitty.

Before Dawn could extrapolate, Kitty fell asleep.

Dawn didn't blame her. It was late, and everyone was stressed. She herself felt tired from walking around. And the stuff that happened beforehand.

But one person remained to hear her answer.

It was hard to come up with the right wording. Dawn knew that once she spoke it out, she would see it to the bitter end. She knew she was this kind of person.

"I think that I want to do something unintended by the terrorists while I am here. Something that isn't related to dying or killing."

This time her smile was 100% genuine.

"I want to build a memorial for everyone who died - and is going to die - on this island."

Kelsey watched Kitty snuggle in and relax. True to her name, she was not only diminutive and fickle and affectionate but apparently possessed the ability to drop right off to sleep at a moment's notice. Out like a light. In the silences between her voice and Dawn's, she was almost surprised not to hear any purring.

And then there was her offering. Made things a bit awkward, for sure, and would be heavy in her stomach and thick on the next morning's breath. But it would add sorely-lacking strength to her limbs and peace to her mind. Meager as her rations were, and miserable as she knew that half-measure would make her, she was probably only a day or so from collapse if she kept up her particular solution to avoid the hunger. And frankly, as much as she believed Kitty's declaration that she was a friend and that friends were safe, she didn't much like the idea of not being at her physical best, such as she could, in such close proximity to her.

Her stomach growled again. She didn't think she'd ever caught the smell of regular old storebought bread an arm's length away before.

So she unhooked her mask as Dawn elaborated and grabbed a slice, balled it up, took one bite and then another and blinked and found half the loaf gone before she even realized. A bit sheepishly, she looked at Dawn's own rations that she'd so graciously offered, and which Kelsey had refused.

"Sorry, I do trust you, I just... didn't want to be a burden. And I think keeping her happy might be a safe move." She looked down at the sleeping girl, face blank with relaxation. Felt a little stab of envy—oh, to be the one burrowing into a cute girl's thighs—and a wave of reminiscence. Her little drawing back in the tunnels. Compositions spun through her mind, how she might sketch out disheveled locks and dried rusting splatters, filtered and downscaled in her mind's eye to account for the meager tools available.

She looked back to Dawn. "I'd like to be remembered," was the first thing that spilled out. She considered for a second and continued. "I tried sketching a bit, something maybe someone can, you know... find later, but they took all my good stuff. Can't have shit in, uh, wherever it is we are."

She shrugged and chewed her lip, visible as a rarity without the stylized grin she presented to the world hanging from one ear. "Anyway, what kind of memorial were you thinking?"

---

Drowsiness came over her, too, as they conversed. Time passed, and she listened and nodded, each blink relinquishing her eyelids with greater reluctance. Finally, with a yawn, she signaled her intent and dug the emergency blanket out of her bag.

She cast about the room for somewhere open and vaguely soft to lay, but that was a question she knew she didn't even have to ask. Memories of her last lonely night came racing back, and Kitty seemed to appreciate the warmth of companionship too. So she peeled off her parka and balled it up and slipped it under Kitty's head as she slipped her own legs out from beneath like Indiana Jones replacing that sacred idol or whatever. Then she slipped off her boots and lay down beside her, throwing the blanket over them both. The space was a bit tight, but with them both laying on their side, Kitty's back nestled against Kelsey's front, they'd probably be fine so long as neither of them had a thrashing nightmare. She lay her own head on the makeshift pillow she'd provided and draped her arm over Kitty's stomach and closed her eyes. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it was warm, and it certainly wasn't lonely.

She wouldn't have minded staying awake a bit longer, but she fell quickly and deeply into the first comfortable slumber she'd had since arriving.

---

Morning found them still nestled tight against each other. Kelsey woke and wished she hadn't, let her eyes fall back shut but knew that sleep had fled and wouldn't be back any time soon. Perhaps it was an unconscious keying into the sound of the intercoms coming reluctantly to life, or maybe it was a trick of her internal clock's impeccable timing; either way, it wasn't long before that horrid mocking voice barged into their safe haven, listing off familiar names in unthinking situations. She raised her head and looked about the room and listened.

Katelyn jarred awake at the blare of the announcement, tumbling off the side of the bench and onto the floor, taking Kelsey's emergency blanket with her. Groggy and still slightly sore from the day before, Katelyn didn't move from where she landed, opting instead to remain on the floor, eyes only half open. Down here was a better resting place than she actually deserved.

The announcements rolled by much the same as the previous. She listened to them, waiting to hear her name read out and feel the small flash of shame that came with it. Each time, the shame got a little smaller. This time, when she listened, and heard her name read out for both Eden and Taylor, she only flinched a little bit.

When the customary reading of names came to an end, she began to mentally check out, disinterested now that she was sure none of her friends had died. Instead of listening, she began to ponder her plan for the day, and hoped that Kelsey wouldn't mention the elephant in the room of her most recent double homicide.

That was, until she heard her name read out again, and she bolted upright.

They had a prize for her.

Just like that, her circumstances were completely different. She would be a fool to turn down the Best Kill Award, after all, she knew from watching the footage that those prizes were almost exclusively a high-power weapon, and more importantly, a good meal. It would likely be the last good meal of her life. She'd even be able to enjoy it in a place where, until they kicked her out, nobody would be able to hurt her.

All the more inviting still was the fact that she wasn't the only person who just heard that. Her friends would too, and if any of them still wanted to see her, all they would have to do is head to the bar as well. Of course, that also meant that if someone wanted to kill her, they could also head there to try to intercept her. She wasn't so worried about that possibility, however. If anyone threatened her, then she would kill them.

The only problem, one that slowly dawned on her as she glanced towards her friend, was that she'd need to leave Kelsey behind. Not because Kelsey couldn't come with her, but because her friend wouldn't be able to keep up. Katelyn was a prolific hiker, and the only one she knew of that could compete with Kai, who basically lived outdoors. She would have to slow down to accommodate Kelsey, and that wouldn't do; she needed to her prize as soon as possible. Not only would that head off potential trouble, but it would make sure that none of her friends arrived sooner than her, only to leave before she got there.

As much as she liked Kelsey, and as hard a decision it was to make, she had to go, now. At least she had gotten to see Kelsey one last time, something she couldn't say for Kai or any of her other friends. They deserved to see her too. Plus, this didn't have to be goodbye forever, Kelsey could catch back up!

Springing to her feet, Katelyn hurriedly gathered up her various blades and belongings. Without wasting a second, she headed towards the exit.

"I g-gotta go," Katelyn stammered to Kelsey, "but we can m-meet back up in town, if you want! Near the b-bar they mentioned, I'll be there, o- okay?"

((Without waiting for a reply, she waved goodbye to both Kelsey and Dawn, and rushed out.))

"Anyway, what kind of memorial were you thinking?"

A very good question.

Dawn had come up with the idea only about half a minute ago, so the details were vague. But there was on outline.

"I thought about something small, situated in the woods. You know those small shrines called kamidanas that japanese people have in their houses? I plan to go in this direction. Just a lot more colorful. And with a fire, so it can double as a fireplace and others can find it more easily. And in addition to that..."

Kitty was already asleep when Dawn begun her explanation, and it didn't take long until the other two girls went to whatever passed as a bed in this place as well.

---

Except that Dawn could barely close an eye.

The whole night, she stared upon the ceiling of the gym, imaging the sky above. The cold air. The wind. The clouds. The stars. And her plan. Again and again the same worries drifted through her mind. The same hopes. The same fears.

The same conclusions.

---

And then the announcement came.

Dawn had believed herself to be ready for it, and yet she flinched when Tenshi's name was called, quickly followed by her own. That was it. Everyone now knew about her actions. No matter what else she did on this island, the mark of a killer would never leave her.

It took her a moment to realize something weird. The day before, Dawn had critizised Danya for making it sound as if FItz shooting Tully was on purpose. Now Danya did the same to her. But she didn't feel wronged. Maybe it was the guilt telling her she deserved it. Maybe it was herself overthinking her own emotions.

It turned out that Kitty had killed as well, and she even got an award for it. Dawn, weirdly awake for someone with zero sleep, managed to respond to Kitty's exit with a wave of her own and a hasty "Be careful!"

Then it was only Kelsey and her.

"... What are going to do now?"

It was a question Dawn hadn't even meant to ask before it slipped through her lips.

"Go after her, I guess," Kelsey said groggily. Haltingly, as was ever her habit, even when taking it upon herself to take action in steering their fast-approaching fates, in casting the die with death carved into its faces. "I mean, that's the obvious thing to me, but I don't want to speak for you. Maybe it's wrong for me, too."

She sighed. The shadow of Kitty's warmth was casting a darkness over her already. Goosebumps ran along arms searching for something—someone—solid to grasp, cling to, moor herself to reality and her old life through.

"Just, what's going to happen? She's gonna get a gun, or a rocket launcher, or what the fuck ever, and people are gonna get hurt. It seems like the Right Thing To Do to try to stop that," she continued, chiseling the emphasis into the air, "but, like... how do you even do that? She won't hurt me, but other people might. Maybe I don't even ever find her in the first place. It's all just fucking maybes."

The problem with making choices was that you could make the wrong one, and not only would bad things happen, but it would all be your fault.

"I don't mind just staying here a bit, or... whatever else,"' she concluded lamely, and leaned out over the floor, stretched her arm enough to snag a corner of the discarded blanket between two fingers and reel it in. She rolled onto her back, sank her head back into her makeshift pillow and threw the blanket over herself in haphazard crumpled folds. It was notably devoid of life and vigor, of breathing and heartbeat and gentle squirming mass.

She didn't know enough to say what was Definitely Correct, but she did have an inkling that this particular mode of inaction was Probably Wrong. At least, for all her posturing, her fantasizing, her pretending such things translated to the real world... the heroes that paraded through her mind from their origins on pages and screens and from her own stylus, there was a common thread among them. 'Does our hero ever sleep?' people would ask. 'How can they be so dogged, so relentless in righting wrongs? What gives them such bottomless anima?' If she wanted to proclaim with a sad, knowing smile that Justice meant saving everyone and go fourteen rounds with the encroaching despair of humanity's darkest nature, this wasn't really how you started that off.

Well, it wasn't her fault she'd missed her Sleepy Bitch Disease vaccine.

She lay back and sighed again and stared at the ceiling, texting "heyyy" to that peaceful slumber she knew was taking some time off to reevaluate their relationship and explore its other options before being ready for commitment again.

"Warm for once, and I slept through most of it," she grumbled.

In response to Kelsey's non-commiting answer, Dawn nodded with a delay of about seven seconds.

"I think since we can't know what the day will bring, either option is equally fine." For you, at least. "I will go and start looking for supplies to build the memorial. Until now I have only stuck to the research station, so there are many places left to check.

"...

"... Thanks for letting me stay the night. It was not something that should be taken for granted, but you did it anyways."

A few more sentences hung in the air, but Dawn swallowed them down.

She didn't try to convince Kelsey to join her.

She didn't ask if Kelsey had seen any of her friends.

She didn't tell Kelsey that Kitty wasn't at fault because none of them were.

She just slowly grabbed her stuff and started leaving.

"Take care. Both of you."

The uncaring coldness of the day greeted her with unnerving expectations once Dawn stepped outside. She took a moment to breath in and out to get a feel for the air.

Still the same air as one the first day. Only that while she was breathing, Cedar wasn't. Tully wasn't. Tenshi wasn't. Mildred wasn't.

Another breath, and she was on her way once more. This time with a little more purpose.

((Dawn Montogomery continued elsewhere))

And just like that, she was alone again.

Kelsey closed her eyes and tried to settle back into her wadded parka, but it was no use. She knew that before she tried. Gone was the relative safety and security of that night and previous evening, the active tension of things tiptoed around while pretending not to. In its place, nothing. Just, nothing. Silence. Stillness. Thoughts she couldn't share. The accumulated dregs of all the things she hadn't said. The knowledge that, should some unsavory character come knocking, she didn't have two extra sets of eyes and ears.

She threw off the blanket and sat up. The empty air mantled her, the frigid floor bleeding through her socks. Dawn had left without even giving her a chance to make a suggestion on how they might keep warm. Kelsey liked the girl's idea well enough, she really did. Had no problem with her, barring the whole directly causing someone's death thing, which recent events had shown was a bit less of a hangup than she would have thought prior. She should have made excellent company. Someone to talk to, someone to share purpose with, someone to improve her odds. But...

But what?

Wasn't that just the fucking question. Facing down a glistening spearpoint with an axe. Snuggling up with a murderer. Letting safety and companionship waltz right out there door. The island was changing her, cliche as that sounded. Like a line she'd come up with only to have her brother or some other collaborator steer her gently away from it and back toward her sketchbook. It was true, though. She only wished she knew what it was changing her into. Other people had their transformations, blatant as the risen sun. Monsters, murderers, heroes. Corpses. She was none of those, just yet.

If only she had someone to talk that through with, she thought as she fastened her mask across her face again and sighed through it.

The one thing she was sure of was that her destiny lay somewhere else. She slipped her boots back on and gathered up her sparse belongings and journeyed out into the cold unknown.

((Kelsey Brewer continued in Inverted Hostility))