Survival Of The Fittest

Layla's arm had been caught by Colin's arm. She used her other hand, trying to slap him in the face.

Almost as soon as he felt his hand clamp down on Layla’s arm, Colin felt a sharp sting in the side of his face as the girl’s open hand connected with his cheek, eliciting a hiss from him.

“Bitch!”

The strike left him stunned for a moment, but only so long and his grip remained firm. The girl would be off-balance, so now for the next step.

In one motion, he thrusted his free hand down at the shoulder that he held in place as he swung his leg out to sweep the girl’s legs. He was going to drive this fucker right into the ground.

And she did. She lost balance and came to the ground.

She still had the swordbreaker in hand and decided to slowly crawl back.

After successfully pulling off the maneuver, Colin suppressed a smirk. He still fucking had it, even here. The job wasn’t done. Not freakin yet.

Soon after the girl hit the ground, she tried to get some footing, to crawl. He wasn’t about to let that shit slide. He’d never released his grip on Layla’s arm.

“Are you good? Are you fucking good?!” He growled “Here’s what’s gonna happen: You’re gonna drop that fucking knife or I’m gonna break this fucking arm, got it?!”

He stepped closer and began to twist her arm, slowly lowering his knee toward her back.

The arm. It hurt. She dropped the swordbreaker.

“Smart fucking move there.”

Colin reaches over to pick up the knife with his free hand, never letting his grip on Layla’s arm drop, his knee pressing down on the center of her back.

After getting a firm grip on the weapon, he pointed it at the area under the girl’s arm, thinking he recalled someone saying that was a vulnerable area or something.

“So, here’s our next step: I’m gonna let go of your arm, and then you’re gonna run the fuck away as far and as fucking fast as you can.”

Colin realized then that he was squeezing the girl’s arm and the knife quite hard. Was it nerves? Adrenaline? Fuck if he knew.

“And if I see even a little fucking hint you’re gonna turn on me I will fucking cut you the fuck open, okay?”

He slowly released his grip on the girl’s arm and rose off of her back. When he finally reached a standing position, he threw a kick aimed right at Layla’s ribs.

“Now get the fuck out!”

Layla perceived Colin to become less threatening and more pathetic when he threatened her in an overly angry way, which made her decide to kick back.

The kick didn’t hurt, not really. Layla wasn’t in a position to get much force behind the strike before her foot connected with Colin’s shin. However, her display of arrogance was enough to really piss the boy off.

He was going to let her live pretty much unscathed after she attacked him and she had the fucking gall to spit it back in his face.

In a hot rage, Colin threw the knife at her, aiming for her gut.

“Then fucking choke on it, bitch!”

The knife landed. Layla quickyl reacted, grabbed it and ran away.

Close call.

[[Layla continued elsewhere]]

The throw missed, leaving the knife to clatter onto the ground. Colin stepped forward to pick it up again, but Layla moved quicker, and just like that she was already gone.

“God fucking damn!” Colin shouted as he started after her, only to stop a few steps in. A weak idiot like her wasn’t worth it.

“You’re fucking welcome! You know, for not killing you and shit!” He called after the girl’s retreating form as she vanished into the trees.

Scuffing his boots on the ground Colin moved to take a seat near the edge of the cliff, staring out at the sea. Where were they all right now anyway? Somewhere hot as shit, obviously, but how many fucking remote islands were there for the Anthro Terrorists to drop a bunch of high school kids on, anyway?

Was there any chance of a rescue?

---

Colin wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, thoughts a thousand miles away, back in Chattanooga. What he was sure of was that he was sweating like a pig in his fucking jacket. Without much thought, he slipped out of the thing and tossed it aside. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

He finally rose back up to his feet and gathered his bags. He still needed a weapon, which meant it was time to start tracking down somebody. He started trying to piece out who among the killers might be the best mark.

With that in his mind, he wandered off.

((Colin McCabe continued in The Definition of Insanity))