Survival Of The Fittest

„I only speak English, dude.“

Yeah, his parents spoke a bit of Polish but just because his name was Przemyslaw that didn‘t mean he could speak Polish. Was Shawn able to speak Irish? Przemek supposed he didn‘t. Or maybe he did, that wouldbe impressive. But anyway.

„Okay, Bethany. I‘m tired, I‘ll just uh sleep if I‘m able to“

He stepped forward, carefully looking out for obstacles, looking forward to get some sleep.

Just as well really that Przemek couldn't see the irked expression on Shawn's face, one he was quick to hide as he entered the room Bethany had found for them.

It was... Well, not exactly ideal. Shitty shag carpeting, dust covered desks, signs of vermin... A bit of a far cry to what he was used to, but all things considered it was practically luxurious compared to the labyrinthine pipeline that made up the rest of the facility.

Shawn quickly got to work setting up his own little corner, unzipping his bag and rummaging through its contents. He was careful to avoid revealing the green jacket he'd acquired, last thing he wanted was to make up a story about how it ended up in his possession, instead pulling out the windbreaker he had been assigned along with a small chunk of bread to quickly munch on. He remembered seeing one of those foil emergency blankets when he was sorting through Przemek's medkit, but decided that it probably wouldn't be nessesary. That windbreaker ought to be enough to suffice for a blanket for now.

The fact that he was even having to consider that as an option made him wish that he could get this entire horrorshow over and done with as soon as possible.

"So... Whose on first watch?" he asks, turning to Bethany.

Maybe it was Swedish? What little German Bethany had picked up didn't really line up with a word like kontor, it was close, but wrong somehow. No, kontor had the same sort of cadence to it as fika, which she was certain she knew from IKEA. Appropriate, because if she recalled the meaning correctly, the room revealed itself to be more and more decidedly non-fika the more Beth cast her eyes and her beam of light around it. Definitely not a place she could picture quirky Scandinavians having coffee around a cosy fire. More a squatter camp huddling around a bonfire in a drum barrel like on TV. Half the furnishings looked to have been eaten by something, or to have begun slowly rotting in the intermittent periods where it was even warm enough for microbes to even be active.

A shithole, in short.

But much like Shawn, it she also concluded that it was significantly better than freezing to death out in the main space, which for all intents and purposes might as well have been outside. Having a roof to keep any fresh snow from falling directly on them put it on about the same tier as sleeping in a cave or under a particularly thick woodland canopy. So it'd do.

Speaking of Shawn, he wanted to know who took first watch. It was a difficult call; if she went to sleep first, sure, she still didn't predict Shawn would actually harm her, but he'd be completely at liberty to steal from the two of them and make good his escape while there was still some natural light and warmth left outside. If she waited, the same would still be true, but he'd be running off into the morning, but also with somewhat less of a head start. It pained Bethany to have to think that way, but it was quickly becoming natural for her. Her grip tightened on the handle of her weapon once more, and she pondered.

If she took first, perhaps she could find out for certain if Shawn had a proper weapon of his own?

"You two get comfortable, I'll do it."

Shawn nodded his head. "No complaints here..." he replied, getting up and moving towards the front of the room, grabbing one of the desks and shifting it along to block the door off. It wasn't exactly enough to prevent an axe wielding maniac from hacking their way in, but it'd be enough to at least give them a warning if someone tried to snoop around.

Dusting his hands off after admiring his handiwork, he let out a long yawn before heading back to the little spot he had carved out for himself. As he settled down under his windbreaker blanket, he couldn't help but find himself mulling over similar concerns to Bethany's. Was he really willing to put that much trust into her, even after all the years they had known each other, knowing full well how high the stakes were? Well, truth be told if she was willing to go through so much trouble to keep a blind acquaintance alive, then odds are she was unlikely to turn on a childhood friend so easily.

Still, he made sure to zip his bag up and use it as a makeshift pillow, and keep his hands firmly wrapped around his beer bottle as he drifted off to sleep.

Great minds think alike, after all.

It rapidly dawned on Bethany how dreadfully boring the next few hours were going to be. Slightly less rapidly, how cold. Part of her wanted to unblock the door, go and occupy her mind by wandering the labyrinth of pipework and walkway, keep herself warm by keeping active. But no, not an option. She had a duty to fulfil. Shawn and Przemek had put their faith in her to keep them safe.

In truth, Bethany Lyon didn’t believe she was literally being punished. It was a monumentally self-centred position, on reflection. There was simply no way all hundred-something of her fellow students deserved to be on the island with her, let alone that they were collateral damage for a punishment targeted specifically at her. A merciful God would never. No, this was human evil at its plainest. All that said, the fact that she’d considered it at all was a constant companion in her thoughts, coming to the fore in her quiet moments. It was why she’d taken the risks and pains of escorting Przemyslaw despite everything. She instinctively knew she’d transgressed. The least she could do was make amends in what little ways she could. Put herself in the line for people less fortunate. Be a good Christian.

It was around about the third time that she had nearly drifted off to sleep sat on a desk, only to shake herself back to lucidity, that Beth decided to force some other thoughts than guilt to the fore. Hefting her weapon, she pressed the sharpest point of it into the wall and dragged it down in as clean a vertical line as she could. Then she intersected it with a somewhat messier horizontal. The most makeshift of crosses.

Then she knelt. She prayed for deliverance. That some miracle might whisk the innocent away from the island. Hadn’t a previous attack been interrupted a few days in by a rescue attempt, survivors and their allies shutting down the bomb collars and spiriting non-killers away by boat? It could happen again. It seemed unlikely that contingencies hadn’t been put in place since, but… it could happen. After that she prayed more generally for her companions’ health and safety. For an end to Przemek’s pain. He was a good person, better than her by far. He deserved better. Finally, recalling the famous words of a long-dead President, she prayed by to a stronger person. To be the equal of the life she’d been given.

Beth paced the room again after that, keeping her blood flowing and her muscles warm. She ate some more, drank some more. She tried to recall songs that she had once sung, to recite again in her head. Anything to stay awake and sane. After a while she lifted her pickaxe again, carved her name awkwardly into a different wall than her cross. Proof that she’d been here, that once she’d lived. Who knew how much longer she’d survive? But that mark stood a chance of outlasting her either way. Of bearing witness.

We were here.


Day Two.


Eventually, Beth could take no more. She needed sleep. With no reliable way of knowing how long she’d been at it, she took that as her sign to pass responsibility over to Shawn.

First she assembled a similar sleeping arrangement to his, cramming her weapon into her bag and zipping it just in case, and setting it down with the windbreaker that had been inside as a very makeshift pillow and blanket. Then she moved to wake him. There was something about his posture that gave her pause though.

So she removed his windbreaker-blanket slowly before shining her flashlight down on him. She figured she had only a handful of seconds to satisfy her curiosity before he fully roused from the contact and the light, so she made haste following his hand to where it rested on something bulging in his pocket. Her fingers brushed across it, hard and smooth, cylindrical. Like a bottle? Was that his hidden weapon, this whole time?

But he seemed to be stirring, so Bethany backed up. She’d uncovered him so he wouldn’t have the option of trying to curl back up and stay warm and comfortable, that’d be her excuse. It was sort of true.

“Wake up.” she hissed, hoping not to alert the other sleeper while she was at it. Indeed, it’s job done, she turned off her flashlight again.

“Your turn.”

Shawn stirred from his slumber with a grumble, stretching his arms and grimacing as he reached around to rub his aching back. Oddly enough, a thin layer of old shag carpeting did little to soothe the inherent agony of sleeping on a hard wooden floor.

Still, he was a man of his word. Sometimes, when it was convenient. In in this instance at least he nodded his head and made way for Bethany to have her turn, heading over to the desk to sit himself down. It wasn’t long after Bethany had drifted off that he too found himself quickly growing bored, instinctively reaching for his phone only to be reminded yet again of it’s absence.

Ugh. Christ. How long until morning again?

He looked down at the two sleeping figures under his care, his watchful eye drifting from one to the other. Bethany had opted to sleep on her weapon, keeping it tucked away in her bag. Good idea, would’ve done the same if he had anything worth a damn.

It was hard not to entertain those intrusive thoughts. Would’ve been so easy, after all, two competitors completely at his mercy. Each of whom had plenty of supplies he could plunder, weapons he could put to good use. But then the announcement would come along and ruin everything, and he would be public enemy numero uno. Besides, even if he didn’t have to worry about their referees spilling the beans every morning, the fact that one of the two sleeping figures was an old friend of his…

Shawn sighed, deciding to pass the time by opening his bag and spreading his map out on the desk, nomming away on some bread as he looked it over. He traced his path across the island, from the research station all the way to the mine via the upper pass. He’d walked from one side of the island to the other within a day, which seemed impressive on paper but probably just highlighted how small this island really was. One settlement, an outpost, and 100 desperate students all hoping to go home. Things were going to start getting packed once they started corralling them together, turning locations into dangerzones and limiting their options.

He chomped away on his bread some more as he glanced up at the markings Bethany had made on the wall, forming a crudely scraped crucifix. He couldn’t help but stare intently at the curious sight, not that it was much of a surprise. Bethany was always far more devout than he was, always gleefully talking about her WAP sessions and never shy to quote scripture when appropriate (or inappropriate, for that matter).

Which wasn’t to say he was lacking in faith, far from it. Everything about the world was far too convenient to be random happenstance, to Shawn the notion that the entirety of human existence could be bantered off as a cosmic fart was ludicrous.

That being said, as he grew older and he began to delve deeper into humanity’s long history, his scepticism of organised religion began to grow. He still attended church on Sundays, took part in mass and even joined Bethany in a couple of her WAP meetings. But for Shawn, religion was a fickle mistress, often bending to the whims of politics and prone to over-interpretation. As far as he could tell nobody had any real idea behind the truth of their existence, instead happily pledging their lives to modern translations of ancient texts, written by long dead men who knew nothing of the troubles the future had in store for their descendents.

Besides, even if the church was right all along, he remained confident that their status as victims absolved them all in the end. The way he saw it, any sins they needed to commit in the name of survival went on Danya’s tab.

Those long-winded religious musings managed to keep his mind occupied all the way until the announcement, his brow raised as he listened in. There were a fair few names mentioned, some he recognised, others not so much.

He couldn’t help but let out the briefest of amused snorts at Danya’s joke about Przemek’s eyes, covering his mouth as he glanced back to make sure he didn’t get overheard. He had to hand it to the guy, he knew how to twist the truth in style. Made him wonder how many of those deaths were spun into the worst light possible.

He also had to hide the slight smirk that formed at the mention of Spike’s passing. Good riddance, should have chilled the fuck out like he suggested.

Once it was done, Shawn would sigh and glance back to the others, rubbing his hands and letting out a long yawn. “Well, then... That was something, wasn't it?”

Przemek didn't sleep well, with his eyes hurting, face hurting too and all. He occasionally woke up a couple of times, and he felt like he could offer being a nightwatcher as well, despite being blinded. Just, you know, a night listener. He could wake up the others in case he heard footsteps.

Maybe next night.

He was too tired anyway, so he took advantage of being injured and didn't offer the help, instead doozing off to sleep in and out.

Przemek's reaction to the announcements were not visible in his face. He didn't react. Mostly, because he was overwhelmed by the amount of names listed. It was a shock.

Mallory was dead? The club's president.

Przemek began to silently pray for her, and all the other fallen students.

Sleep came rapidly to Bethany after she lay down, despite the circumstances. The slightest improvement in warmth and comfort seemed to rapidly remind her of the fatigue that consumed both mind and body, and before long she was out like a light.

She dreamed, and dreamed vividly. She saw herself standing atop the mountain, wreathed in the steam of the hot spring. A vague body lay before her, it didn’t occur to her until she awoke how anonymous the corpse was. More importantly, she felt an ethereal but very definite sense of victory. She looked down, saw a pickaxe in her hand, brown with long-dried blood on both ends of the head. She’d killed this person. She’d won.

And it felt good.

Consciousness came back slowly, leaving Beth plenty of lucid memories of what she’d dreamt. In the cold light of day, she was left to reckon with what it meant for her. Was she really willing to kill to live? It was the most natural of instincts, surely, the human animal was a predator before it chose society, found God, civilised itself. But her thoughts were interrupted by an irritatingly chipper voice. Here she was sleeping fully clothed in filth and decay, and her captor had the nerve to be perky.

Still, she reluctantly sat up, listening intently as she replaced her makeshift blanket in her bag and took out her weapon in its place. Names she recognised, sure, but increasingly as she felt nothing specific about their owners, she realised how little she knew these people she knew. Watching Ethan fall had affected her, he’d been a real person in front of her. Hearing the names of people she ought to feel a connection to, read out so matter-of-fact, like some teen boy talking about virtual kills in a video game… she struggled to feel the anguish she knew she was supposed to feel. Once Danya was finished, she whispered a perfunctory prayer for each of them. She’d prayed enough overnight, and her faith that it would change anything was dwindling by the hour.

“Eleven people are dead, Shawn.”

Beth’s retort surprised even her with its venom. She’d just started coming to terms with how little the deaths bothered her, yet her instinct to appear better than that came through almost unbidden.

“And they blame Przemek for Ethan’s death.”

Yeah. Had to accept that one now.

“At least Aracelis didn’t get away with her second attempt. That,”

Cunt, she thought, cutting herself of before she actually said it, and restructuring the sentence on the fly.

“…doesn’t change the fact that we have the Mark of Cain on us now, though. We’ll have to be careful of people not patient enough for explanations.”

With that she stood, using the stout pick to help her off the floor. She paused to tidy her hair, an awkward proposition when one refuses to release their dominant hand. But she had no desire to be caught unready, not knowing that her classmates were bloodthirsty enough to have eight murderers among them. Blessed may well be the peacemakers, but it was equally true that one who wanted peace was obliged to prepare for war.

War had already come, after all.

Failure to prepare now was just suicide.

Beth may not have been the best person still alive on the island, but she knew herself to at least be far from the worst. Maybe she was the best that had the willingness to go the distance, at least? That would explain her numbness to the deaths of her peers, she was simply deferring her grief until it was safe to indulge in it. Because she had to be strong.

Shawn furrowed his brow. "Yeah. I'm aware of that" he replied, perhaps a bit more curtly than intended.

He decided to not bring up the thing about the announcement that bothered him the most, namely that it was only 11 competitors who had bitten it thus far. There were, what, 130 of them on that island? Even if twice that many died every day, it would still take them about a week to reach the end of this nightmare. He wasn't sure if he could stomach the idea of roughing it for that long with no showers or central heating, living off a diet of stale bread and tasteless ration bars.

God, that clam chowder sounds real nice right about now...

Nevertheless, now that he’d had some rest, at some point he would need to address a particular blind elephant in the room. As Bethany rightly pointed out, Przemek was now a marked man. A known killer. It was bad enough that he was completely reliant on them to survive, but now everyone would see him as a threat. He wasn’t just useless, he was an active hindrance that put them all in danger.

That would not do.

However, he was also hesitant to ditch the group so quickly. Or to be more accurate, he was hesitant to ditch Bethany. Unlike Andrew and the others back at the research facility, she was a friend. Someone he could trust, someone reliable. Someone with an actual goddamn weapon. She was one of the few people on that island he actively wanted to have as an ally, which made it doubly annoying that she seemed determined to drag that dead weight around with them.

Well… Perhaps with a bit of persuading, she could be convinced to listen to reason…

“So… What now?”

Przemek tried not listening into the conversation of Bethany and Shawn as he continued to pray. But he couldn’t stop himself listening to the last question.

What now?

“We have to stop Aracelis. Stop Kitty. They‘re hurting people. We cannot tolerate that.“

Bethany made no effort to disguise her displeasure, glaring at Shawn even as she silently pondered his follow-up question. They were supposed to be good people, better people than the godless degenerates and self-centred liberals they were surrounded with, the ones that had so readily turned to violence when the protections of civilisation were taken away. So why didn't she feel anything for those that had died? Why didn't Shawn seem to? How dare he?

And more importantly, what now indeed?

It came as something of a surprise to hear Przemeslaw speak up first. He was right, of course, which Bethany hated. Because it meant she had to be the first to oppose the idea, rather than bring it up herself and then mull over the obvious problems.

"Much as I would very much like to, and that the only justice we'll have on this island will come from us," she began, still keeping her focus on Shawn.

"They are dangerous, and we are not. We've one weapon between us, one of us is blind, and better yet, we don't know where either of them are."

Having finally coaxed those last few stray hairs under her hairband, Beth proposed her own idea.

"We need somewhere better to stay than here. Somewhere safer for you to be. I'd like to say we should find friends, too, but I'm cautious to trust anyone any more. Enough names in that list surprised me..."

She trailed off. Her meaning, she assumed, would be clear enough. Shawn's arrival had been a Godsend, but even Beth's decision to have faith in him had been at least as much out of desparation as from genuine trust.

"We should head for the town. A house would be more defensible."

Shawn let out a sigh of relief when Bethany shot down the suggestion of going after other known killers. He couldn’t think of a worse idea at this point, especially since it was players like Aracelis, Graves and Cresner who were doing all the hard work for them. He was well aware that they would have to contend with them at some point or another, but he was happy to kick that can further down the road. Wait until they were tired and worn down, sporting various injuries and too fatigued to continue.

And he'd be right there at the sidelines, watching silently, waiting until their back was turned...

He nodded his head in agreement. “Other than Matt and Corbs, I don’t have much faith in the rest of our classmates… Seems a lot of folk are a little too eager about the whole murder island thing."

Was that hypocritical of him? Well, not like it was an outright lie, strictly speaking.

“Much as I’d prefer a bed over shag carpeting, I suspect we're not the only ones with the same idea. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if there ends up being a lot of blood spilt over those houses, especially once people start getting desperate for shelter” he says, adjusting his glasses. “I noticed a couple other buildings near the mine on my way over, but dunno if they’re in any better state than this one.”

Well, so what? They were unarmed, but they were three! Przem doubted Kitty would have a single ally! After all, who‘d want to hang out with a murderer?

Oh, right. Shawn and Bethany do.

Anyway, concerning the subject of moving to the town, he hoped he wouldn’t need to wander again. If they could stay here, that would be better.

He kept silent not knowing what to add to the discussion.

"Better than sitting on our hands here, waiting for someone to come to us." Beth answered, already moving towards the door to drag the desk clear.

"I doubt anyone else will be particularly coordinated, or at least if they're working together they probably aren't looking to kill anyone, so somewhere with more than one exit would be better already."

She gestured towards the other side of the desk with a tilt of her head.

"Want to help me with this?"

[Bethany Lyon continues at a personal Fissure.]

Shawn shrugged, before moving over to help Bethany with that desk. "Perhaps, assuming of course we don't end up with anyone working together to thin out the competition..."

Hmm... Now there's an idea. Note to self...

He slowly dragged the desk back, wiping his brow before turning to Przemek. After a momentary pause, he sighs to himself and heads on over, helping the guy up after making sure all their bags were packed and accounted for.

"C'mon now, lets get you somewhere nice and safe..."

((Shawn Bellamy continued in Fissure))