Survival Of The Fittest

(Andrea Raymer continued from Make Your Own Kind of Music)

"FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfFUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

Andrea Raymer didn't give a shit that she was throwing a tantrum.

She did not give a STONE COLD FUCKING SHIT at this point. Fuck that whole snarky cynical but totally has it together facade that was going to be ruined if she flipped out now; fuck all the viewers and fankids who she'd been pretending were rooting for her to win this thing and prove what a badass bitch she was; most of all fuck herself because who the hell had she been fooling this whole time, no one gave a shit especially her fucking mother and it was just---

"FUUUUUCK!"

She grabbed Danya's handbook out of the duffel bag and tossed it into the trees. Like it mattered. It wasn't even hers. It was Allen's. Fucking Allen.

Andrea stared at the cheap pamphlet as it fluttered on the ground. OK. Calm the hell down. Or at least try to go through this step by step. That almost certainly wouldn't help, but whatever. It was the sort of thing Doc Mac would tell her to do. Or her father. Before he died. Like an asshole.

OK.

OK. First off, Allen was who the fuck knows where. And that wouldn't be so bad even, if he'd been off doing something useful and they were totally gonna meet back up, or if they'd actually managed to accomplish something in the last few days, or hell, even if he'd gone off and not taken her damn bag with him.

Andrea couldn't even fathom how that'd happened. Somehow, during that whole fuckup with Bounce and Alice and some freak throwing rocks, they'd managed to switch bags. And that meant that Allen had everything. Her clothes. Her journal. All her notes and shit. And oh yeah, her drugs.

She'd been careful. There were enough to keep her going a few days more. But now? Without them she'd been wandering empty and blind for the last 24 hours, and what were the odds that she'd be able to find them again? So yeah, that was second off.

Oh, but it still got better, didn't it? Because third off, her whole fucking plan was increasingly looking to be shot to hell regardless. She'd been trying to follow the terrorists, and she'd lost them, so she had no idea where the generator or power source or magic hatch might be. Actually, scratch that. It just might have fucking been in the tunnels, which was not only the perfect spot to hide it, but which also happened to be right where Liz Polanski had gotten her stupid ass killed, and which was also the first place to be declared a permanent dangerzone. And of course, she'd never gotten around to exploring the tunnels, because hey, there was always time for that later, wasn't there Andrea?

Yup, she was on a fucking roll now, all right.

So was there any good news at the moment? Maybe take a minute and try to think up something. No harm in that.

Andrea took a minute.

Well. At least it can't get any worse.

Oh, hello foreshadowing, how are you doing today?

[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued from Overdose on Adrenaline.]

Up and over. Up and over. It was a daunting obstacle, sure enough, but he'd made his way around and under it so many times, climbing it seemed to be the next logical step. He had all the time in the world, after all. He may as well live it up and enjoy himself, and hiking up and over that mountain would have been enjoyable enough. There were more bodies, sure, but there were bodies everywhere by now. Anywhere he went, it seemed that Death clung to him. It hung in the air like a bad fart and there was no way to get rid of it. In the end, he'd lashed out and caused Death to follow him, filled a void with his own actions and now, looking down at the names on his arm, he remembered exactly what he'd done.

Things were falling apart, and this mountain was far from the biggest obstacle in Alex's way. It was just the newest one.

For a moment, Alex managed to forget about everything that was going on around him. All the death and destruction and pain and misery and sorrow. All of it, just melting away as he lost himself in his hobby reborn, as he made his way up the mountain and around and over it, past all the rocks and the occasional drop off. The trees jutting out from the sides and clinging to what they could, some of them climbing up a short cliff and always, always, making the view that much more amazing. This place really was amazing. Sunrise and sunset, one after the other, over and over again for the past week. He'd witnessed so many beautiful things and so many horrible things, but for just a moment, he forgot about all of it.

Just for a moment.

He hauled himself and pushed himself further, forcing his way past this newest obstacle and conquering it. He may not have been the first, but he would make it his own. This was his mountain. This was his island. He was at home here and he knew it and he loved it. This was his island. This was his game.

This was his home.

And it looked as if he had a guest.

It took a moment, just a moment, to register who it was. He even managed to eek out a smile before he remembered where he was and what he had to do and what she had and what she did to him and that bitch was right in front of him. Fuck her. She was in his home now. She was in his game now. She was encroaching on his territory and the most important of all these little details is that she had something he wanted. Something he needed. Something he was going to take from her whether she liked it or not. By hook or by crook, he thought. He'd made that decision once before, when he was going to give chase. By hook or by crook, and now it seemed he would get his chance.

A strange little grin emerged, and Alex slipped the Shillelagh from his belt. It was a better choice. It was a better weapon. He would make her hurt, and she would give up what he wanted.

He would get what he wanted. He would take what he wanted.

By hook or by crook.

"Hello, Andrea. Miss me?"

"Hey world. Fuck off."

Andrea turned away from the camera and surveyed the area. Where the hell was she, anyway? Ah yes, she was on the mountainside, doing nothing in a place that held no interest to her. Well, that wasn't entirely true, she supposed. She'd wanted to go to the mine, but with it conveniently dangerzoned this was about as close to the tunnels as she was going to get. Maybe she'd get lucky and catch a glimpse of Danya's goons. Or Allen. Or any-fucking-thing. Yeah, that was her whole plan right now. Sit around and hope for something to come along and save her sorry ass.

Andrea grabbed one of Allen's water bottles, considered a second or two, and then drank deeply. What, was she going to try to be considerate and save it on the off chance she'd meet up with him again? Maybe if she just drank something and tried to think she'd be able to figure something out.

Figure anything out.

No, that was the problem, that was the whole fucking problem because she COULDN'T THINK right now. She needed her Rit, her Adderall, she needed her notebook so she could write stuff down. Hell, even a cigarette would be welcome. And now she couldn't focus, she couldn't concentrate, because of one stupid goddamn mistake.

Allen. Allen "B121" Birkman, with his boy scout hobbies and his scruffy teenage beard. How the hell had they even ended up together? Did she just feel sorry for someone who obviously had no idea how to handle this whole demented reality show and couldn't even put up a decent act for the cameras like she could? Ugh. He was totally going to go off and die without her, wasn't he? She could practically hear his name on the next announcements; he was just like any of those nervous, fumbling guys she knew full well she attracted by the dozens, guys like Charlie Beckwith from the coffee shop or... Chad Klitou.

Oh bloody hell, Chad Klitou. That was worth a laugh. Prom night on the banks of the St. Croix River. Where she'd seduced a nervous stoner in her car while I Don't Like Mondays played on the radio. Convinced herself of her own hubris. So what, was Allen supposed to be her next conquest, captured on camera in Survival of the Fittest, no less? Jesus Christ, Andrea. Your dad would sure be proud of that one, what with you playing your 80's revival rock music and imagining he'd be fucking slapping you on the back and Christ calm down calm down calm down your thoughts are going a mile a second because you're practically going through withdrawal right now just DO SOMETHING TO CALM YOURSELF DOWN!

Andrea crumpled into a seated position. She bowed her head. Pressed her fingers to her temple. Get empty. Stop this fucking runaway train she was on right now. Sing or something. Just no more My Chemical Romance.

"The telex machine is kept so clean and it types to a waiting world
And mother feels so shocked
Father's world is rocked
And their thoughts turn to their own little girl..."

"Hello, Andrea. Miss me?"

Her head snapped up. She hadn't imagined that, had she?

"Uhhhhh, hey Alex."

She got up. Her throat was tight. She took a breath, and managed to convince herself again.

"Haven't seen you in a while, so uh..."

It was OK. She was back in control. On a roll.

"How's it been going with you?"

Alex didn't look that great. Of course, it was... day 8 she thought, so that was probably to be expected. Alrighty, stay calm. Think right thoughts. That sounded dumb. And shit. Dude had been on the last announcement, but of course she didn't have her journal so she hadn't been able to write the names down or keep track or anything like that. But he hadn't been some crazy super-killer. She thought.

Keep a distance from him, have a nice chat, go from there. Just like she'd done with Allen. Sure things had gotten tense but she'd defused that, same thing here. Wasn't like she'd been screaming (too much) or crying or anything. And it was still just Alex freaking White. Sure. This was still her game.

"Oh, you know. Wandering the island. Admiring the sights. Killing time..."

For every step she took, Alex took two of his own. Grip tight on the shillelagh, holding it at his side with terrible intent. Not a terrible weapon in any regard, but the smooth, almost polished knob at the end looked as if it would deliver more than a few wicked welts. A speck of blood here or there, a scratch against the lacquered finish, all pointed to the weapon having already been used. Already seen it's fair share of combat and damage. It's fair share of death. It would make her hurt. He would make her hurt, and he would take what he wanted. Everything he wanted.

She would regret crossing him, if she didn't already. The look on her face told him she regretted it plenty already.

Again, Alex stepped forward, watching Andrea, glaring at her. Bloodshot eyes. Bandaged hands and arms, a bruise here and there that could barely be seen under his clothes. He'd been through hell and back on this island, but he still felt as if he were at home. Through hell and back, and he was still comfortable here in the wilderness. Perhaps it was time to help show others what that sort of hell was like.

"I'll give you a choice, right here and now. You can give up what I want, and that'll be that... or you can fight, and I'll make you regret everything."

An ultimatum. Alex delivered it in a manner most cold, pointing the shillelagh at her just to help get his point across.

Another step forward.

"A simple choice. Cooperate or resist."

Another step forward.

"Give me what I want, or I take it."

Those bloodshot eyes...

"Time to choose."

An injured, hungry animal cornering its helpless prey. That grin was more like an animal bearing its fangs than anything else. That fucking grin. He was close now. He could almost taste it. Victory.

Andrea took another step back as Alex continued forward. Oh shit. Ohhhhhh shit. This was not good. Alex didn't look to be in the mood for a nice chat. So what the hell was she supposed to say here, there was no fucking way he would believe that-

"Uh, so yeah Alex I'm really really sorry and I'd totally give my pills to you but I don't have them, OK? They're gone, swear to fucking god, I lost the rest of them like a couple days ago back in the swamp so if you wanna look there for them you can totally feel free, OK? OK?"

Alex did not seem to be OK with that at all.

She took another step back as he came forward. That nice chat sure went swimmingly, Andrea, what now? Just about half a second to decide.

Get the fuck out.

She had to grab Allen's bag and take off. That was it, she could do it, she would absolutely 100% pull this off. Spin around, start running, grab the bag, and get the fuck away from Captain Froot Loops Alex White here. Then get back to the plan, get back to finding a power source, and get back to giving the finger to Danya and Alex White and everybody.

Yeah. Yeah.

"Look, I'm telling you the fucking truth OK, I don't have them and----"

Andrea turned to run.

Oh, but that wasn't good enough. That wasn't anywhere near good enough. And how rude, trying to run away from him like that. He was talking to her and she just decided to run away. How very rude.

"Oh no you don't. Don't you know it's rude to turn your back on someone?"

Alex quickly closed the gap between them and made good use of the shillelagh, sending it into the side of her knee with one good hard swing. He struck her again, and again, on her thigh and her hip, just to make sure she wasn't about to start running anywhere any time soon. He grabbed her by her shirt and forced her to face him.

He grabbed the bag and tore it from her, striking her in the side of the leg once again to make sure she wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't going anywhere now. He could take his time if he wanted. There was no way she would outrun him.

He ripped open the bag in haste, and dumped its contents across the ground. No gunpowder. No pill bottles. Nothing. Little bitch was hiding something from him... or telling the truth. Neither one made Alex happy. He turned his attention back to her, and grabbed her by the shirt. He forced her to look at him.

"You are going to tell me..."

He struck her across the face with the back of his hand.

"What I want to know."

He struck her again, open handed, across the face.

"Or else I'm going to make your life a living hell."

And just to make sure she didn't try anything, with that gunpowder or anything else she may have been hiding on her person, he struck her arm with the shillelagh, a blow that would no doubt leave one hell of a bruise eventually. No amount of quick thinking would save her this time.

"Now you're going to tell me exactly where the fuck they are, got it?"

She was his. And he would take what he wanted.

Andrea should have known that running was a poor choice of action. Maybe she figured that it had worked well enough before? She hadn't exactly been thinking clearly.

Still, she might have had a half-decent chance if she'd hadn't reached down to grab Allen's bag. But she did, and then Alex's shillelagh bounced off her knee, and her whole leg from that point down suddenly stopped working. She fell on her side, not comprehending, started to pick herself up, and then he was on her.

This was wrong.

What the hell was happening? What the hell...

"Alex! Look just stop, OK!"

Oh fuck. He was lifting that thing up again, and any second now he was going to bring it down, she needed to tell him something, tell him anything, just---

A flash of inspiration. Like a bullet. Totally it. Same way she'd handled Allen.

"Alex, Alex fucking wait! Look, I have a fucking plan to get out of here OK if you just get off me we can - AH FUCK!!"

He hit her. Again. Why wasn't he listening? Andrea yelled, tried to grab at him, but he grabbed first, shoved her and she stumbled back down. Her leg buckled under her.

"....-fuck..."

He moved away, leaving her there. She turned herself over, the pain in her leg starting to overcome the adreneline-- oh christ she was actually hurt here- and realized that she couldn't get back to her feet, and he asked her again about the goddamn pills.

"Alex. Listen. I do not---"

He was back in her face now. She screamed at him.

"I DON'T HAVE THEM! YOU--"

Alex slapped her. Hard. She clawed at him, scratching at his smug fucking face; another hit and she fell backward until her head connected with the ground. Now the pain was worse but there was still time, still time but what the fuck was wrong with Alex White, was he fucking retarded, she'd show him, she could still salvage this, look up and tell him in plain English that...

"THEY'RE GONE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! I LOST THEM!"

Then he brought the club down on her arm, and she just screamed.

Not good enough. Not good enough at all. Excuse after excuse. He wasn't going to accept that answer. No way in hell was he going to accept that answer. No, he would make her give up another answer. A better answer. The one he wanted. But how... Ah. That's it. That's perfect. That would work wonderfully. That was it.

Put the fear of god in her.

"That answer isn't good enough, Andrea. Not good enough at all."

Alex cracked his knuckles and adjusted the bandages on them. Andrea wasn't going anywhere, so he could take his time. He put his foot on her leg and dug the tip of his shoe into a sore spot, right where he had struck her with the shillelagh. No use letting her crawl away now.

"You're going to give me the answer I want, girl."

He slipped the sling out of his belt. The pouch of bullets. The Bolas. He took off his backpacks, if only for a moment, to stash his things. He pulled from gun from his belt. William's gun, now his own. He made sure that was well out of reach.

"You're going to tell me what I want to know."

And he started to undo his belt.

"And you're going to tell me right now."

He took his foot off her leg and raised the shillelagh. If she wasn't going to give him the answer he wanted, then she had to keep her mouth shut. He struck her across the face with the shillelagh. Boy, that would leave one hell of a bruise. He could already tell there would be blood from that one.

"Now, start singing."

And his belt came off.

"Start singing that song, little bird."

He pinned her down.

"Or things are going to get ugly."

"Dont... don't have..."

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ, he wasn't going to listen. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was never supposed to get genuinely hurt in this game. It was hers.

Her last outburst had seemed to take all the strength Andrea had left. Now, Alex was just standing over her, grinding his heel into the muscle of her leg. She'd lost her glasses at some point during the attack, and she blinked, trying to think of something to say, there had to be fucking something, after all she was Andrea fucking Raymer. It was just another close call, like with Alex and Nick at the beginning, like with the girls at the church, like with Lucy Ashmore, like with Allen at the lighthouse.

She grabbed at him, tried to pull herself up.

"Alex... Alex fucking please I don't---"

The shillelagh smashed into her face.

White pain exploded around her left eye and flowed across the surface of her skin like a sunburst. Spittle flew from Andrea's lips. Alex had broken her orbital bone in one place, bruised her cheekbone in another, and split the skin above her eye.

She fell back again and he pinned her down, and now she was just stunned, lying bloodied on the ground while he straddled her.

And she realized. No close call. No getting better. Game over, Andrea.

She was more than hurt. She was dying. She was going to fucking die like this.

Instinctively, she tried to speak.

"Allen....."

Coward.

Alex leaned in close. Close enough to hear.

"What's that?"

He put his hand on his ear in a mocking motion for her to speak up.

"Come on now, you have to speak up."

He was mocking her at this point. She wouldn't be talking clearly for a bit, at least until her head cleared up. But it gave him plenty of time to do what he wanted. It was better that she didn't move for this next part. No need to spoil the fun.

"You'll love this, by the way."

Alex gave a sick grin as he held Andrea's head straight, looking down at her as he held her down with the belt in his hand. The shillelagh was nearby. He didn't need it anymore. Not for this, at least. Alex didn't need it for what he was planning. He snapped the belt in front of Andrea's face.

Just to show her what was in store for her.

He worked quickly. He pressed on her neck, and slipped the belt under her collar. He put it through the buckle and pulled it tight. He made sure it wasn't going to slip. But he didn't tug on it. Not yet at least.

"Time to wake up."

He slapped her. Once, twice. Enough to get her attention.

"Time to speak up, Andrea. Because if you don't? I pull."

He showed her the belt.

"Remember the rules?"

Slowly, he pulled it taut.

"One good, hard tug and it's over. Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

Andrea felt Alex's hands on her face again, drawing her out of her daze. The white was fading. Her left eye was blurry, it felt wet, but she could see through her right eye. She could see what he was doing now.

So she sold him out because she didn't want to die.

That was it, really.

Stated as simply as that, it kind of put stuff into perspective. All this, all she'd been trying to do on this fucking island. Just taking what she'd thought was the most likely route to her selfish goal. And now Alex white had come along and sidetracked everything straight to hell.

He pulled the belt around her collar and the words spilled out.

"Alex, wait, just, Allen Birkman has them, OK?!"

Oh goddamnit now she was crying.

"We... we got our bags switched around somehow, I don't fucking know, I was with him and there was this huge mixup or something, Alex I fucking swear to you that's what happened!"

But hey, maybe she wouldn't die.

"We, it was like a day ago on the north side of the mountain, by the forest! I'm sorry I don't fucking have them but he does, OK, Allen does!"

For a moment, Alex smiled. He got what he wanted. He got everything he wanted from her, and maybe a little more. But Alex was finished with her. She was no longer useful to him. He was tempted to pull the collar. End her now and be done with it, and be on his way. But he didn't.

After all... if she was lying, who would tell him where the pills were then?

Alex took the belt off of Andrea's collar, and stood up. He was leaving her alive, for now. She may not be useful to him right now, but she might be useful later. Especially if he needed more questions answered. And who knows, he may come up with some other way she could be useful to him.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Alex went about putting his belt back on, and picked up the shillelagh. There was blood on it. Just a little, but it was fresh.

"You got blood on my weapon, did you know that?"

He wiped it off and flicked his hand at her. It didn't look like she was going to be trying anything anytime soon.

"I'll give Allen your regards when I find him."

He picked up his backpack, and replaced everything in his belt. The sling, the pouch, and the gun. He left the bolas on the backpacks. He put the shillelagh back in it's place, and took the spear off his back. He finally found a use for some of that extra rope. A strap for the spear. Terribly useful, that.

"Do try to stay alive. It won't do me any good to have you die, especially if I have any more pressing demands."

Before he left her there, Alex took a moment to kneel down next to her bag. Or rather, Allen's bag. Something caught his eye among the various little things that scattered across the ground. Two round little somethings.

"And I'll be sure to thank Allen for these as well."

Alex made some room on his belt for those lovely grenades.

"Now, remember. I'll be back if you're lying to me. So I hope, for your sake, that I find Allen. Otherwise, I'll be paying you another visit. And next time? I won't be so nice."

He left her to think about that for a moment. He had better things to do than to hang around Andrea. He had new prey to find.

He had another hunt to start.

[Boy #14 - Alex White. Hunting in Monsters.]

Andrea lay there. She lay there in a helpless mess and bled all over the ground and cried a bit and failed to convince any part of herself that things weren't as bad as they seemed.

She rolled onto her back and even that hurt. Yeah, things were worse. Things were a smoldering ruin right now.

Fucking Alex White.

Her legs hurt. They hurt in what felt like a dozen places, ranging from spots that itched a bit to spots where the pain had buried deep in the flesh, where it sent pulsations to her brain at regular intervals.

Fucking central nervous system.

Her arm hurt. More than that. Her arm felt wrong. She didn't know how to put it other than that. It was a numb hurt. Her fingers were cold.

And her face. Her vision was blurry, and not just because she wasn't wearing her glasses. Her left eye was swelled nearly shut, and what little vision she could get out of it was like looking through murky water. Places around it were broken; she could tell that even without moving. The bones weren't working together quite as they should. Her cheek was a white-hot pain. She tasted blood in her mouth.

So, now that her wretched stock had been fully taken, what now? How's it going to be, Andrea? How was that brilliant plan going, and what's the next step now? She guessed those were the kinds of questions she was supposed to ask herself at times like these.

She looked up at the sky instead. Then down in front of her. Her legs were splayed out, and she'd lost one of her flip-flops again. What, was that supposed to be tragic irony or something?

So how's it going to be, Andrea?

Alright. She'd answer. It'd be the end. It'd be time to give up. Lie down and wait, and sooner or later someone would come along and put her out of her fucking misery already. Either that or Danya would declare the mountain a dangerzone. That'd be a blast. Ho ho ho Andrea, you're so punny.

She thought about her father.

"I know you like to push. But you have to learn how to give, too."

Yeah. That was it. See? She'd still managed to figure it out.

It was time to give. Let Alex go off on his search. He probably wouldn't even find Allen. And if he did, so what? They were all gonna die here, weren't they? Yeah. She'd know that shit all along.

So she would give. Let everyone else sort out their own damn problems for once. After all, before her tete-a-tete with Alex White had taken place, hadn't she been thinking about how Allen was just another lame substitute for Chad Klitou or any of the kinda-dorky guys with unsure self-images she'd attracted in droves?

Yeah. She'd been thinking about Chad Klitou. And Bob freaking Geldof.

------------

(Andrea Raymer and Chad Klitou continued from Stillwater Runs Deep)

"Sweet sixteen
Ain't that peachy keen
Now that ain't so neat to admit defeat
They can see no reasons
Cause there are no reasons
What reasons do you need?"

"Ahh, I fuckin' love this song, it's sooo cheesy and 80's and-- we're here!"

Chad Klitou was looking around, perplexed.

"Uh... where the hell is here again, Andrea?" he asked.

Andrea grinned over at Chad. She'd kept him in the dark, of course. The drive from St. Paul to Stillwater had taken about half an hour, and she'd been content to play music and nimbly dodge all his questions about why exactly she was heading to the Wisconsin border on prom night.

She eased into the darkened clearing off the highway and parked the car. Alrighty, she could tell him.

"WE," she said, "are at the St. Croix Boom Site! Pretty neat name, huh? Boom site?"

Chad just stared blankly at her.

---

The St. Croix Boom Site had, at some point, been a Minnesota National Historic Landmark. In the 1800's, timber companies would use the area along the banks of the St. Croix river to organize the logs that had been cut further upstream and floated down; they would gather, sort and raft them further down the river to be cut. Many years later it had been designated a landmark and turned into a highway rest stop, and many years after that the Minnesota Department of Transportation had run out of money and couldn't bother to maintain it anymore. None of that history was of any particular interest to Andrea, of course, but it remains important as a narrative background.

---

She led Chad down the staircase to the riverside, where the site lay in various stages of decay. It had been abandoned long enough to let nature start retaking the area, but not long enough to do much more than surface damage; it was right in that zone that made her feel like she was stepping into a crappy teen slasher movie. And she could tell that Chad was feeling the same way.

They spent a while sightseeing aimlessly, and later on she was just standing ankle-deep in the river and enjoying the cold night sky while Chad was walking around a crumbling gazebo and enjoying being with a hot chick.

He turned to her, finally.

"Yeah, pretty cool. So uh, why'd you bring me down here? I mean, it's prom night and everything..."

Andrea shrugged. "I dunno. I thought it might make a good spot for you to film something maybe, plus I guessed you'd appreciate the cool creepy aspect of the place, plus yeah it's prom night and I'm probably gonna swing around a party or two later, but what the hell am I gonna do until then? So, uh, enter you."

"Yeah, it uh, I know what you mean," Chad said. "Er...."

Chad was not much of a conversationalist. But Andrea was used to that.

"So what now?" she finished. "Go back to the car I guess, I heard it was supposed to rain out here later and...."

Andrea felt something wet on her face.

"Ah shit."

And as if on cue, the rain started to fall.

---

"Oh FUCKING HELL I am freezing and wet here!"

By the time they made it back up the dilapidated staircase and into Andrea's car she was pretty much soaked, and regretting wearing nothing but a T-shirt. Chad at least had his jacket, which of course he never offered to her. Some gentleman he was.

Still, she couldn't help but laugh as she slammed the door shut and looked over at him trying to wring the water out of his skater boy hair. And he was laughing along, so that was good.

Andrea got the heater going and downed a couple pills, Chad rolled a joint, and soon the two of them were pleasantly warm. She turned the radio back to that old 80's station she'd been listening to since Chad wasn't into the hotness of Ville Vano and Finnish Emo Metal Guys like she was, and oh man, she was feeling good.

"Oh man. I am feeling good!" she said, confirming. "This is, this is so fucking awesome Chad, you seriously should try some Ritalin sometime, I know I said that before, but like in combination with weed especially it's so fucking cool and it's prom night so seriously you wanna try some?"

"Uhhhhh...."

She could see Chad was smiling. Oh yeah. Andrea produced a tiny packet of powder and shook it a couple times.

"C'mon, man. Snort some. Succomb to peer pressure from a hot dealer chick."

Oh, she loved to push, all right.

"Here, lemme sweeten the deal, I gotta get this shirt off anyways and like, let it dry one sec..."

And before Chad knew exactly what she was getting at, Andrea had peeled the T-shirt over her head and was sprawling over in Chad's lap, sprinkling the powder on her stomach. She passed Chad a bill.

"C'mon, before I spill it, this is like seriously uncomfortable!"

Chad rolled the bill and bent over her body, and was Andrea hearing things, or was that radio station playing the same song again?

"Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
I wanna shoot the whole day down
Down
Down
Shoot it all down"

"Ah, I fuckin' love this song!"

And when Chad lifted his head, blinking, she sat up and kissed him, And sure, it took a second cause of the shock and all, but he kissed back.

"And all the playing's stopped in the playground now
She wants to play with her toys awhile

And school's out early
And soon we'll be learning
And the lesson today is how to die"

------------

That was nice. That was nicer than where she was now. But it was all OK, it was all good, it was all just a part of lettin go, wasn't it Andrea? Just a part of learning how to give.

Andrea.

Oh. Great.

Andrea, you really think this is what I meant by giving?

Well, it's what you said, isn't it Dad?

There's a difference between giving and giving up. You know that because I taught you that.

Whatever.

Andrea.

Oh hell. Doc Mac?

Andrea, do I even need to say anything here? You know you're better than this.

No, no she wasn't. She had just been ACTING like she was better than she was. This whole fucking time. How you like them apples, Mac?

Andrea. Don't kid yourself. I know you better than you think. You know you're better than this. You think your whole life was an act?

Yes. And she'd prove it by lying here and dying. That'd show 'em. Har har har.

Andrea.

"WOULD YOU ALL JUST FUCKING SHUT UP AND LET ME DIE!"

Great. This whole thing was just great. Flashbacks, song lyrics, and now she was imagining people who were back home or dead talking to her. What a terrible, cliched death she was experiencing.

Then make it a better one.

Aarrgh. She'd walked right into that one.

Why don't you think about what happened the morning after prom night, Andrea?

Uhhh, because she didn't fucking WANT to think about that, maybe? Besides, she was dying on her terms. Hadn't she said that already? She'd lie here and think pleasant memories, and that'd be a fine death. After all, who cared that she was a fucking failure?

Who cared that Alex was probably going to find Allen and chop him into pieces for some fucking ADD meds?

Who cared that she'd never be the star?

So how's it going to be, Andrea?

How's what going to be?

What? What.

And school's out early
And soon we'll be learning
And the lesson today is how to die

Ah, fuck.

She rolled over again. She began to pick herself up.

She thought about what happened the day after prom night.

Fuck you, mom.

She thought about what had just happened to her.

Fuck you, Alex White.

She got to her feet, looking around. She felt dazed.

Fuck you, Danya.

She was Andrea Raymer. She was G077. This was her game.

This could still be her game.

(Andrea Raymer continued in Can Fall Down)