Survival Of The Fittest

(Imraan Al-Hariq continued from Wants and Needs)

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Imraan wished he'd brought along a bible. It might have helped. But of course, he was never one of those "carry a bible around" sort of Christian. All he had was a day planner with some supposedly inspirational quotes, and he didn't feel like those cliched sentences were profound enough given the situation. So he just had his memory to fall back on, and since it wasn't like he had the whole Bible memorized, he was stuck with the most famous passages for now.

"Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted."

He was at a place of mourning, all right. This was a place of death. There were bloodstains on the ground, leading to the cliff's edge along a trail of trampled grass. It wouldn't have taken David Caruso long to figure out what had happened here. Imraan wondered who the victim had been, but looking over the edge only afforded him a view of the rocky seas and a sudden sense of vertigo. Had they been someone from the last announcement, or had this happened today? The blood looked pretty fresh to Imraan, but what did he know? He was no David Caruso, and this wasn't CSI: Murder Island. The sea could have told him, but it just stared back indifferently. The sea wasn't talking.

He crouched down at the edge of the cliff and whispered a prayer for whoever was lying beneath the waves below, but the words felt phony on his lips, given that he didn't know who he was praying for. Imraan said it anyway. If nothing else, maybe it'd make him feel better. Help him figure out where to go from here.

"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."

The earth, maybe. This island? No way.

He hoped that Edward Belmont was making out OK. Edward had turned back to the other kids at the truck on the road, and Imraan had hoped to meet him going southward, but in that freaking forest of stumps he'd gotten turned around and ended up going in the wrong direction. And he hadn't even figured that out until it was nearly night, and by then any hope of finding Edward or anyone else who was thinking clearly out of the group was long gone.

So he'd spent an uncomfortable night in one of few clusters of trees still standing in the area, dozing on and off and being woken up, coughing and shivering, by the morning announcements.

And after they were through, he was briefly glad that he wasn't around Edward or anybody else.

"Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied."

The class had given in, all right. Nineteen deaths.

Dallas Reynolds. Chris Davidson. Reika Ishida. Brent Shanahan. NINETEEN DEATHS.

Clio. GODSpeed member. A killer twice over.

Rob. Rob Jenkins had killed someone. Paige Strand, of all people. Had to be a mistake, or an accident, or someone. Rob had his temper, but he was not a murderer. And that son of a bitch had called Rob a Nazi. He was NOT a goddamn Nazi.

And Tony Russo was dead. The Bayview Senior Basketball team was officially done.

After he'd heard the announcement, Imraan had sat there for who knows how long, trying to control himself. His hands clenched and unclenched themselves, and finally he'd just grabbed a nearby stick and beaten it against the trees, cursing, throwing a tantrum and not caring one bit.

He'd hungered and thirsted for righteousness, all right. But he wanted more than just righteousness. After hearing the announcement, he wanted revenge.

What was the next one, again? Oh, right.

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall see mercy."

Merciful. Mercy.

Those revenge thoughts were all natural, of course. Heck, they were more than natural, they were expected. Just as long as he stayed in control, just as long as he remembered stuff like that, he'd be fine.

Imraan had told himself that over and over again as he arrived at the most northern part of the island, and now, remembering the bloodstains on the ground and the body at the bottom of the cliffs, he repeated it again for good measure. He had a job to do here, several jobs to do actually, and he needed to do them to the best of his ability. He needed to do the right things. That meant following through on his idea to get a signal out, and then find as many people as he could. Not think about revenge. Not lose his cool.

He had chosen his path. He had CHOSEN his path, and he would stay on it. And as long as he did that, he would do well. No matter what happened at the end.

"Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God."

Before he started with the logs, Imraan searched through his pack and found a black marker. He uncapped it and drew two crosses, on on the back of each hand. Just as a reminder. Then he turned back to the edge of the forest and grabbed a suitable log, dragging it into the clearing.

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God."

The work would be slow, but he'd get it done. It might lead to nothing. After all, making a big SOS sign out of logs and hoping for rescue might not be the most proactive plan out there, but it was all he could think of. And it was better than nothing. Even if no planes came by, even if no one saw it, it was a sign that he had NOT given in, that he would not give in to his baser instincts. He would make this thing, with or without help, and then he'd move again, trying to find people. Who knows, maybe Edward had managed to keep that group together and was getting a signal out right at this moment? Imraan would look for him, just like he'd look for the rest of GODSpeed, and the team, and Kaitlin, and his other classmates. And Jessie.

"Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

And Rob. And even Clio. He would NOT fail them. Even if they had given in. Even if they had killed, he would keep his faith, he would NOT stoop to that level, even if it meant his death.

He dropped the first log, then went back and grabbed a second one, glad to have something to do, to put his energy towards something other than smashing the heck out of trucks and trees. The anger was natural. The anger was expected. He just needed to keep himself together.

((Cody Jenkins continued from The Only Way Is Up))

"They won't come, you know."

Cody stood appraisingly, perhaps a bit insolently, trying to break the news in a manner that didn't earn him a punch in the face - or would earn him one if he weren't draping a fire axe in a dangerously nonchalant manner over his shoulder. But the message wouldn't spread itself. A message that perhaps brought not hope, but peace. There is a freedom, they say, in being completely screwed, because you know things can't get any worse. Cody Jenkins had done a lot of thinking, abnormally much even for him. And if that knowledge could help someone out, so much the better.

The truth will set you free.

"Spelling out SOS, or even SU (as the logs currently read) won't make them come. Because they're the ones who put us here in the first place."

It was something people didn't take to easily. The truth hurts, as they say. And sometimes things got nasty. He wasn't argumentative by nature, but to make people see, show them how the government was covering everything up, even covering everything up by not covering it up because that's what they needed to accomplish, he needed to stand up to criticism. But Imraan was a member of GODSpeed, maybe he would be prepared already to accept his fate.

Part of him wanted to grasp at straws, to try to escape it all. And that was natural, of course. He didn't want to die, not by a long shot. But sometimes you needed to do things you didn't want to do. All the same, maybe he could put out the olive branch, try to foster meaningful discourse, let that hopeful survivalist have one last laugh...

"Look, I know you probably don't want to hear it, but I think people need to know. Heck, I'll help you move the logs if you want, but the government isn't coming to get us."

But a man can dream, no?

((Janet Claymont continued from The Right Thing...))

Janet's mood had turned negative in all ways possible after she left the Gazebo. During her trek across the island, she figured out why the hell she was actually here, and what this was all about. She spent a good part of her day cursing herself for being so naive that she almost went a full day without realizing that she was in a total war zone! This anger turned to curiosity mixed with dread when the announcement had come on the loudspeakers. Nineteen of her classmates were dead. "No way..." thought Janet. In the amount of time it had taken her to even get her bearings and figure out what was even going on, nineteen people had been killed! Fear set in as the names were listed off, but she was relieved to hear that Chadd was not on that list of the dead. She desperately hoped that he was okay.

After that, Janet just kept moving forward, not wanting to stop for any reason. She didn't even stop to check what was in her pack, marked G011, that had been placed near her when she woke up. She really had no idea what it was for, but she continued to carry it anyway.

When she finally hit her physical limit, Janet reached the northern cliffs. Slowly treading along, she saw two people in the distance. Upon approaching, she began to overhear what they were saying.

"Spelling out SOS, or even SU won't make them come. Because they're the ones who put us here in the first place." She heard one of them say, but what what did he mean by that? Who were "they"?

"Look, I know you probably don't want to hear it, but I think people need to know. Heck, I'll help you move the logs if you want, but the government isn't coming to get us."

The government? They had something to do with this? Now Janet really needed to know. She decided to ask the two of them. She stepped closer to where the two of them were, and spoke to make herself known.

"Wait, what do you mean? Are you saying that the government has something to do with this?"

(David Meramac continued from Bump in the Night)

David Meramac did not stop to rest; he collapsed.

He had run, barely stopping to drink water; he had run until his vision had gone hazy around the edges, until he had slowed from a trot to a jog, from a jog to a walk, and from a walk to a crawl. He had kept moving, one foot in front o the other, lips trembling, eyes burning. People were fighting and dying--as he'd passed near the church, he'd heard an explosion, he'd heard yelling elsewhere, heard gunshots.

He was trying very hard not to think, but Alan Rickhall kept coming to him; mad Rickhall, babbling that he would pray for David.

Finally, late into the night, David's muscles gave out on him. Finally, late into the night, David collapsed against a convenient tree with no thought to his own safety and plunged into merciful oblivion--an oblivion that lasted right up until 6 a.m.

He had decided that he would never ever forget the voice of Danya--that it had become impossible. The sight of blood flying from teachers he'd known for four years had been emblazoned in his mind; Danya and killing had become permanently intertwined in his mind.

"Kids, I have to say that I'm truly impressed with your first day showing."

The names came, one after another--names of murderers and their victims, names of those who'd died by their own hand and those who'd died for their own carelessness.

Deaths. Nineteen deaths.

David rose shakily to his feet, staggering away as Danya spoke, trying not think. He couldn't believe that names he recognized--peopled he knew--were no longer counted among the living. His schoolmates. People who he'd seen, knowingly or unknowingly, for years.

It was a tremendous effort to move; his legs burned, as did his throat, and without thinking he reached into his bag and pulled a long swig of water. The dull throbbing echoes of his foolish exertions chained him in place, stopped him from running farther.

He didn't want to die. And he especially didn't want to think about dying.

The Announcements fell silent, and dawn began to break. He went a little farther, focusing on his pain and trying not to think of those he knew, to picture the faces of the deceased. Trying, above all else, not to imagine the piercing blows of gunshots, the edges of blades, the scorching heat of explosions raking at his skin...

Trudging dully, he stumbled upon three people. He recognized two of them--Imraan, massive as he was, was pretty hard not to know, and he and Janet had crossed paths once or twice. Imraan was standing near some fallen logs, the significance of which David didn't immediately understand.

"Hey," David said dully, his fear momentarily diluted by his sheer physical weariness.

"Huh?"

Imraan set the log he'd been dragging down on the ground, and looked up. He was breathing hard, sweating, and hadn't noticed that Cody Jenkins had arrived. And then Cody had decided to tell him how useless his project was.

Sure, Imraan welcomed the arrival of Cody Jenkins to the area. Notsomuch because he was really hoping to run into Cody Jenkins of all people here, he barely knew the guy, but just because he figured he had to be happy about meeting anyone who wasn't, well who wasn't going to try to kill him. But that didn't mean he had to appreciate the guy's comments on the situation at hand. The guy didn't have to be an optimist about this whole thing, but just what good was he doing by spouting off stupid stuff like that? What, was he supposed to just sit around and wait to die? Or even better, decide that hey, there's no hope here, might as well go kill people? That was EXACTLY the kind of mindset that lead to nineteen classmates dead!

Imraan was about to reply, but held it when Janet Claymont arrived on the scene. Janet was a cheerleader, and while they weren't exactly friends he liked her well enough. She asked about Chad's conspiracy theory. Great, all he needed was for everyone to start thinking that way and going further down this rabbit hole.

"Hey Janet. Uh.. well he is, I guess. I'm just trying to make a signal here."

An awkward moment of silence passed, before Imraan shook his head and sat down on one of the logs. He'd forgotten what he was originally going to say to Cody, but he had to say something.

"Cody."

He wiped his face with his shirt, buying a couple more seconds to pick his words.

"Honestly, maybe you're right. I don't even know enough about this whole thing to say if you're being crazy or not. But I mean, so what? I'm trying to be proactive here, I'm trying to do something. If you wanna help, that's great, and I think all our chances to survive are better as a group. You don't wanna help, well, that's your choice."

A shout indicated the arrival of another. Imraan was drawing a blank on his last name, but he recognized it as David, a guy who played baseball and maybe a couple other sports for the school. The guy was looking exhausted. Either he'd just crossed half the island to get here... or he'd seen something bad and it was shock masquerading as fatigue. Imraan waved him over.

"Hey. You uh, you wanna sit down?"

(( Sorry for breaking post order, but I need to avoid inactivity.))

Before any further explanation happened, Imraan (She thought? She really couldn't remember.) Replied to her earlier question.

"Hey Janet. Uh.. well he is, I guess. I'm just trying to make a signal here."

"A signal?" She asked, "Would that even work? Do you think anyone would find this place? I mean, could we be that lucky?" I seemed pretty pointless to Janet at this point, but she was still getting used to this whole thing anyway, so maybe this was how others were dealing with it too. Maybe Imraan (once again, guessing here.) was correct and this would save everyone; well everyone who was still living, that is. Either way, he seemed to be talking to Cody now. It turned out that the other guy was the one who had said that this was the fault of the government.

Before she could delve any further into this, she heard the sound of someone collapse near her followed by a weak greeting.

This new boy who had arrived had a name that Janet had an easier time remembering. If here memory was correct, his name was David. She had seen him once or twice, but she couldn't remember anything notable. "Hi. Are you okay? You seem pretty exhausted." was the first thing she thought to say.

(Similarly avoiding inactivity)

"Sit," David repeated dully. He stared at Imraan for a moment and then turned his gaze back towards Janet. "Fine," he said. "I'm fine. I just..." He trailed off and, sighing, sunk onto the ground. "Tired," he managed. He arranged himself carefully so as not to disturb Imraan's logs (the significance of which he had still failed to grasp). "That's all."

He crossed his legs and looked around him blankly. "I...sorry," he said softly. "I just don't...I don't want to be alone." That was all; he closed his eyes and his head sunk forwards a little.

These people might be dangerous, but David was beyond caring. Half in a daze, he pulled his bottle of water to his lips and took another sip.

((In loving memory of reasonable timescale. PM if I made some egregious omission or mistake.))

No, they won't come. But a man can dream. The truth won't set you free here. Nothing will set anyone free. Ignorance is bliss.

The truth won't set you free.

No, the revelation will drive you mad.

He shifted uneasily. People would only want to hear what they wanted to hear. Simple to think or to say, but not to truly realize. Maybe Imraan and the rest had already consigned themselves and just wanted some peace of mind. He had no business disturbing that...

"No, you're right, I think we should try something anyway. Just in case (some sympathetic Pacific Islander comes along or a Japanese trawler or heck I dunno, some Icelandic Codfisher...) there is someone out there after all."

Feeling reconciliation and just a little sheepish (although he had just as much right to be wrong as they did), he stepped forward, bag and axe in either hand. He threw both of them down - the axe to head off any uneasiness about aggression, and the bag to extend a hand (or bottle) of friendship: he quickly unzipped it and produced a bottle of water, which he tossed towards David.

"Don't worry, we can get more. I can drag a few logs if you want to rest and help him out, Imraan."

He was probably acting almost suspiciously friendly now, but he didn't care. It was just another thing to think about as he moved to create their futile signal. How silly people could be, thinking they want what they need but really wanting to not want what they needed to want...

Time passed. The signal was, when all was said and done, something they could be proud of. Fruit of their own hands, embellished and smoothed with bits of this and that cut to size with the axe, a rebellion against The Man, and a hope against hope of a safe resolution. They could even, after a successful poll for a lighter owner, create a fire to keep their spirits up. It wasn't quite a bonfire on the beach, but gazing into the friendly glow, listening to the waves crash below, maybe there was more to this SotF thing than crying and dying...

A routine burst of static crackled out from speakers hidden who knows where; they'd now survived two full days, but there was a growing list of those who hadn't.

(Daniel continued from Take Eat)

Daniel had lost them. He felt stupid, but he had lost Maddy and the other girl. He had given chase, but found himself lost in the forest. Defeated, he had sluggishly made his way up to the northern cliffs of the island, hoping to find a better view. When instead he saw a group of students gathered around, he felt lucky. At the same time though, alarmed. More students were dead. They're were people actually playing the game. It was enough to make him sick.

He listened to the conversation from behind several trees and nodded his head. These students weren't playing, hell, they were doing the exact opposite. Daniel could feel some tears come to his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand. Keeping his gun at his belt, Daniel approached the group and merely waved his hand.

"Hey..." He managed to choke out, in pure simple relief.

((Maxwell Lombardi continued from Walk The Line))

It had been several hours since his brutal dispatching of Vera, and Maxwell was already beginning to get tired of it all.

Not of the killing of course, that was the fun part. It was the bits in between as he travelled from place to place that bored him senseless. Hours upon hours of nothing but walking in an unspecified direction, occasionally checking the map ever so often to make sure he wasn't accidentally walking into a dangerzone or something. It'd be unfathomably annoying if after narrowly avoiding death several times in one day for him to in such an anticlimactic fashion.

Still, as the evening wore on into night it soon became evident that he'd have to find somewhere to sleep for the night. Preferably somewhere indoors, with a comfortable bed. Resting out in the open made him a huge target, not to mention just how unpleasant it'd be to sleep underneath a tree like some savage. Still, that didn't stop him from taking the occasional two-hour rest here and there in order to keep his strength up. But if he was to get a proper nights rest he'd have to find a building of some description. Any building would do, as long as it had somewhere a grown man like himself could rest comfortably...

On the bright side, he wouldn't be the only person on this island feeling the urge to go to sleep. Chances are there were any people out there right now, desperately searching for some place to rest for the night. Many of them would be content to just sleep in the middle of a forest somewhere, all alone with whatever weapon they were carrying with them laid aside. In other words, somewhere out there in that inky darkness were over a hundred potential targets just waiting for someone to come along and slit their throat in their sleep... If only Maxwell had a knife to do it with.

The hours went on, and Maxwell had yet to find either a reasonable shelter OR a defenseless nobody to remove from the game. The night was already in the early stages of dawn, the once black sky slowly but surely turning lighter as the sun began to rise in the east. He cursed himself then for not bringing a watch along with him, and was about to consider checking his bag in case they let him keep his mobile when a familiar sound of static emanated across the island. Another announcement already? My word, I really did lose track of the time haven't I? Ah well, I could use a little entertainment...

It was fairly standard at first. Two idiots apparently got themselves killed by staying in a dangerzone too long, which didn't come as much as a surprise to Maxwell. If anything, he was shocked by the fact that ONLY two people had bee stupid enough to stay in a dangerzone. What he heard next on the other hand, DID come as something of a shock to him...

"Well, after that, everyone's favourite midget, Reiko Ishida managed to score with another double kill. That's right kids, that puts her on four. First up was Tobias Elwin, who took a knife to the throat and then right afterwards, Raina Morales discovered that Reiko's boot was a lot harder than her head. Must've been a real kicker for her..."

So, the bitchy psychopath had already butchered two more imbeciles before our little encounter? My, she really DOES work fast doesn't she? I'm almost glad I didn't kill her now... With people like her out there removing the competition left right and centre, I should be off this island within a few days!

Six and seven came in quick succession at the hands of Maxwell Lombardi, our new favourite Brit first strangling Augustus MacDougal to death, then taking advantage of what can be only described as the monumental stupidity of Harold Fisher to take his gun and shoot him with it. Thanks, Maxwell, for showing everyone that there's more to you folks than top hats and tea drinking."

Well... Damn. So much for hoping that he didn't spill the beans so soon. Oh well, they were going to learn one way or another weren't they? Besides, I doubt most of them know who the hell I am anyway... Then again, that Augustus fellow knew who I was didn't he? Hmm......

MUCH more entertaining was our next kill, with Nick Reid doing the honours by smashingTom Guthrie's face into a fine paste using a rock wall, so for those of you keeping count, that's two for Mr. Reid.

Nick Reid is a vicious killer? What a surprise... Note to self, make sure to finish him off the next time we meet...

After that, Danya went on to announce a few more names which meant nothing to him along with the dangerzones. As Maxwell noted the information down on the back of his map, he couldn't help but wonder why Vera's death hadn't been mentioned. Its not as if she died too late or anything, he'd killed her several hours ago... Maybe it was a technical mistake? Two many names to mention all at once? Or perhaps Danya just liked to screw around with people's heads...

"Our last order of business for this announcement is that perennial office favourite; the best kill award! Sarah Atwell, I hope you remember us when Hollywood gives you a call, because you're the winner of today's award! Please head on over to the Infirmary in a short while to collect your glamourous prize!"

At that moment, Maxwell was suddenly surprised to find himself feeling somewhat... Well, jealous of the fact that he hadn't been the one to win the best kill award. He hadn't a clue WHY he was jealous, after all the BKA was only a trick used to get people to start killing each other. Besides, he was well equipped enough as it was... Perhaps it was because knowing that someone other then himself had won it meant that there was somebody else out there doing a better job at reducing the competion? Oh whatever, it doesn't really matter either way... Still, I best keep an eye out for this Sarah Atwell girl. Perhaps I could even congratulate her on a job well done... After i've filled her with lead, of course.

At that moment, saw something glowing in the distance. A fairly faint grow, but a glow nevertheless. Don't tell me somebody was actually STUPID enough to start a fire and alert everyone on the damn island... Then again, perhaps its a trap set up to lure would-be killers or idiots desperate to hide behind someone else's back? Oh well, guess it doesn't hurt to just check it out...

He crept slowly through the forest, holding onto his weapon tightly as he slowly began to make out the shape of several people huddled around a campfire sat precariously on the edge of steep cliff. He hid behind a tree on the edge of the camp, poking his head out slowly in order to get a decent view of them. From the looks of things, they were just a bunch of harmless friends chatting to each other. None of them seemed armed as far as he was aware off, and they were too busy discussing the announcement to take any notice of their surroundings... In other words, it was the perfect target for someone like Maxwell to take advantage of.

A wicked smile creased his lips as he held his recently acquired TEC-9 up, readying himself to jump from his cover and open fire. He considered for a second the idea of trying to take them all out at once, but decided against that. It'd be a much better idea to take out the strongest first, causing the others to panic and present themselves as clear targets. Hmm, that tall paki seemed like the strongest of the bunch. Perhaps it'd be best to take him out first...

He took another peak, and was surprised to spot someone hiding behind a tree a dozen or so metres away. What the... Bastard! Where did HE come from?!?

He observed him at first, trying to figure out his motives. Was he planning to do the same thing Maxwell was? He couldn't tell at first... It wasn't until he approached the group with open arms that Maxwell realised that he didn't mean any harm either. If anything, he was glad that this newcomer had arrived to provide a distraction... Well, no time like the present.

Without a moment's hesitance, he jumped from out of his cover and aimed his gun's sights at Imraan. No fancy speeches. This time he'd just do the practical thing and open fire on them whilst he still had the element of surprise on his side.

And sure enough, that's exactly what he did as he pulled the trigger, firing off 12 rounds in Imraan's general direction with a sadistic look on his face.

When the announcement hit, Imraan was resting on his haunches at the edge of the cliff, staring out at the early morning sky. He'd moved off from the others a bit. Not too far, just far enough that he had some personal space. He knew the announcement would be coming soon.

They hadn't done a half-bad job on the sign, actually. It had taken longer than Imraan had originally hoped, but by the end of it he thought they'd gotten some kind of camaraderie down. He could have done without Cody's overall attitude about the thing, but hey, he'd helped, so Imraan didn't think he had much to complain about.

Of course, now that it was morning and he could see what they'd spent so much time on with the benefit of a night's rest and fresh eyes, it all seemed pretty pointless. Just what WERE the odds of a bunch of logs leading to their rescue, anyway? It wasn't exactly a revolutionary idea, and so far as Imraan knew it sure as heck hadn't worked any of the other times this had happened.

He glanced over at the others: Janet, Cody, David.

"Gets them doing something other than killing each other at least," he muttered to himself.

There was that. Not to mention that it kept all of them in one spot, and better protected in a group than any of them would be wandering around by themselves in the middle of the night.

Congratulations, you've managed to ensure that three whole people didn't get killed yesterday! How about the other 200?

Imraan looked down at the shotgun in his hands. Heh. How indeed. He'd gotten it loaded and figured out the basics of it, he thought; but until push came to shove he sure didn't have a clue if he'd be willing OR able to work it correctly.

The announcement rolled through the island, and after it was finished, Imraan spent a few seconds with his eyes closed, breathing deep. He thought he was doing OK. Better than the last time, at least.

Speaking of people he'd hoped to keep alive. Madeleine Smith had killed the Jarocki kid. Imraan remembered leaving her by the truck, hoping that she'd follow him and Edward, hoping that he could provide some protection to her. Guess she didn't need it. The announcement had pointed out that Jarocki was apparently shooting at her. So maybe she'd had no choice. He didn't know if that justified it, but it made him feel better, at least. If Jarocki wasn't able to attack anyone, the island was safer as a whole.

Rachel had killed Theo Behr. That... that just couldn't be right. Rachel was not the easiest person to get along with, Imraan knew that more than anyone. But she would NOT kill in cold blood. Maybe Theo had attacked her first, heck, maybe the whole thing was an accident and Danya was just passing it off as Rachel murdering him. Imraan didn't know much about this show, but he did know he would not, COULD NOT trust those announcements blindly. Besides, again it made him feel better to assume that.

Of course, Imraan wasn't stupid. He wasn't naive. He couldn't just tell himself that they'd all killed in self-defense, or that Danya was distorting the truth every single time. Reiko Ishida, she'd killed four people. FOUR PEOPLE. How could that be an accident? She'd killed Raina. Raina Morales, who was on the girls' team and who he'd shared a knowing smile with on more than one occasion over the heads of the other students. Raina, who despite being nearly as tall as he was, wouldn't hurt a fly. And... what, Reiko had kicked her head in? While she was sleeping or something? Maxwell Lombardi had strangled someone, and then shot someone else. Could there possibly be an explanation for THAT? Imraan didn't think so.

So those kids were out there. They were killing, and some of them had to be killing in cold blood. And he was up here, rolling logs around and reciting the Beatitudes.

Imraan shook his head again and stood up, feeling his kneecaps pop. Maybe this morning he'd figure out what to do next. Heck, maybe God would give him a sign. That brought a grin to his face, at least. God's days of burning bushes and telling you what to do were long past.

He walked back over to the others, holding his shotgun low. Another guy had come out of the trees, one of the faces that Imraan recognized from school but couldn't put a name too. The other kid held a gun, but he wasn't looking like he was about to use it. Still, Imraan didn't want to take any chances.

"Hey," he said. "You uh, you want to rest here for a bit?"

He shifted the shotgun to both hands, keeping it pointed away from the new guy and the others, but with his attention solely on them.

So. Day three. There were still more than two hundred students still alive - but that would change quickly enough. He felt sorry for those that felt that killing was the best option. That's not how people were supposed to behave. Reiko, Maxwell, Kris, Clio, Alex, Nick, Staffan, they'd all killed not just once but twice or more. Maybe there could be redemption for the others Danya had mentioned. But the mass murderers... the lot of them were lost. And yet, they didn't deserve to die. They'd chosen to cast aside their humanity, but in the end, what else could you expect? It was hard to say that someone else deserved to go home more than they did. They were just normal teens who had lost their way. All the same, the thought of someone hopping into the boat or helicopter or whatever with a smile on their face and a dozen kills under their belt was unsettling to say the least. That is, if the winner even got to return home: that seemed pretty doubtful, in all honesty.

As of now, there was no real plan for the coming days. None of his newly stress-tempered friends was on the road to murder. They just wanted to survive, but even that was almost foolishly optimistic. Survival was relative, after all, when only one (maybe) student got out of the place. Prolonging the final days of their life, that was all they could ask. There was another, deeper motive that he recognized when he meditated on it. People couldn't bear to die on day one, day two, day three, right out of the gate. When did they plan on dying, though? A week wouldn't be bad, that'd be about halfway-ish, but that meant you were just mediocre. A week and a half? Then you're getting into "if only" territory. And then it would suck, of course, to make it two weeks and die at the end. It was a problem with no solution - no, there was one solution. Kick back, meditate, enjoy your time, and go with the Reaper when he came a-callin'.

So, there he was, poking at a little fire while drifting down myriad streams of thought. There wasn't much else to do at the moment - Imraan seemed to know what was going on, he'd probably have some suggestions. For now, though, he was off by himself, thinking. It was a good activity; Cody didn't want to interrupt him.

But someone else did.

A reminder, yet again, that campfire or no campfire, this was no normal camping trip. The newcomer's name eluded him for a second, and then -

Six and seven came in quick succession at the hands of Maxwell Lombardi, our new favourite Brit...

He would've dropped his bread if he had any.

Maxwell was an agent of chaos. He'd come, no doubt, to fire into the group, cause chaos and destruction, destroy their semblance of stability. Cody wasn't about to let that happen.

His fingers pushed through invisible molasses, closing around the fire axe in what was either a split second or an hour. Turning, rising, getting to his feet, Maxwell was raising a gun, aiming with the deliberate, deadly slowness of an artillery operator. Aiming, Cody could see as he lumbered as quickly as he could across the ground, directly at Imraan - who wasn't even paying any attention. The decision didn't even need to be made; he ran without a moment's pause directly between the two, waving his axe in a manner which he hoped was threatening but which he knew would do no good.

Bang

No! He was just a few steps away, so close to protecting Imraan... It didn't seem to have hit him but it was impossible to tell for sure... He'd started, he was turning around now...

Bang

Cody skidded to a halt between them axe in the air and face lined in fury. He wasn't going to let Maxwell pick off another unsuspecting victim. Another round flew past...

Bang

"Not on my watch, bit-" A searing pain slashed through his side like a red-hot vicegrip pinching his skin into oblivion except it was just his skin it was was a painful burning tunnel right through his body and it was so painful but he couldn't stop...

Bang

Cody felt his arm shatter. It folded uselessly against his body and his left hand closed around the axe handle...

Bang

Miss. That wasn't much comfort though because Maxwell was still so far away and each step rattled his arm ripping through more and more flesh and he couldn't even tell that he had an arm any more because it might as well just been a twisted stump whose only purpose was to cause him pain...

Bang

He wheezed. It was a horrible feeling sucking blood into his lung through a brand-new burning hole right in his chest and there was 100% no way that he could possibly survive but he just needed to make Maxwell think he was going to kill him so the others could vacate...

Bang

Another miss but that didn't matter any more. Warm crimson froth was spilling out of his chest every time he breathed and even more heavy liquid blood was pouring into his lungs...

Bang

A loud vorpal whizz - the slug missed his skull by inches and he wasn't really sure whether to be thankful or disappointed but at least he got to hear that noise before he died, it was really pretty cool and you didn't get to hear a freaking bullet zip by your ear every day...

Bang

He was slowing down now. No amount of anger or determination or whatever could keep him on his feet much less running for very much longer. Maxwell had missed again which bought him a few more steps but he really hoped that he hadn't let hot lead cruise by and nail Imraan...

Bang

Another explosion of pain. It was his clavicle now except he didn't have a clavicle any more because it was in a million useless little pieces that hurt so so bad...

Bang

He coughed. There was so much blood he couldn't hardly breathe any more and he wasn't yelling any more and it felt like he was running a marathon. Gooey strings of blood and frothing saliva hung off his chin...

Bang

One last hit. Right in the face. His cheekbone was broken and probably a few of his teeth too and seriously why did he have to break all the bones in his body there was plenty of soft tissue to hit instead...

He was on his knees and he wasn't moving any more but the world just wouldn't stop and hey why was he on his knees anyways he didn't remember falling but he must have collapsed and now he was falling, falling, falling but he was still on the ground and what was he doing anyways? Yes, he was supposed to race Imraan to Maxwell, no that wasn't right he was supposed to chop Maxwell down or something because why else did he have an axe in his hand? Well maybe he was supposed to start a fire with it because it was a fire axe and isn't that what you did with one because why else would it be called a fire axe, maybe he could ask someone but his lungs just wouldn't work and there was nothing for it now, he was on his hands and knees oozing blood from his chest and his shoulder and his abdomen and his face and his arm and spewing it from his mouth and he realized that this is it and there were no last cigarettes or last meals or last requests or even last words when there were almost half a dozen burning bloody holes in you and the world was growing darker...

One final moment of lucidity. He hoped Imraan was unhurt, hoped everyone else was okay, hoped that Maxwell wouldn't kill them all. There was one thing he needed to do though, just one final thing he had to get done before the curtains closed for the last time. With all the effort he could muster, he looked up at Maxwell, grabbing one hand in the other. His fingers wouldn't move and he was shaking so badly but he was almost there... There was no movement from his body now, but he could have laughed if his lungs still worked.

Lying on the ground in front of him were his hands, one propping up the other, frozen in position with one middle finger raised.

B088 CODY JENKINS: DECEASED.

Sitting around the fire as night fell around them, David began to feel a little less crazy.

Not entirely recovered, of course--that would be insane. David had only briefly recovered from his fear yesterday, and in running he'd found a way both to stay alive, feel safe, and remind himself why he liked to live. The groaning and grinding of muscles pushed to their extremes, the feeling of air forced into your lungs by breathing, lifting your body up, refreshing it, the pounding of the heart and temples, each deep, resounding beat a gentle reminder that yes, you are still alive and yes, you are working and yes, your are a goddamn engine of movement and power and raw, untouched life.

He liked these others--Jenkins was a little bit standoffish but he wasn't mean, and Janet and Imraan were simply nice. He'd found it in him to help Imraan with his little project (get picked up from the air? Made sense to David), and then was able to sit in front of the fire. It was nice to no longer be running, nice to not have this wild panic forcing him to flee from anyone and anything he saw.

He looked down at his shirt.

It was the one he'd bought from SMBC--the one with the picture of the two men mounted on blindfolded bears hitting a lit stick of dynamite over a volleyball net, tennis rackets in hand. "The Most Dangerous Game."

There was a metaphor here somewhere, but David had never been too good at English and was in no mood to think about it.

"Hey..." someone gasped.

David looked up. There was a boy standing at the edge of the trees, a boy David didn't recognize. The relief was evident in his face, and David offered him a smile. He'd felt precisely the same way when he'd found these people--felt it even more now, in fact. These were good people, people who wouldn't kill, people who liked life just as much as he did.

They had to survive. They absolutely had to survive. David refused to consider any other alternative.

"Hey," he replied to Daniel, as soon as Imraan had finished speaking. "You should stick around." He jerked his head to encompass the whole group around the circle. "These, uh...these are good people."

And then Cody was running, fire axe extended, and the air was filled with the deafening cacophany of gunfire.

David wasn't complex enough to have regrets right now. David wasn't complex enough to really dwell on whether or not these were good people, whether they could have been friends, whether it was cowardly to run or not. All David could think was JESUS and then he was on his feet and running, ripping off in the opposite direction, not even pausing to scream.

He left them behind him. Cody, who he'd seen fall. Daniel, Imraan, Janet, whose fates he didn't know. And the boy standing in the trees, gun out and smiling.

There were evil people on this island, and David wasn't sure he was worth anything in the face of someone who could look like that while gunning down his classmates. All David knew, through the melancholy twinge that hit him as he thought of those he'd just left behind, was that he didn't want to die.

He had to survive. He absolutely had to survive. He refused to consider any other alternative.

(David Meramac continued in Fountain of Youth)

At first Daniel was happy. He was relieved. He had finally found people he could count on and even survive with. Then there was the gunfire. All that gunfire. He shook his head and backed into the trees again. No...This place wasn't safe. Lucy wasn't here. How would he find her? Hell, why did she suddenly pop into his mind? Could it be maybe that he was worried she would be in trouble too?

She's a gentle soul...She wouldn't harm anyone. Unfortunately, that's a bad implication there too. Would she even defend herself? With that thought in his mind, Daniel backed further and further into the trees, hoping he hadn't been seen. If he could...

Daniel loaded the gun and cocked it.

...He'd help these people.

As a certain pretentious faggot once said... "Another one bites the dust".

Unsurprisingly, the recoil on the gun turned out to be much stronger then he'd first anticipated. After firing off a dozen rounds in Imraan's direction, he was put somewhat off-balance by surprisingly velocity of the 1.23 kg gun in his hands. Not that it mattered, he'd still managed to gun down his target without much trou...

Wait... Did somebody just jump in the way of the bullets? And gave me the middle finger whilst he was at it?!? Damnit! No matter, I'll just have to... Jesus, that paki had a shotgun the whole time!?! Good god, I need to get into cover fast!

Barely seconds after he'd filled Cody with lead, Maxwell quickly leaped back into cover before he could be met with an inevitable counter-attack. He lay his back against the tree for a moment or so, trying to figure out what would be the best course of action before they tried to outflank him or something. His heart was pumping, adrenaline flowing through his veins as he realised just how dangerous a situation he was in...

...And he was loving every minute of it.

Now THIS is more like it! Much more sporting then those other morons I encountered... Why, no wonder so many idiots waste their lives by signing up to the army! The thrill of the hunt, the heat of battle... My god, I don't think I've ever felt more alive in my whole life!

He lifted his gun, taking a deep breath before running from his cover towards another tree that seven or so metres away from him. He had to keep his prey on their toes, make sure that they don't try to get the upper hand on him by moving in on his cover. Nevertheless, he didn't waste the opportunity to fire off the eight remaining rounds in the group's general direction. After reaching cover once again, took a moment to catch his breath before grabbing his gun with his left hand as his right took out the empty magazine and threw it away. He quickly unzipped the duffle bag he had slung over his shoulder, fetching out another magazine and slamming it into his gun.

Alrighty, so far so good...

He wasn't sure whether or not they'd started firing back. He was far too concerned with fighting back to tell if they had even bothered to try and oppose him. Still, whether they were fighting back or not, that didn't concern him one iota. He would open fire on them regardless of whether or not they had the spine to retaliate... Either way, he'd be one more step off this hell hole. Hmm, better keep them on their toes...

In all the excitement, he couldn't help but reach into his jacket pocket for his pistol and whip it out, firing off four rounds of it from behind his cover in his right hand as his left held tightly onto his TEC-9. He knew that trying to use two guns at the same time was a distinctly stupid idea. He had a hard enough time trying to hit people using one gun at a time, let alone two. Nevertheless, by this point he was too caught up in the moment to give a damn whether or not it was bright idea. What mattered to him at that moment was that there were at least four people still out there right now waiting for him to strike again, and if facing someone wielding two guns at the same time wasn't an intimidating sight then god knows what is...

Well, why keep them waiting any longer?

He held up his two weapons eagerly, mentally preparing himself for the struggle that he was about to ensue. Things hadn't quite gone to plan, that was obvious... Nevertheless, he still had the upper hand here. All it would take to finish this would be a couple of well placed rounds, and it'll all be over.

He was scared, definitely. Who WOULDN'T be scared in this kind of situation? But if anything, that just made the whole thing even more fun...

Alright then. 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2......