Survival Of The Fittest

"It's...the bus won't leave for ages."
"Well, they won't leave without me..."
"Oh, come on...I get up earlier than you every morning..."
"Oh come on, dad. I'll get the curtains myself."
"Dad, it's like six in the morning...why're you opening the windows now?"
"It's just...it's really bright and I've got a bit of a headache..."



This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that Maynard had awoken from an anaesthetically-induced sleep, and, like the first time, the opening of his eyes had been accompanied by a stream of urine pouring down the side of his leg.

A muffled groan escaped his throat as he struggled to pull himself up, his hair caked with sand and strands of seaweed. Blinking, his eyes began to focus on his surroundings. Ahead of him stretched a vast expanse of beach, peppered intermittently with broken shells and clusters of driftwood. Beyond that was a stretch of ocean, the blue water glimmering in the morning sun. A breeze washed over him as he stood shakily, digging his boaters into the pale grains beneath his feet.

Maynard...this is not a time to panic...

"Is...is anybody there? It's me...it's Maynard! I'm...I'm lost..."

He staggered forward for a few steps, until his shoes collided with a heavy duffel-bag, causing him to stumble and fall into the beach. His jeans were now slick with urine, and his hands trembled as he turned the bag onto its side, to see exactly what it was. B049 was imprinted onto the black canvas in white ink, and as his eyes focussed on the lettering the events of the past few hours replayed themselves in his mind.

Screaming, and tears, and gunfire, and...oh God...they killed the teachers and "I'm gonna have to...I can't...I can't...I can't..."

Maynard was scared. He knew where he was, and what was happening, but some tiny part of his mind protested. It still felt oddly unreal, as if this was still some sort of lucid nightmare from which he'd soon awake, drenched in sweat and curled between his blankets. He'd text Daniel, telling him of this whacked-out dream he'd had, and they'd-

Oh god Daniel. Daniel and Michael and Ian and Juhan and Ami and Carmina and everyone...and...Gwen.

Maynard knew the odds. An eight stone weakling up against...anybody...

"Oh God...I don't wanna die...I don't wanna die..."

There was a chance, though. There was always a chance.

His body now racked with tears, Maynard tugged open the canvas bag and tossed aside the contents, intent on finding whatever he'd been armed with. After a few seconds of fervent searching he found nothing, only to feel his leg brush against the cold wooden shaft that lay nearby. Gently shifting amongst the white sands, Maynard's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.

"A...a sword?"

He didn't think it would be possible for him to smile, not in a situation as dire as this, but he did, a grin stretching across his face.

"They...they gave me a sword! A...a fancy one...a uh...a naginata, yeah, that's it. Like in that manga I-"

Maynard, you're in a fight to the death with your classmates and you're thinking about fucking manga?!

The slightly curved blade glinted in the sunlight, as Maynard picked it up again and tried to move with it. It was heavy for him, and the length rendered carrying it somewhat impractical. After staring at it for a few moments, Maynard decided to attempt to drag it behind him. He returned the other items that lay littered about into the canvas bag, and shuffled forward a few steps, before roughly falling down onto the beach again, making sure to avoid the point of the blade as he did so. It still seemed so fake, like some terrible reality show, that at any second someone would appear, camera in hand, laughing at the scrawny kid with tears burning his cheeks.

But they didn't, and Maynard was left resigned to his eventual fate.

((Enter Adam Morgan))

This was some real heavy stuff going on. Adam hadn't really cared all that much about Disneyland. Well, he'd maybe been a little bit excited about Disneyland. Mickey Mouse was kinda creepy, but there'd be roller coasters and stuff, and maybe the guys could've slipped away and had a session somewhere in Disneyland. Fighting in Disneyland would've been pretty hardcore, in a sort of ironic, twisted way. Only, Adam was pretty sure they were in for a fight a whole lot more hardcore than anything in the Magic Kingdom could ever hope to be. He was trying real hard not to worry.

Keep cool. That was what he'd spent so much time practicing. He was pretty sure his face was composed. The tear streaks had come off alright, with a little spit. He was, right now, focusing on not thinking. That was the way with tough stuff. Someone's beating on you in the ring, tune out. Don't focus. Try not to feel the pain. Adam had a good deal of experience trying to not feel pain, but that was usually when he could remember that the pain would eventually end. Technically speaking, all pain came to a final halt, but of the sort it was even more painful to contemplate.

At least he had a sword. It was hefty thing. The terrorists had taken a look at Adam, in his leather jacket, and had said, "Man, this guy's a badass, so he needs a real weapon, but he's too badass for a gun, so give him a sword. That'll do him well." It was good to think of the terrorists talking like that, like how he and the guys shot the breeze. It made them relatable, and gave him this little nugget of hope that maybe they'd change their minds and call it all a day without blowing out necks or forcing people to kill or any of that stuff.

Because Adam was a fighter, but he wasn't a killer. Well, more than that, even in his crazy power fantasies he wasn't a killer. Okay, he killed Al Qaeda terrorists and stuff, mowed down legions of bad guys and all, especially during paintball, but that was different, because here there weren't any bad guys around. Not a one in sight in all those rows of chairs, just other students. And even if Adam didn't always care for all his classmates, he didn't want any harm to come to 'em. It was why he stepped in when assholes got nasty with the freshmen, only here everyone was a freshman again and the assholes were out of reach behind some computer screens holding little red buttons that could blow Adam up if he got fresh.

And even then, even if he had the guys who'd been up on the stage right in front of him, he didn't really think he'd be able to muster the strength to do anything other than beat the shit out of them. Because fighting wasn't about killing. It was about competition, sometimes, or blowing off stress, or making a point, and Adam was pretty sure killing didn't do any of those things in any way that a good old fashioned clobbering didn't also do.

Maybe he was missing something. He knew there'd been some real crazy people last time around. Some guy gunned down like a dozen kids only to pop himself in the end, and there was a crazy midget or something, and a boy who acted like a bear. Maybe some of the details weren't very clear—Adam had sort of tried to stay away from the news, and aside from the occasional resurgences on TV in the past few years, which often took the form of some girl yelling at a camera, things had been pretty quiet. Danya was dead as Bin Laden, and about as relevant to the world.

But here Adam was, thinking after all, and that was getting his blood pounding. He was fidgeting with his sword, tapping it against his leg as he walked along the sand. That was a bad idea. The sword was sharp, dangerous. He stopped, turned his focus to what was around him. There was beach, sea, a boy lugging a huge-ass spear thing. That was a distraction, a way not to think. Adam could see the guy was having a bit of trouble. He could relate; his own bag was slung over his shoulder, his pack from home over the other, the sword in his right hand, but it'd taken some fussing when he'd woken up. He'd only been conscious for about fifteen minutes, but he'd started walking first thing. Staying still could lead to thinking. It could lead to all kinds of bad stuff. So better to move, to move and never stop moving.

So Adam kept moving in the direction of the boy. He wondered if he should light a cigarette to look more badass. This was a good place to look like a badass, so Adam had a leg up on that front. But the boy, he didn't really look like the sort who might out-badass Adam. He didn't look like he'd out-badass the average accountant. So the cigarette wasn't needed. Besides, the pack was in his back pocket, and he couldn't really reach it with his left hand.

The boy was Maynard, Adam saw. He was one of the many people Adam mostly ignored in school every day. Right here and now, though, Adam had no inclination to keep mostly ignoring him. Someone else, some random guy from school, represented a little link to normalcy, especially since he clearly had no clue what he was doing with the weapon he held. Normalcy was good. It kept the thoughts at bay.

So Adam waved with his left hand, and his right tapped the sword against his leg. He wasn't too far away, a few dozen feet, but coming from the side so maybe he hadn't been seen yet.

"Hey, Maynard," he called. "Over here, man."

Half a minute had passed since he'd collapsed, and Maynard remained still. It was only now that he was becoming aware of the slight chill that had washed over him. Adjusting his waistcoat, he lightly brushed away the tears that were falling steadily onto the mess he'd made in front of him. He hadn't made a very good start to what was almost certain to be one of his last days.

Mum and dad...what're they...and June and August...they'll hear soon, won't they?

No. He mustn't think of that. He had to keep moving, find some way to shift this thing he'd been left with. He'd heard tales of others abandoning their weapons, casting them aside, but Maynard couldn't. This was maybe the only thing that could possibly protect him, and he wasn't about to just cast it aside for someone else.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, rapidly approaching. He froze, unsure of what to do next. It was a classmate, he was sure, but were they friend or foe? No...it had to be friend. Maynard knew that they wouldn't start killing yet. No...they'd be good - he didn't care who they were. He wanted some sign of hope, that there was a chance that his next movement wouldn't be met by a bullet in the head.

And then...a voice.

"Hey, Maynard...Over here, man."

A boy, a voice that was faintly recognisable. Someone who'd surely help him, in some way or the other. Maynard turned his head to face the newcomer, to welcome them. Somehow.

Adam...

Adam Morgan, just one of the faces in the crowd. Someone that Maynard held nothing but ambivalence towards. And in such a situation as this, Maynard knew that ambivalence was one of the best things he could possibly hope for. He noted the blade by the other taller boy's side and flinched in terror, before realising that it was not held with malicious intent.

"A-Adam? Hey! I...are, are you okay?"

Maynard stood once more, attempting to keep a firm hold of his balance, and trudged a few steps towards the friendly face, making sure that his kit was a safe distance away. Close enough to get to if something went wrong.

But it wouldn't. It couldn't.

Not yet.

((G063 Natali Greer start))

No matter how hard she tried, Natali couldn't seem to keep from stumbling. Part of it was simple sleep deprivation, though heaven knew she'd had enough forced sleep over the past day. For the most part, it was shock and the single-mindedness she was forcing on herself so that she didn't just collapse and start crying.

She was heading for the beach, needing to see something even vaguely familiar for some kind of comfort. Maybe she'd take a quick dip to try and clear her head, or maybe through some kind of miracle she'd see a species of starfish that only grew in one place on Earth and she could shout their location to all the cameras and they'd be rescued and the nightmare would be over. As impossible as that probably was, it was a nice thought, so she stumbled on, map clutched in one hand and the crowbar she'd found in her bag in the other.

Natali stopped when the ground under her feet turned to white sand and she closed he'd eyes, taking a minute to breathe in the salty air. When she looked up again, two figures a ways down the beach caught her eye.

Boys from her class. People, finally.

That one was Adam Morgan, she could quickly tell, and the other... Manny? No, Maynard, that was his name. Both of them were nice enough, and any friendly faces were a welcome sight now. "Hey!" Natali called out, starting toward them.

"I'm fine," Adam said. Maynard took a few steps in his direction. The boy looked a good deal worse for the wear. It made Adam glad he'd taken a few moments to get himself straightened out. His image was important, especially in a place where looking soft could get someone killed. Maybe he'd need that cigarette sooner than he'd thought.

Another voice called out, and Adam spared a glance for its source. Natali Greer, someone else he knew of more than knew. She didn't seem to be causing trouble, though, so she was good in his book. He gave her a nod.

"'sup, Natali?" he said. If they were gonna play casual, he could do that. He'd be cool as a cucumber. They were all cool, no murder going on. Not yet. Maybe they'd all be real cool for a whole day and explode all at once. That didn't sound so good to Adam, but he wasn't really sure the alternative beat it. The kids who came out of this, they were pretty messed up, as far as he knew. Hadn't one killed some guy after getting loose, and ended up in jail? The recollections were frustratingly vague.

And here he was, messing up and thinking again. He focused on the sand, so bright in the sunlight, on the sea, on the crash of the waves and the call of a few gulls. There weren't as many here as back home. Probably not enough garbage for them to eat.

"You guys holding up alright?" he asked, returning his attention to the other two, thoughts sufficiently stifled for the moment. Maynard clearly wasn't holding up alright, but Adam wasn't the sort of dick who'd rub the guy's face in it. Better to offer him the chance to fake like it was all okay. Adam took a little closer look at him. Were his pants wet? He tried to keep his expression blank. Thank goodness for practice. He really hoped his time on this wretched island wouldn't all smell like piss, though. That wasn't going to make getting murdered or blown up or whatever any less awful.

The sword kept on bouncing against Adam's leg, tap tap tap. It wasn't quite rhythmic, but hey, he had more important stuff on his mind than keeping a beat.

Natali Greer...someone who was once just another face in the hallway had now become of extremely heightened importance in Maynard's mind. He knew little of the girl, save for the fact that she was quite the capable swimmer. Adam and her...both of them were athletic. And then there was Maynard. He knew that he was not the most reliable of teammates when it came to sporting ability, but there had to be something he could bring to the table, right? Even if it was just this hefty spear-like weapon.

Adam looked so composed, a contrast to Maynard's tear stained cheeks and soiled pants. He noted the brief glance the other boy gave to his jeans, and felt immediately ashamed. Tears were probably the order of the day, but pissing yourself...not something Maynard could explain too easily.

"I...I'm alright, Adam. I mightn't look it, but I...I'm fine."

Maynard attempted to smile, but the effort proved too much. He looked over towards Natali, and the crowbar she carried with her. Two blades and a blunt instrument. If they could work together, form an alliance...somehow, he knew that they'd be well protected. Against...against whatever might come their way.

"Natali...come over here. You'll be safe with us, I promise."

Promises. Things that were probably going to be broken time and time again on this hell-hole of a place they were in. But Maynard had no intention of breaking this one. The three of them would do something...somehow. Even if it was just stick together until the end.

But of course, that's not how it always worked out.

Natali broke into a light jog as she approached Adam and Maynard. She stumbled once, when her flip flops slipped on the sand, and she reminded herself that she should probably change into her tennis shoes. Wandering around the island would be easier if she wasn't tripping all over the place.

"Hey Adam, Maynard. It's good to see you guys." Natali greeted them and managed a wobbly smile at Adam's question. "Yeah, I guess I'm holding up."

And for the moment, she was. Seeing people she knew and the sound and smell of the ocean did a good job of soothing her, and her smile got a little more genuine as Maynard promised her that she'd be safe with them.

"Thank you. This is the first time I've run into someone since I woke up, and I'm glad it was you guys." Natali paused for a moment to roll her shoulders; the crowbar didn't weigh that much, but carrying it around was starting to tire her arm out, and she never was one to do a lot of lifting.

As she did so, she looked over the two boys. Adam wasn't looking too worse for wear, but then again he usually didn't. Maynard looked more like she felt: scared and just trying to hold himself together. She wondered how much of a mess she was, after stumbling around in a daze trying to find her way to the beach. Probably more than a little bit of a mess.

"Maynard... you look like you could use a hug." Natali hoped he wouldn't be embarrassed by that comment. She could use a hug too.

"That's your job," Adam said. "I don't do hugs."

He especially didn't do hugs if they came with piss. Maybe, just maybe, if babies were involved and he was wearing bad clothes, and even then it was a real long shot. Here, when he only had the spares he'd brought for the trip? No way. He hoped Maynard had kept track of his own personal bag, so he could change later. Otherwise, Adam would have to lend him some clothes. Of course, even putting aside the difference in their heights, doing so would be tough, because he couldn't exactly come out and say that he knew what had happened. That would humiliate Maynard, and the boy didn't need a side order of shame to go with his inevitable-death shake. But then, going, "Dude, wanna borrow my pants?" out of nowhere didn't leave a very good impression either.

This would've been way easier if Paulo had been here. He'd've just flat out been the asshole and brought it into the open, and then they could've moved on. Paulo was out there, somewhere, Paulo and Cooper and some of the other guys (and girls, since Mallory had started coming around. Adam really wasn't sure how he felt about that. It wasn't like he was ideologically opposed to fighting girls, just, the logistics of it sounded like they'd be really... awkward). It would be good to find his friends, especially since they knew how to take care of themselves. Adam knew the guys, knew they wouldn't give in to this bullshit.

So, come to think of it, why were they standing around here, talking about hugs and staying in one place? There was ground they could be covering, right now. They could be making progress, finding Paulo and Cooper, and Adam didn't want to wait on that a second longer than absolutely necessary. The tapping of his sword was picking up pace. He had a sheathe for it, but that was still in his pack. No sense messing around getting a weapon out if someone was already coming in screaming bloody murder.

"Guys," Adam said, "I think we should go find more people. I've got some friends I'd like to find."

"A hug, huh?" Maynard managed a half-smile as Natali caught up with him and Adam. "I don't think I'm...in the best position to be hugged right now. I uh...um...I...uh..."

Oh, now he was stammering and trailing off. He knew he oughtn't do so, but discussing wetting your pants with two people you weren't too familiar with while under the not-to-pleasant prospect of dying at any second wasn't exactly one he could have prepared for. He took a deep intake of air, and expelled the truth in a single breath.

"I...wet...myself. I don't think hugging me would be too pleasant an experience, I think."

He blinked, and rubbed his eyes. They were sore from tears and the glare of the mid-morning sun. "Oh, and I've got a change of pants with me, so you don't have to worry about the smell for too much longer."

It was then that Adam suggested that they move out of the open. Maynard was all up for that. If it meant that they might live a little longer, moving away from the beach was hardly a difficult choice. He glanced over at the canvas dufflebag and his own backpack, which lay several further feet away from it. It wasn't too heavy, so it wouldn't make leaving too difficult. They'd have left most of his stuff in there, right? What harm could a few books, extra clothing, and some pens do?

Then Adam said that there were some friends he wanted to find. Other athletic ones, probably. They all seemed to be a good sort. As long as they willing to let him tag along, he didn't care who they were.

"Sure! Let's get out of here. I um...I might need a little bit of help with this naginata thing. I'll be able to carry the other stuff though. I'm not entirely useless, I promise. And...friends, yeah - there'll be plenty others we can trust, right? Speaking of which, I know a few good sorts as well. If we can band together then we'll be able to do something to get out of here."

Natali was embarrassed on Maynard's behalf when he admitted that he'd wet himself. She'd been with these guys all of ten minutes and she'd already committed a social blunder. Good going, Nat.

Adam sounded like he was starting to get impatient, and she didn't want to irritate the big guy with a sword, no matter how nice he was. She wasn't eager to leave the beach, but there was no denying that they were dangerously exposed standing around out here. She could always come back later, couldn't she?

Right, of course she could. Of course. To convince herself otherwise would be admitting that she was really, truly going to die somewhere on this island and Natali wasn't quite ready to do that yet.

"Before we go, I'm going to change shoes real quick, okay?" She set her things down and unzipped the bag she'd been assigned; she'd stowed her messenger bag inside so that she could carry everything more easily. Fishing out her tennis shoes and socks, Natali slipped her flip flops off and shook sand off of them before tucking them into the bag and zipping it back up.

She pulled her socks and shoes on as quickly as she could, aware that Adam was probably getting more irritated the longer it took Maynard and her to get their things together. "Much better!" She declared once her shoes were fully on.

"I can help carry your... blade on a stick thing." She offered Maynard. Maybe that would help make up for embarrassing him like she had. "It doesn't look too heavy."

Scooping her things back up, she offered the slightly crumpled map to Adam. "I think we're here," she indicated the stretch of tan along the left side of the island. "Anywhere in particular you want to go?"

"Nah," Adam said. "Nowhere specific. I think they put us wherever, so anyone could be anywhere."

That seemed pretty basic. He hoped Natali and Maynard weren't gonna make him do the heavy lifting when it came to thinking up plans and pointing out really obvious stuff. Long term wasn't awful, but it wasn't really Adam's forte, either. Common sense he could do, but it made him hate the world a little more whenever he had to. At least the piss thing had been mostly sorted, and Maynard had spare pants. He'd need to get changed at some point, but if he wanted to move out first, whatever. Adam wasn't gonna complain, at least not unless they stopped somewhere and the scent got particularly pungent.

As it was right now, Adam just wanted to get moving. The whole point of wandering out to the beach had been to move instead of thinking, and now that he had travelling companions he was realizing they were mostly slowing him down. Changing shoes wasn't a huge delay, but really? It wasn't like this was the place for fashion concerns. Adam had started tapping the sword against his leg really fast, but one swing impacted a little bit harder than the rest. He kept a frown off his face as he forced his hand to still. If he couldn't keep control of the thing, he'd need to put it in his bag, and then when they inevitably got jumped by some geek with a toothbrush shank, he'd have to waste time futzing around trying to pull out his blade. No, martial arts movies and professional wrestling had taught Adam that constant vigilance was absolutely vital. There was no telling when some bastard would pitch a folding chair at your head.

In a way, this whole Survival of the Fittest thing wasn't that different from a big tournament or a season's storyline. People fought and found rivals and made names for themselves, and it was all very dramatic, but at the end all that mattered was being the last one standing, the dog on top of the heap.

"You guys have any ideas where to go?" he asked. They could be democratic about the whole thing, and Adam really didn't care enough to vote. Well, unless they picked somewhere totally insane. He was sure there were places here it would be stupid to intentionally wander, and he wasn't quite convinced that Natali and Maynard wouldn't find them in a hurry.

But that was for the future. They had yet to prove themselves. Maybe they wouldn't mess up after all.

"Uh...I have nowhere in particular. I mean, like you said, they just dumped us wherever. They could be right on top of us or they could be on the other end of the island. Wherever you go, I'll follow."

Maynard shifted his shoes against the sands that coated the shoreline. He was useless in a situation like this. Heck, when Natali had offered to help him with his naginata he'd accepted with a clap of the hands and a overly vehement "Yes!" Anyone watching would've thought she'd just confessed that she was in love with him.

Speaking of love...

There was Gwen. Gwen, the gothic girl who he'd met in a bookstore, the girl he'd fetched gelato and discussed poetry with, the girl who'd accompanied him to Prom. The girl who he felt understood him like no other he'd ever met. The girl who he... what would you call it? Was it a crush? It'd always felt like one, but maybe he was fooling himself again, as he always did. Nevertheless...

He'd find her. Protect her. Somehow. But, as Adam said, they'd been scattered all over the island, and if they were about to move everybody else was likely to take the same path. They'd meet up eventually, and everything would be okay then. Until then, though...

"Yep, let's get going," he said, tossing his backpack over his shoulder, before ungracefully pulling up the dufflebag. "I know we're liable to be attacked anywhere we go, but if we keep moving then...then it'd be better. I'll...get changed a bit later, when it's more c-convenient."

Oh, he was such a master of words. Maynard glanced over at the naginata, which still lay incongruously amongst the blanched grains of the shore. "Ready to help, Natali?" he smiled, hoping that would somehow make the task a little bit more tolerable. She seemed a nice girl, but he didn't know how patient she'd be with his lack of strength. Adam's patience appeared to be wearing then, so hers could be drained up at any second.

Okay, so Adam was going to take charge and Maynard was doing the best he could. Natali could handle that. If their group needed someone to be the calm one, then she'd be calm. Provide a little balance, so to speak.

She took another deep breath and looked at the map again. "It looks like there's several places around with buildings. We could go look around those - even if we don't find anyone we're looking for, being inside an apartment or something is more secure than standing around outside."

Buildings meant people, or in this case, the things they had left behind. Extra food, medical supplies, a place to sleep without worrying about someone coming along and blowing your head off. If they were really lucky, there might be a computer or phone or anything their kidnappers had overlooked.

"Everything's east of us, it looks like. I guess we can just walk and see what we come to first." Natali folded the map and tucked it away in the pocket of her shorts before turning to Maynard and returning his smile. "So how are we going to carry this thing without taking somebody's eye out?"

"Alright," Adam said. "East it is. Let's go. Whoever's carrying that should just walk in back. Share it if it's too big."

He didn't really want to spend ages discussing the logistics of carrying Maynard's polearm. Yeah, they could probably come up with the most optimal manner of transport, but that could take a few minutes of fussing with the thing, and by that point they could've made some actual progress on getting somewhere. Especially if they were planning to look in areas with buildings, there would be time to rest and reconsider stuff later. Besides, the difficulties of carrying the thing would only become evident with experience dragging it along.

More than that, Adam was just ready to go. He had this idea that spending forever over-analyzing every little thing was the sort of activity Maynard and Natali loved to engage in during their free time, but with all their lives on the line, hobbies would have to take a backseat. There were important things to do, not the least being keeping moving so that he didn't have to spend too terribly much time musing over all of their inevitable violent murders.

Yeah, better to think of happy things, finding Paulo and Cooper and everyone else. They could have one last hurrah or something. That might make things better,

Since the sea was on one side of them, that meant the opposite direction was obviously east. Therefore, Adam didn't really need to wait and orient himself, instead setting off. He made sure to keep his pace slow enough to not lose the others, though. Wouldn't do to ditch 'em by mistake.

At least walking kept him too occupied to start tapping the sword again.

((Adam Morgan continued in Broken Down))

Adam began to set off, and Maynard didn't want to lag too far behind. He hefted the dufflebag a few inches above the groud, letting the canvas straps fall to the crook of his elbow. He looked at the naginata again, and gingerly knelt down to pull it up from the sand.

"Uh...I guess if I sort of half-drag it with me and tell you if it's getting too much then I should be fine," he said, wrapping his fingers around the handle, powdered with sand grains. He glanced over at Natali - she looked remarkably calm, given the situation that they were in. A good thing. Nervous wrecks wouldn't make for the most efficient team.

He didn't have time to linger on the hypocrisy of such a thought before he began to set off as well. Maynard could see that Adam had slowed his pace slightly - he'd been much faster when originally approaching him - and thanked him silently for it. Checking that Natali was close by, he began to follow in the marks made by Adam's boots.

Gwen, Daniel, Ian, Juhan...I'll find all of you.

((Maynard Hurst continued in Broken Down))