Nothing Left to Say But Goodbye

[Cactus]

Mmmm...my head...what...the hell...

As consciousness made its way back into his being, Adam Dodd tasted dirt. The very first thing that went through his mind was the urge to spit out the dirt that had somehow made its way into his mouth. Wincing slightly as he dragged his face off the ground and wrenched the rest of his body into a sitting position. There was an intense haze that covered his head, and both body and mind were trying desperately to connect with one another. Blinking a few times, Adam wiped the dirt off of his face, and looked down at himself, trying to figure out just what was going on.

He'd been talked into coming on the school trip against his better judgement, but Izzy had suggested that it might make him feel a little more "even-tempered" to get out and used to being in large groups again. They'd gotten on the bus...or was it a plane...? Adam couldn't remember. The next thing he knew, he'd...

OH GOD.

Adam jumped almost a foot in the air from his sitting position, and into what was essentially a crouch. It all came flooding back to him, and he had the eerily acute sensation of déjà vu. Danya. He'd done it again. Slowly, Adam brought his fingers up to his neck, not even remembering having closed his eyes. Internally, he wished with every fraction of his being that he wouldn't feel the familiar smoothness of the terrorist's collar devices wrapped around his neck.

Shit.

But there it was. As clear as day. Adam reached around and felt the back of his neck...there it was again. It was certainly wrapped the whole way around. Snugly too, so he wouldn't even notice it unless he knew what it felt like from previous experience.

And oh, how lucky he was to have that prior experience.

It was somewhere around this point that Adam's hands began to shake. He stared at them as they did, looking with a strong sense of confusion at his shaking hands. Had he ingested something poisionous in the dirt? As he glared a hole into his hands, his eyes widened as his breathing started to become shallow and ragged. He had to force himself to take deep breaths, but even still, he was pushed down to his knees as he struggled to breathe. Fear overtook him, swooping over his entire body, with that same icy feeling that you'd get when dipping into a swimming pool for the first time. Hands still trembling, breathing still short, Adam fell onto his side, and grabbed his knees, falling into the fetal position.

By now, he knew exactly what the problem was. The rational part of his mind that retained a semblance of control over the rest of his body was screaming at him to get up, and not let the resurgance of his PTSD take hold of him. Sadly, though...it was too late for that. The rest of his body was in the full throes of an anxiety attack, and as he lay, clutching his knees in the fetal position, Adam Dodd began to cry.

Things had seemed almost too good to be true. He'd gotten a second chance at life when the horrific incident had occurred, and now...now, it was all for nothing. It was a typical 'bait 'n switch' kind of scenario. Someone out there; some deity of sorts had decided that ol' Dodd hadn't suffered enough the first go round. No, just as things were starting to get back to normal for him, he was finally feeling comfortable enough to go out in crowds, to talk to people with more than a passing hello...hell, he'd even begun sorta-kinda-almost-but-I'm-not-admitting-it seeing someone. He'd gone out on prom night, which he vowed that he wouldn't, had actually had a fun time stumbling through Guitar Hero 3, and he was finally beginning to leave his demons in the past...

...but it looked like the past had caught up with him.

Adam wasn't sure how much time passed as he sat on the ground, sobbing in the fetal position, but it had to be more than an hour. At least, in Adam's mind, it was too long. The voice in his head that had been screaming at him to get up wasn't making too much headway, and it almost seemed that the winner of Survival of the Fittest's first competition would be destined to die early and pitifully, a sallow shell of his former self.

Things seemed to go this way at least, until something caught Adam's eye. As he was up on what seemed to be a Lookout Point of sorts (a sick irony, as he'd begun last time at a similar location). A bird flew into his vision and circled around in front of him. It was amazing, really. The sight of an animal made him pause and collect himself. He'd seen very few, if any, the first time around, and it was a strange enough sight to see that he stopped quivering, and stopped crying. The bird circled a bit, and then actually flew down and landed right in front of where Adam was lying on the ground. Curious, he looked at the bird, and it looked straight back at him.

The bird was a beautiful bird, and was a deep reddish colour, with black flecks throughout it's feathers and two pale feet. It's beak was orange, and it peered at him throughout its eyes, tilting it's head after a moment. But it continued to look at him intently, almost burning a hole into his head with the gaze.

Adam forced himself to sit up, amazed that the bird was looking at him for as long as it had. It almost seemed to mock him with its tilted head, looking at him with an air of curiousity, as if to say "what the hell are you doing, you idiot?" Adam stared it right back in amazement as he wiped his eyes, and leaned in a little for a closer look.

The small bird still did not move, staring at him with those beady little eyes...

Those eyes...

The bird that sat in front of him, one eye was blue, and one eye was brown. It was something that was truly incredible. Such a phenomenon was rare at best, and to Adam, it almost seemed that it had to mean something. He was snapped out of his daze when the bird chirped at him, and jumped once in it's spot. Shaking his head a bit, Adam shoved all of his horrible feelings down inside of him, and stood up, looking at the bird the whole time while doing so. Shaking his head a little, Adam knelt down again, and leaned in again to the bird. While he felt silly doing so, he knew what he had to try.

"Do you...do you understand me?"

As he choked his words out, the sound of his voice obviously startled the small animal, and it jumped back once, chirped, and flew away, getting smaller into the distance with each passing second.

Cursing to himself, Adam felt silly. Of course the bird hadn't been able to understand him! It was a bird! Birds don't talk, they fly, they eat worms, and they shit on people! That was the way that things worked. Birds didn't sit down and have a beer with you. They weren't capable of understanding humans, and vice-versa. Scowling, Adam turned around and looked at the ground.

As his eyes scanned the ground and he saw the pack lying beside where he'd woken up, he suddenly understood exactly what had just occurred, and he whirled around to face the direction of the cliff that the bird had flown off from. There could be no other possibility. That bird HAD been something special, something unique. It couldn't talk, that much was obvious, but it had served a very special purpose, and it could only have come from one very special source.

Those eyes...

Looking out onto the cliff, Adam's eyes teared up again, but this time, they weren't those of fear, of anxiety. They were tears of thanks, tears of longing. Like when you have to say goodbye to an old friend. Those were the kind of tears that ran down his cheek now, and he knew that in a way, that was exactly what he was doing. Saying goodbye.

Looking out into the ocean beneath him, Adam looked down at the surf, and out at where the bird had flown away. A spontaneous chuckle erupted from him, and he wiped the tears from his eyes. Those eyes, they'd snapped him out of it. And that was exactly what they'd meant to do.

"Thank you...and goodbye..."

His words where only a whisper, but he knew that the intended recipient was hearing them loud and clear. And it was really only for his own benefit that he spoke them aloud, but it was the right thing to do at the time.

Looking down, he turned, and took a step back, then turned around and looked down at the pack on the ground. It resembled his own pack, but a number had been stencilled on the side of it, and it looked as though things had been added to it. Quickly, he opened up the pack, and saw the familiar supplies that Mr. Danya assigned to those he'd kidnapped. The food, the crackers, the water...Adam reached into his pack, all the way to the bottom, to see if he'd been assigned a death sentence or not. And as he pulled out a fairly wicked-looking switchblade, he grimaced. Knives weren't his thing. They never had been. In fact, Adam had never used a knife, to the best of his recollection, in the first go-round.

But this isn't the same...this isn't the same shit that I went through the first time...all that fighting, all that killing; and here I am, right back in the thick of things again. Amazing.

Weighing the knife in his hand, Adam shoved it in the right pocket of his hoody. This time, he was far more prepared for what lay ahead of him. That, if nothing else, could be his salvation. People were going to be freaking out, but as soon as Adam retained his mental faculties...he'd probably be able to handle things a hell of a lot better than he did the first time around.

Dressed a little better this time, too.

Shaking his head, Adam zipped the pack back up. The next few days were likely to be hell, but Adam had to lament to himself that it likely wouldn't be anything he hadn't seen before. There was nothing to do now except plunge himself in and try and manage to make it out of the hell that waited for him on the other side. Grimacing a little bit, he slung the pack around his back, and began to walk away from the tip of the cliff. As he did, he saw one of the cameras that had been half-heartedly hidden away, that were likely broacasting the whole thing to the entire world. Smirking a little, Adam walked right over to it. He knew that the world would be watching, and furthermore...he knew that Danya would be watching.

The déjà vu kicked in, and Adam smirked a little bit. He looked straight into the camera, and decided that if he was doomed, if he was completely and utterly fucked, like he thought he'd been last time, he may as well pick up right where he left off.

"Y'know what? The more things change, the more they stay the same, you son of bitch."

Taking out his switchblade, Adam sliced the wires of the camera, and ripped it free of its holster. Looking at it once more, Adam bit down on his tongue, and heaved the camera right off the cliff.

May as well hit the asshole right where it hurts, in the pocketbook.

As he turned around to walk out of the area, he mumbled out, to no one in particular:

"Boy, it feels just great to be home..."

Where he'd end up next - who knew? All Adam knew was that he was walking into the last days of the rest of his life, and all he was armed with was a knife. He felt naked, except this time, there was no Latino girl with a butter knife staring him down. This time, it was him with the knife, walking in to the virtual unknown.

((Continued in Pomme de Terre))

[Namira]

Urgh... must have drunk too much and crashed out. Think I missed the bed...

B33, Simon Wood felt grass against his face as he slowly woke up. He felt a number of awkward cricks in his body, as if he had been sleeping in an odd position. One in particular, one his neck, felt rather strange, almost as if... Simon's good hand crept upwards, and closed on metal. Simon's eyes snapped open.

He rolled over and sat up, wincing as his back protested, having spent some time on a rather uncomfortable ground. Simon paused for a moment, looking out to sea, wherever this was, it wasn't the Senior trip. No this was... ah. Now he remembered. Simon frankly wished his memory could have remained elusive and shrouded. He doubted he would sleep again on this island.

This is unbelievable...

Survival of the Fittest. It was real, it wasn't some super-realistic gameshow, it was actually happening. He was in the damn thing. Simon's first priority, and one that he didn't have to even think about was finding Madison Conner. The situation truly didn't matter, Simon wasn't going to lose what he had only found so recently. If it came to it, they could stick together, maybe even... No, suicide wasn't an option.

The first step on the plan of action was obviously to check out the weapon. Although Simon had no intention of killing any of his fellow classmates, there would be no sense in going out there without a weapon. Simon couldn't help but shake the feeling there would be those who decided the game was worth playing, it was best to be prepared. Going through his daypack, Simon extracted a small device which looked like a gun from a sci-fi film. It was small, and when Simon pulled the trigger experimentally a bright green beam of light emerged from the barrel. Simon guessed it was designed to blind people.

Non-lethal, but, on second thoughts, I prefer it to an actual gun.

Simon was glad he could hold it in one hand, otherwise he might have been in some real trouble. Simon, as he turned to leave, felt a familiar pang.

Now might not be the most opportune time to maintain my smoking resultion, I'm busy trying to stay alive.

Simon rummaged through his jacket pockets, quickly finding his cigarettes. However, the pack was empty. Simon rolled his eyes, and searched deeper, eventually finding a single crumpled - but smokable, cigarette. Unfortunately, Simon's fingers slipped and the small tube dropped, was by the wind, and trickled over the edge of the cliff.

'Dammit! Is this game conspiring to stop me even having a decent smoke!?" Simon darted to the cliff, and there, like the holy grail, caught on a outhrust rock, was the cigarette. Simon grinned, and retrieved it, flicking the dirt off absently. "Maybe I'm not so unlucky after all..." Simon went into his pockets again and pulled out his lighter. He tried to ignite it. Out of gas. Simon stopped and looked at the lighter, then laughed.

Heading inland, Simon knew in his heart he'd have precious little to laugh about over the next few days.

((Continued in Archangel))