Survival Of The Fittest

(Johnny Lancer continued from A Convoluted Conventicle)

((Slight GMing approved by, er, GM )

"Well, how'd it go?"

As Johnny Lancer stepped through the door, he knew his father would be there at the table. As a detective with the Highland Beach Police Department, Malcolm Lancer was a man of order and assertiveness, who wasn't going to let his son keep something from him.

"They uh, they don't really see me as being able to play tackle at that level. Don't think I have the leadership skills. Plus, I mean we all know that my vision will give me huge problems letting guys get by me on the weak side. So...."

Malcolm gave his son a quick glance, reading him, then breaking out into a grin. "So they offered it to you, I take it?"

And with that, Johnny let himself smile as well.

"Yeah, they did. I'll have to redshirt for a year probably, and I'm gonna be moving over to guard, but it looks like I'm in. I mean, they're no powerhouse, but I'll be playing college football."

The Lancers weren't exactly a family that would jump around and celebrate good news, so his father's wide grin would have to suffice. "Congratulations son. Really. I know your mother's going to be proud. I guess we've got an official Lancer alma matter now, huh?"

"Yeah, and I just wanted to say thanks too."

His father's shift in attitude was slight but noticeable, as if he knew what was coming. "Thanks for what, Jonathan?"

"Well, you know. They probably wouldn't even have considered me if it hadn't been for you and all..." Johnny shifted his weight uncomfortably. His father had the unfortunate tendency to make him feel ten years old on occasion.

Malcolm Lancer sighed. "Look Jonathan. Do you honestly think that they're making their scholorship decisions based on who played Tight End for them in 1981? Where's your head at?"

"I don't..."

"Look, your mother and I didn't get you that scholorship, Johnny. You did. Just like you've gotten your own high marks at school. Hell, you're 17 and you've finished that book of yours, even if you won't let us read it! You need to realize what you've accomplished, and what you can still do if you push yourself to it. You just need to stand up for yourself more. Stand out. I mean, I love Mark, but you know you let him lead you around a lot.

What about the school trip, are you going on that?"

"I dunno. Mark keeps bugging me about it but I've never exactly been the school spirit type."

"Look, you shouldn't go because Mark wants you to, or the football team wants you to. Personally, I think you should go because you've got a lot to celebrate. But you don't have to go just because I think you should either. Do you think you should go or not?"

He considered.

Malcolm Lancer nodded, returning to his work at the table. "You know that we're proud of you, no matter what. Look, just remember what I said, Jonathan. You're coming into your own. I can feel it."



He couldn't cry. Tears would be giving up, admitting defeat. And there was still hope. People had survived worse, he's sure that even on this island they had. And they'd gotten out of the graveyard in time, without blowing up, and that had to mean something. Didn't it?

So Johnny Lancer just bit his lip and held the tears back as he half supported, half dragged the girl he'd come to

Oh for Christ's sake, just use the word!

...the girl he'd come to love out of the jungle, knowing that they had to stop soon. He'd grabbed the last shirt out of his back and she was pressing it against her stomach, but it hadn't seemed to staunch the flow. And just as he was about to lay her down and try to treat her on the muddy jungle floor, he noticed the foliage rapidly thinning around him.

Then they were out and just away from a long coastline, a few yards of grass giving way to shimmering white sands stretching down the shore. The only sounds were of the ocean and the birds overhead, and the nearest body was a good ways down the shore, the waves lapping gently at their splayed legs.

C'mon Dawn. You're doing good.

She was still moving under her own power, and Johnny led her just a couple more feet to the beach area. Laying Dawn down in the sand and motioning to her to keep the shirt against her wound, he dumped his bag upside down, scattering its contents across the sand. The first aid kit banged open, revealing a mass of medical items, most of which he had no idea how to utilize. What the hell do you do to stop a bullet wound? You couldn't just put a bandage on it.

Tweezers? Was that it? He just needed to pull the bullet out and she'd be fine?

Johnny grabbed them, and alcohol, and an assortment of bandages, and scrambled back to where she lay. He knew how much pain she was probably in, even if she couldn't tell him. But he couldn't just let her-

No. NO.

Tearing through the bag again, the syringe and small bottle labeled "Morphine" caught his eye. Fumbling, his hands shaking, he pulled them out and eyeballed the liquid, at once knowing that he had no clue how much he was supposed to use or where he was going to inject it and at the same time realizing that it didn't really matter, because he had to just do what he could.

Then he was back over to Dawn, grabbing his notebook and scribbling a ridiculously quick note. He had to keep her going, keep her in reality. He couldn't just let her fade away.

going to give you a shot
then try to get the bullet out

((Dawn Beckworth continued from A Convoluted Conventicle))
((OOC: Just wanted to let everybody know, unless either D/N or I say otherwise, I'd like for this to stay as a private between the two of us. We'll be finished soon, don't worry ))

Dawn ran and ran and ran. She wanted to get away from it all, but she couldn't outrun the pain. The blood was pouring from her stomach now, and her legs were starting to fail. She didn't know where she was going, or how much longer she could ruin.

And sure enough, it happened. She felt her knees buckle, and as she began to fall forward, she felt Johnathan's hands catch her. He gently lowered her to the ground, but his face was anything but gentle. His mouth was twisted into a grimace, and she could tell from his eyes that he was trying not to cry.

The events around her were starting to lose their sharpness- everything but the pain, that was. She saw him pass a shirt to her, and she pressed it down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. It wasn't working.

Johnny... You shouldn't have to do this. None of us should have to worry about saving a life, or about how we're going to survive a bullet wound. We're just fucking kids, we shouldn't have to deal with this shit!

And all at once, the tears started to flow again. She was remembering other times- times spent out in the woods, the bright sun shining down on her face. She'd sit there, underneath the trees, drawing everything for hours. It was so beautiful in the woods, so peaceful. But more than that, it was Dawn's place. In the woods, it didn't matter if you couldn't hear. The animals and the trees and the sun and the river cared nothing about that.

The pain was what brought her back to reality. It was excruciating, and it reminded her that she wasn't in the woods anymore, she was on some godforsaken island, and she was bleeding to death. She could admit it to herself now- there was no point in denying it. The wound was too bad. Dying was a horrible thing, but if she had Johnathan by her side... perhaps it wouldn't be too bad. Perhaps he could make it bearable.

He came back to her, medical supplies in his hands and a worried look in his face. It was that look that defined the whole reason she loved him. It was utterly selfless- he had not a care in the world for what happened to him. For all that they might think of him, for the monster they might see him as, Johnathan Lancer, at his heart, was nothing more than a hapless romantic. And Dawn loved him for that.


going to give you a shot
then try to get the bullet out

The message on his notebook was simple, but he was too naive. Too full of hope. It was too late for her, she knew that. Her strength was fading fast, and Dawn was sure she'd be dead soon. She would make sure her last moments served a purpose.

Taking his notebook, and summoning all the strength she had, she scribbled down a message. As she did, thoughts filled her head. Thoughts of what could have been, what might have been, what should have been. Thoughts of her and Johnny in school, writing love notes to each other. Thoughts of her and Johnny dancing. Thoughts of her and Johnny making love. Thoughts of her and Johnny... being in love.

John, she wrote. I'm sorry. It's too late. I wish there was more time for me and you, but... Here the writing faltered, as Dawn began to cry again. She thought she had no more tears left, that she had cried them all out, but she was wrong.

but... but I love you so much.

And at that moment, with no regard for pain, or what Johnny was trying to do, or where they were, Dawn kissed Johnathan. It was the best kiss of her life. And her last.

When she kissed him, he couldn't hold the tears back anymore. It was raw, it was bloody, and it was so beautiful that there was nothing he could do but start crying alongside her. And when she finally broke the kiss after what seemed like forever, she was still crying but he saw a look of absolute peace and contentment on her face.

Even so, it was only when he read the message that he knew she was really about to die.

No.

NO, NO, NO.

She couldn't give up, she couldn't just let it go.

She is strong

Fuck you, voice. Fuck you. You don't know...

For fuck's sakes, Badass Johnny! You. Love. Her.

You can't stop what's coming.

She needs you to be strong too.

Dawn.

Johnny dropped his haphazard and ridiculously inadequate collection of medical supplies on the sand beside him, still crying.

He saw the contents of his bag scattered along the sand, and he realized briefly just what a beautiful area they were in. Amongst them, a thick bundly of papers flapped slightly in the sea breeze.

[font=courier]The Everdreamer
by Johanthan Lancer[/font]

"You'll be fine there, Johnny. Again, didn't you always say that you didn't believe in death?"

Of course. He shook his head slightly as he turned to Dawn. And here on an island filled with 200 kids fighting to the death, it took more of his strength and willpower than anything else to manage a small smile and nod to her.

Why, tell me the reasons why
Try, still I don't understand

Memories flashed of his brother Brian, who'd blown his brains out after accidently shooting him when he was 15 and Johnny was only 10. Of his thoughts on death and mortality, the books, the stories, the fantasy lands and games he'd played with Mark after the accident. Many of them had taken place in a series of worlds he'd since polished and turned into his own story, the book he'd just finished a couple weeks ago. He'd called them The Everlands, and his main charcters were those selected ones, The Everdreamers, who had passed from this world not into death or one heaven or hell, but into new and alternate worlds. There was no real death, was there? Just what lay beyond this reality.

He just wished he'd given her a chance to read it when she first took notice.

Will I ever feel this again
Blue sky, I'll meet you in the end

Acting quickly, Johnny wrote beneath Dawn's words. There was so much he wanted to say, but he had so little time left. And the words came out in a blur. One last ironic thought occured to him, that he probably couldn't have ever spoken those words without fumbling them or stammering and stopping halfway through.

You saw my book, I wish you'd been able to read it. The Everdreamer, it's about a girl who finds she can travel to places, realities beyond death, series of infinite worlds, possibilities.
Call it heaven or whatever.

I love you, Dawn.

Wait for me. I'll see you again soon."

Free them, free the memories of you
Free me, and rest ‘till I'm with you

He held her hand so that she could read it. Then, as he knew her strength was failing, he folded her hand into his, and held her close.

I'll never forget as you lay there and watched me
Accepting the end
I knew you were scared
You were strong I was trying
I gave you my hand
I said it's okay letting go time to leave here

You saw my book, I wish you'd been able to read it. The Everdreamer, it's about a girl who finds she can travel to places, realities beyond death, series of infinite worlds, possibilities.
Call it heaven or whatever.

I love you, Dawn.


Wait for me. I'll see you again soon.

Dawn read it over and over, and it was beautiful. They would see each other again, Dawn knew that. If there was any good in this world, any god, any heaven.. they would see each other again. But Dawn didn't want to see Johnny as soon as he seemed to want to see her.

Didn't he realize he had his whole life ahead of him? She might not, no, but he did. He could go on to do great things, Dawn knew- get that novel published for one. He could do a lot of things alone... but he could have done a lot more with her.

Into her mind floated the image of her killer, John Rizzolo. Could there have been some way her death could have been prevented? And how did John feel about it? Because in the end he was just another kid, same as her. He didn't ask to get put on this island. And in a way, he was just as dead as her. Anybody willing to kill their own classmates had to be.

No, she couldn't hate him. She couldn't even hate Danya, the bastard who put her on this island. She only had a few moments left on this island, and she was not going to spend them wasted on mindless rage.

She pulled out her pen, feeling as if she was carrying the whole world in her hands. She was growing incredibly sluggish, she felt it. It was very near the end, and the next time she closed her eyes was the last time she ever would.

All these words came to her, a spinning vortex of thoughts, hundreds of things she should write down and tell him. But at the same time, Dawn knew words had never really been her style. A deaf girls knows most about how little words actually matter towards communication.

But these words... these were the most important. She didn't want to leave Johnny there, stranded waiting to see what she'd write, so she scribbled down one thing underneath the comment about the Everdreamer: I want to tell you

There were so many things, though! How she loved him. How she wanted him to be successful. How she wanted him to be happy. How she wished that she didn't have to die, not because she didn't want to die, but because she didn't want him to have to watch her die.

And as she thought this, she felt another wave of tiredness wash over her. She closed her eyes, just for a moment. Just to think over what to tell Johnny.

STUDENT G73- DAWN BECKWORTH- DECEASED

I want to tell you

Dawn had died before she was able to finish her message.

That had been about two or three hours ago.

After she died, he'd just sat over the body for a time. He'd been crying, but the tears had given way to a horrible sense of resignation. She was gone. He'd tried to protect her, and she was gone. Had everything they'd wanted been for nothing? All that they'd wanted to say, to do together. They were in love, some sort of love, but it was REAL, and now she was gone and he was alone again. Even the fucking voice had gone away.

For a while, he'd sat down on the beach, watching as the ocean retreated and the tide began to roll out. He'd read through her sketchbook, seeing the beauty that she'd seen in nature. Then he'd looked again at his book, reading through it for what he sensed was the last time and wondering if he could really believe in such nonsense. No universal force cruel enough to throw them on this island could allow them happiness after death, could they?

Not a soul had appeared nearby since he'd entered the area, and he figured that there couldn't be that many of his classmates still alive. As he had done back in his first few days on the island, he'd cherished the loneliness. He'd walked a bit, down the sands of the beach. The body he'd seen earlier was that of Eicca Hietala and nearby was Clive Maxwell. Good people, from what he knew of them. They'd been killed, probably by someone like Lex, or Riz. Or any of the other killers on the island.

By the trees were the bodies of Heath... something, and a girl he didn't know. And James Martinek. A guy he knew, a guy who, like Johnny, had a girl he loved on this island. Apparently they didn't die together. Were James and Bree together now? Did it matter? They'd had dreams, hopes, friends, all thrown away.

Like Dawn. But she was his dream. She was what gave him hope. She was so much more than his friend. So now Johnny just sat back down by her body. He leaned back against a large boulder where, unbeknownst to him, a hero named Neil Sinclair had once decided he was going to beat this game and escape the island. And he thought of the past, what he'd done in the years and days that led him to this point.

So what now? Maybe there was only one thing left to do.

How cliched, Badass Johnny. You think that's what she wants you to do?

Oh, glad to hear you again Mr. Voice, or Mark. Where'd you get off to? And hey, mind telling me if you're still on this island or not, if that is you?



Actually, I think I'm dead.

What----?

Christ, you're not real, leave me alone. So how'd you die, Voice?

Eh, I fucked up, I think. It happens. But enough about me, let's talk about you! So, is this the moment where you predictably stick the shotgun in your mouth, Johnny?

At some point since her death, he'd gone through the case that the gun had came in, making sure that the shotgun was fully loaded. Now, he grasped it firmly in both hands. A short-barrelled gun, remarkably easy to turn on yourself. A lot easier than his brother had done. He saw their belongings, scattered across the coast. Her sketchbook, his book, lay side by side in the sand. A deaf girl and a scarred guy, both of whom had lived through their writings in different ways.

Moving back next to Dawn, he knelt down next to her. She was still beautiful, peaceful in death. He kissed her dead cheek and the tears started to come again. Then he straightened, and turned the gun towards himself.

Oh, you fucking idiot. I've been TRYING to help you, you know! Now, you didn't take the path I wanted you to do, but hey-

Shut up. He fit the barrel of the gun into his mouth, aiming upwards, his hand reaching down to the trigger.

You've come all this way, and NOW you're going to take the easy way out? Think of her, goddamnit!

His eyes looked down at Dawn, wanting her to be the last thing he saw. In the corner of his vision was her last note to him, on a single sheet of paper.

I want to tell you

What would she have told him? Would she want him to die like this?

Would she, Johnny?





No.

Shutting his eyes tightly, caught in a moment between life and death, he pulled the shotgun out of his mouth, and glanced down at the body of the girl beside him.

I love you, Dawn.
I'll see you again soon.

He would. He was now somehow sure of that. He was going to die on this island, yes. But perhaps he still had something left to do. Some reason he was still alive.

Johnny got to his feet, looking out at the ocean. He could still help people. People like Noah, or the other girl from the graveyard, or that Velvet girl, or anyone else still alive. And if he saw that fucker Rizzolo....

I think you've finally come into your own, Badass Johnny. I'm proud, seriously I am.

That's when Johnny Lancer was suddenly overcome with the sense that he was being watched, and he turned around.

"Lex?"

(Alexis Machina continued from Popularity)

After claiming her second bounty Lex had hoped that walking would shake the feeling of having to vomit out her insides, but as Murphy would have it, she couldn't. About an hour after leaving the field of flowers she came to an abrupt halt, kneeling over and erupting a disgusting puddle of acidic spew onto the trail beneath her. Evidently the stale bread and crackers had finally taken their toll on her demanding digestive system, for the expelling of her stomach acids took a good five minutes, a grotesque wretching noise accompanying each and every hurl.

Leaving the poison behind after regaining her composure Lex continued down the trail, aimless. She felt slightly more relieved but still quite gross after the endeavour, and was running short on food and water. Her stomach churned incessantly as she thudded along, and while the temptation to devour her remaining rations was astounding her superior id managed to resist the urge. She was positive that her intelligence was the only thing she had to thank for still being alive. She never lingered in one place too long so as not to divert attention to herself, and her rationing skills (until now, anyway) had worked fairly well. She didn't have much else going for her, either; without intelligence she'd have been a carbon copy of Branca.

On that note, she forgot to thank her for the lovely present she'd left her.

Lex gave the Kel-Tech a look over as she continued marching down the trail, poring over how different the latter half of her stay on the island had been from the former. In the last four or five days she'd managed to kill four of her classmates, and her nagging subconscious didn't fail to remind her that it wouldn't stop there. There was no other way for her to go but forward. She didn't regret any of the murders she'd committed, nor was she particularly affected by any of them anymore. After hearing of Keiji's death on the announcement almost a week ago and Kyrie's mere hours before she'd effectively shedded any connection she had to the graduating class of Southridge High. The only way to win was to take out anyone and everyone in her way. This was the Survival of the Fittest after all, and she intended to prove it.

They all deserved it, anyway. Pricks.

Had anyone else heard her train of thought they'd have most likely chuckled at the idea of Lex being the "fittest" of anything - as a matter of fact, so would she - but the time for being the satanic glutton that everyone knew and hated on principle was long gone. This was her game now, and she intended to make the most of it. More than anything Lex persevered because the idea of losing the game to selfish, ungrateful assholes like them was so bloody irritating that she couldn't allow it to happen. She wouldn't.

As the trail wound down towards the coastline, ironically, Lex caught a glimpse of someone she considered one of the most royal assholes she'd ever met...only she didn't expect him to be on the verge of killing himself. Johnny Lancer knelt quietly over the body of Dawn Beckworth, the faint sound of sobs audible over the quiet rolling waves that crashed against the island. A couple weeks ago even her tainted heart might have considered the sight tragic...now she just found it corny.

Her gun raised, she took two steps forward, at which point Johnny stood up and stared out over the ocean. Part of her silently wondered whether or not he was prepared for what was coming, but the answer didn't exactly matter. She knew what she had to do.

As if on cue, Johnny turned around.

"Good guess," she indicated, her eyes locking fiercely onto his weak and weighted visage. "Guess both of you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, huh?"

Without giving him the chance to respond she depressed the trigger of the kel tech, emptying the remaining ten or so bullets in Johnny's direction. The second clip finally came to a void with a solid 'click', informing her that she'd run out of ammunition. To her knowledge she only had two clips left for the SMG, but along with the rest of her arsenal she found it impossible to worry about anything like that now.

Her eyes carefully scanned the bullet-riddled body of Johnny Lancer to make sure he couldn't attack her with his shotgun, and satisfied with the outcome of her endeavour she once more decided to make haste, turning this time into the jungle and setting off. She stared back only for a second to catch the disfigured grimace of excruciating pain on his face.

For the first time in a long time, Lex smiled.

(Alexis Machina continued in Demon Days)

"Lex?"

Johnny didn't even have a chance to react or say anything else before she spoke, gave an awful, ugly smirk, and depressed the trigger.

The bullets flew at him, around him, into him. He stumbled back as one bounced off his hip, ripping flesh and cracking bone as it did. One cut a hot groove in his left side, and a third tore a hole in the arm above the elbow. Then two blasted into his chest, one hitting a rib and exiting sideways, another lodging itself nicely in his lung.

It had taken the briefest of moments. Afterwards he stood stupified for a second, swaying in the breeze, the only sounds the cawing of birds that had been disrupted by the bullets and and the heavy, clomping footsteps of Lex's retreating form. Then he slowly sank to his knees.

She was almost gone from the clearing. She'd go off, try to kill someone else, like she did with Noah's friend. Like him. But he somehow knew that she wouldn't win. He realized, in a strange moment of extremis, how weak people like her and Riz really were. How cowardly. And he felt somehow better.

Johnny looked down and saw his blood mixing with the white sand.

Don't worry Johnny, it's almost done. You've got just one more choice. One more chance.

What do you do?

Be strong. To the end.

Slowly, agonizingly, still on his knees, he brought the shotgun back up.

"No......you.....NO!"

He fired, a wild shot that went nowhere near Lex's retreating form but just drowned out all other noise. Chest burning, he managed to pump the shotgun and fire again, and once more, not caring where he was aiming at anymore and not realizing that his inarticulate yell had degenerated into a hacking, bloody cough.

Then the shotgun was just too heavy for his left arm to hold up anymore, and it fell limply to his side, his right finger still resting on the trigger.

That's it, Johhny.

Strange. The voice was still Mark's, and yet it echoed with another, softer voice. Whatever, he'd been having these mindfucks for days now, what was one more wacky twist tossed in towards the end?

Just wait.

{{continued from a Convoluted Convecticle}}

Noah stormed through the jungle at a hurried pace. The rage had worn off a while ago, and as it did he realized that he had just up and left a potentially injured Johnny and Dawn behind. For a few moments after, though, he wondered why he should even bother following after them. They'd just die like the others, becoming just two more notches on the belt of some aspiring player. Then that player would get killed by another player, and that player would get killed by another player, and so on, until there was only one player left. Any idealistic hope he had of beating the system died with Kyrie and Sheppard. There was no hope for survival but to just give in. Become another player. To throw away your humanity and kill anyone that was in your way so that you could survive. How easy it could be. He'd just find someone with a gun and get the jump on him or her, run them through with the harpoon and take their gun. Then he'd have a fighting chance of hunting down Lex. And once Lex was dead, why stop there? He was so close to the end, he might as well just go all out and mop up the rest of the competition

He stood there for a while, mulling the situation over in his head. Finally he came to a decision. Fuck that shit. He'd rather die than become yet another one of those indiscriminate killers running around the island. He'd rather keep his humanity, thank you very much.

But then again, it's infinitely easier to just SAY you're going to do something, isn't it?

Noah shook his head and turned around, heading the opposite direction as he tried to find out where Johnny and Dawn went. He felt guilty for leaving them by themselves, and he could work this shit out another time. And thus he spend a rather long time trudging through the jungle, wondering if he was really going the right direction, until he encountered a break in the trees, and beyond them, an impressive beachline. Well, it WOULD be impressive if it wasn't for all the dead bodies everywhere.

He also encountered something else.

"LEX!!" It was honestly the dumbest thing he could possibly do, but he couldn't help himself once he saw what Lex was doing, and what Lex was doing was riddling Jonathan Lancer with bullets. He broke into a sprint as Lex disappeared into the brush, only stopping once he passed Johnny, a moment of confliction catching him before he turned back around. Johnny looked horrible, with at least four visible gunshot wounds, two of them in fatal places. Nearby, he caught sight of Dawn lying nearby, though it was clear that she was already dead. He didn't know if Lex was the one that killed her, but that wasn't important right now.

He felt sorry for Johnny, having to watch Dawn die right in front of her. And now Lex had to show up and pull this shit. As he pulled the first aid kit out of his bag, hoping that by some miracle he could somehow cure a gunshot wound to the chest, he felt he had to say something. Anything.

"Jesus, man. You look like shit."

That probably wasn't it.

There's a pain within
that I can't define
There's an empty space
where your love used to shine
From the night we met
till the day you died
Do you think I wished,
do you still believe I tried?

All too soon we were divided
and life had just begun

He'd probably only been kneeling there a few seconds, watching himself bleed out and wondering why he wasn't just flying back and dying with a grunt like in the movies, when Noah Jacobs of all people appeared in the area, seemed to head out after Lex, then turned around to him.

See what I'd meant when I'd told you to wait, Johnny?

Wait just a little longer...

Ugh. That weird echo was still there too.

"Hey Noah, uh....."

And why the hell was his voice suddenly sounding so strange? Oh. Right.

He was trying to form words, but failing, not realizing how much he'd have to concentrate if he wanted to say anything.

"Dawn, she....... Riz. Uh....... Lex, she....."

...Dawn."

Will you revive from the chaos in my mind
where we still are bound together?

Will you be there waiting by the gates of dawn
when I close my eyes forever?

Noah was picking through his pack for a the medical kit, then looking at him with a look that told Johnny he was just now getting to appreciate the nature of the injuries.

"Jesus, man. You look like shit."

Johnny looked at him, realizing suddenly how he'd probably looked to Dawn when he'd bumbled over to her trying to save her just moments ago. Just, y'know, except for the whole love thing and all. This struck him as suddenly funny. No. It was damn funny, and although he couldn't really laugh, he gave the other boy a grin. He realized that that probably looked weird to Noah, but outside of a burning sensation in his chest area, he was feeling more numb that in in pain right now.

He worked himself to speak, trying to get words out. "Thanks. We're, you, we're... not them. Good people. Shit.... shit happens."

Johnny spent more time than he would have thought possible removing his finger from the trigger of the shotgun, and he raised the gun off the ground and held it forward a bit, offering it.

"Here." He dropped it, just getting too damn heavy to hold in one hand. "There's a, there's a case by my bag. Bullets n' stuff. Lex, Lex..."

He was gasping to breathe now, and his chest had gone beyond burn and into pain. Where the hell were those pain receptors that were doing wonders on the rest of his body? There was a horrible scratching feeling down there now, splinters of bullet and bone digging into his lungs...

"she went...

...filling them with blood.

FUCK! That way."

He raised his left arm slightly to point in the general area, although it felt oddly limp and useless, like it belonged to someone else. See, THAT was how the rest of him was supposed to be feeling.

Oh, just get what you need to say out there, Johnny.

"Noah...

Maybe he'd just pass on what he'd tried to do, even if he'd failed. Had he failed?

You did everything you could, Johnny. And sorry to sound like an afterschool special this late in the game, but that's the important part."

You did, Johnny.

""Be strong. Go on. Uh...."

I belong to you, you belong to me
That's the way things are always meant to be

Like the morning star, and the rising sun
You convey my life, and forgive me what I've done

"Gonna stay with her."

Well, it's not like there was much else he was going to do.

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

As Noah left the area, Johnny allowed himself a small smile, and wished him luck. Thoughts seemed to race through his head as if they were all in a despearate hurry. Those he'd known and gotten to know, and how they'd all be dead soon enough. He thought of cowards like Lex and Riz, and how they'd probably wouldn't realize how wrong they'd been until too late.

And he thought briefly of Danya.

Screw Danya.

Yeah, screw him. There was no winning in this game, although maybe finally figuring that out was a victory in and of itself.

And well Johnny, that's it. No more choices or chances. You've stretched it to the end I'm afraid.

Eh, that was OK, he guessed.

More than OK

Except for the damn voices, but he wouldn't have to worry about them much longer. No, now if he could just see...

He tried to move from his kneeling position, and instead just pitched onto his side, staring out at the ocean. Funny. Since his brother's death he'd written, designed fantasy around the "next life". He'd never realized it was something he'd inevitably confront, at least until he'd seen the girl he loved leave this one.

Save me
Reverse how I'm thinking of you
Every step I take
brings me closer
Closer to forever,
with you.

His last meeting with his father. Had he made them proud?

You know the bloody answer to that one.

You do...

Then he flopped onto his back, feeling his breathing slow, and he turned his head one more time.

All too soon we were divided,
and life had just begun

See you around, Badass Johnny...

I want to tell you...

And he saw her, and it hit him, and it all seemed to turn to white.

Will you revive
from the chaos in my mind
where we still are bound together?

And now....

Will you be there
waiting by the gates of dawn
when I close my eyes
forever?

B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED

Noah left the dead Dawn and the soon-to-be-dead Johnny as he strode off into the jungle, shotgun in hand. There was no point in trying to save Johnny; he was too far gone, and Johnny knew that too. Instead he had wordlessly transferred the various things he needed from Johnny's pack into his own. Bullets, the shotgun manual, his first aid kit and any uneaten rations. As he finished packing he had grabbed hold of the shotgun, throwing the pack over his shoulder.

"Well, I gotta go." He said to Johnny. "See ya." What else was there to say? Sorry I left you behind instead of helping to fend off Lex and her submachine gun with my mighty harpoon? Under different circumstances, he would've found that thought hilarious. Captain Ahab hunting the White Whale.

There was nothing he could've done, though. If it wasn't Lex that killed Johnny, it would've been someone else. Johnny. Dawn. Himself. They were already dead; they were just waiting for it to happen. They were just prey for the killers.

If wasn't for them, this wouldn't have happened...

Bobby. Lenny. Harry. Riz.

Lex.

White Whale.

Holy Grail.

{{continued elsewhere}}