Survival Of The Fittest

There the soldiers, in the sunlight
Kill the center of a man, endless suicide
By the night light, infrared sky
Is the holstered, bridled child spinning around the flames.

That's funny. I don't...remember falling asleep. Aren't I...I'm supposed to be somewhere! But ...where?

The first moments in Survival of the Fittest for Male Student #51 were filled with disorientation and confusion. Like most students, he was confused as to where he was, who had brought him there, and how, and things were foggy to him at best. As he opened his eyes, he was struck with how it seemed to be either early morning or late afternoon, as the sun was in a middling state of rising and falling - at this point, he couldn't tell which. Eyes adjusting to the poor light, the student pulled himself into a sitting position, and glanced around, slightly confused. Taking in his surroundings, he saw that essentially, he was at the very bottom of what looked like an old quarry, or a sand and rock pit.

"...in one...enormous...sandbox? This is either the most ridiculous practical joke in history, or I've been kidnapped and put in some terrorist's idea of a fun little game."

The sarcasm dripped from his voice, which seemed to be expressive and almost maniacal in a way, even though he was speaking to no one in particular. As the teen raised his arm to stretch out his neck, however, his eyes and brow furrowed in confusion as he felt the metallic collar around his neck. Raising an eyebrow, he perplexedly ran his fingers around the device, trying to figure out what it was. This, of course, was when his memories came flooding back to him as the anesthetic that he'd been given was finally beginning to wear off. The realization hit him like the proverbial load of bricks, though horror wasn't the emotion that he was feeling right now. In fact, it was more disappointment than anything.

"Aww, man. Why the hell am I always right about these blasted things!? I make one little sarcastic remark and it comes bac k to bite me in the bum. Damn."

Each is loved now, And all remembered
By the mask they wore years before the future
And the horse falls in the smoke filled riot
The center of a child grows a new disguise

So here it was that Male Student #51 sat in the dirt, realizing his predicament with the same shock and awe as any other student, though not feeling tremendously moved or horrified by it. At this point, a speaker crackled to life, and a man's voice began to start speaking out of it.

"A speaker? Where're they hiding that?"

The confused remark went unanswered from the rocks beside him, but the student didn't care. Now, he was too busy listening to the man's voice, trying to figure out just how over-his-head he truly was. The man seemed to be the sadistic leader of this program, and if the student was correct, his name was probably Mr. Danya, and this was probably the infamous 'Survival of the Fittest', where the strong died, the weak died, and the lucky ones were the only people who walked out alive. This frustrated Student #51 a bit, as he'd really been looking forward to that graduation trip. Things'd been so mundane at home, but he was enjoying that. After what he'd been through in the past little while, mundane life was fine with him, and he was really just looking for some R&R, perhaps some fraternizing with the opposite sex...

But as he listened to the announcement, he began to realize that things were dramatically more grave than he was probably willing to accept. The man on the speaker was listing off names of people who were presumably dead, killed by other students. This presented a problem to the teen, as he wasn't necessarily a social outcast by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew that some of the more cliquey groups probably wouldn't have much of an issue protecting their own and forcing everyone else...out.

"Well sucks to your assmar then, Piggy. We're gonna have a WONDERFUL time on this unexpected detour of a grad trip, aren't we? Ugh."

Again, he seemed to speak to no one in particular, but again he showed his disgust at the situation he now found himself in. Of course, as the announcement finished and the boy let all of the information sink in, something seriously bothered him, though it was lodged deep in the back of his mind, and he couldn't quite remember just what it was. Something that the man had said...was a bad omen.

And where are the songs from the sane minds?
And where are words from the sound mouths?
I can't understand how they silence the voices

That say no

Oh no, bad omens! I'd better not start showing signs of any kind of STD or anything, that'd just be the topping on this unpleasant sundae of a day.

Grumbling to himself, he furrowed his brow and began to drag himself up out of the sand. It was bad enough that he'd seemingly passed out on the ground where ants could manage to get to him, but he sighed at the fact that he was very likely sunburned for being out in the open where the sun could get to him.

"Lousy bad-omen STD sundae...here you go sir, here's your choice of toppings. You can have herpes, gonnorhea, stigmata, AIDS...pick your poison!"

As he stood up, stretching his neck and arms out, the student became slightly disoriented, moaning a bit as he struggled to find his balance. As he did, he couldn't help but wonder why he was feeling so scattered. It was a feeling that he hadn't felt in such a long time, and the bizarre things wandering through his head seemed like unwelcome houseguests that smell bad and eat all your food.

"Unwelcome, indeed...what the hell is going on he-"

Finally, it dawned on him. Things seemed to slide back into perspective all at once, and he swore aloud as he realized what about the announcement had bothered him so.

First of all, I've gotta say, you people have really upped the ante from the first day and gotten the lead out. I'm pretty impressed. We had nearly twenty kills yesterday! How 'bout that? Well, on with the deaths then. Tenth to die yesterday morning was Karl Van Buren...

"Oh, shit."

It's a new day, in the old life
He looks healthy with a tan on the white sheath
Across the table, where the blood dries
Where infinity will greet these filthy confines

Immediately, the teen looked around, panicking a little bit. Glancing around the area, he saw that his pack was on the ground about two feet away from him, and he fell to his knees beside it, and stared rifling through the pack. He removed any and everything, including things he hadn't even remembered bringing, like some crackers, water, and a nightstick, of all things. After he tore through the pack, he finally pulled out what he'd been looking for from the bottom of the bag. It was a small black bag, usually used for holding shavers, toothbrushes, and other odds and ends. Fumbling with the zipper, the shaky student tried to unzip the bag, causing it to drop into the sand once. Cursing again, he picked it back up and unzipped it again, and set it down, going through it feverishly. Finally, he pulled out two small bottles, and his heart sank. Holding the bottles up, he saw that they were not as he had left them.

They were empty.

Closing his eyes in a sorrowful sense of defeat, the student brought his hand to his temple and looked at the sand, shaking his head. This was it. The people who'd sent him here knew all about him, and they'd sealed his fate. They'd basically eliminated every chance that the student had of getting out alive. Tossing the bottles into the dirt, he picked up his small black bag and looked through it. Now that he knew what was going to happen - what was already happening? Now, he didn't even know what to do.

"Aww, man. This is just stupendous. Fucking stupendous."

As he was about to toss the small black bag away (what use was it to him now?), something small and coloured caught his eye in the bottom of the bag. Eyes lighting up, the student grabbed the small object from the bottom of the bag. Holding it up to his face, he saw that it was indeed a small pill, and he knew from the colouring and the writing on the pill itself that it was one dosage of a medication known as Abilify, or Aripiprazole. Wasting no time, the student grabbed one of the water bottles from the ground and took the pill, sighing a bit as he did.

I suppose this means that I get to be a real boy for just a little bit longer. But unlike Pinocchio, my wooden appendage isn't growing every time I tell a lie. Fucking hell, man, what does that even mean!?

And where are the songs from the sane minds?
And where are words from the sound mouths?
I can't understand how they silence the voices

That say no
That say no

Sighing with frustration, the student put back the contents of the pack, and stood up. Things were most certainly on a downward spiral for the boy. Of the two medications, the one that he had managed to take was a powerful antipsychotic that was usually described to combat psychotic behaviour that was usually attributed to schizophrenia or severe cases of bi-polar disorder. The other was a drug called Tegretol, which was generally used to curb manic episodes. The problem here? The student had just come to the realization that he'd been unconscious for almost two days. In those two days, he'd gone without those medications, and they were beginning to weaken within his system and break down.

"How the heck did I manage to sleep for two whole days?! That, in itself, is ridiculous!"

This obviously presented a serious problem for this student, as once the medications broke down, the symptoms of his illness would begin to recur. And frankly, there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it.

"If you can't beat 'em...join 'em? But who's them? Is them me? I can't really join myself, because I'm already me. I suppose I'll have to figure that one out later."

After mumbling out loud to nobody in particular, he slung the pack around his back, and picked up the nightstick, examining it closely. He'd never seen one up-close before, and he finally clued in that it was his assigned weapon.

"A nightstick? Awww, boo. How'm I supposed to protect myself with this? I'm not the Big Boss Man or anything, and short of using the Boss Man Slam on everyone, something tells me I'm really in a world of hurt, here."

It's a new day, in the old life
In the silence of the absence

Where are the songs from the same minds?
And where are words from the sound mouths?
I can't understand how they silence the voices
That say no

Grimacing, the student put the nightstick in the pocket of his khakis, and began to wander out of the sand pit. Evidently, a lot had happened since he'd been out, and the student couldn't help but wonder how his acquaintances and friends were doing. Some were likely dead, others probably in pain, but the student knew that even if he found some people, joining a group would be a bad idea.

What happens in a couple of days, when the Abilify wears off? I'm already going half-loopy as it is here. The requisite dose is two pills, and I took one, so who knows if I've even got that long...oh, man. Even when I find some friendly faces, I don't have that long, and I don't...I don't want to hurt anyone.

As he wandered into what looked to be a jungle, the student saw a camera pointing down at him from a tree, and confusedly stepped over to examine it. It was a regular old camera, but seemed to be mounted from the tree. Strangely, there seemed to be several of them within the jungle, almost too numerous to be a random occurrance.

I was going to say - since when do cameras grow on trees?

Tapping the camera with his nightstick, the student blinked in surprise as it moved to stare directly at him. Raising an eyebrow, he thought to himself what his options were. There wasn't really a choice. If someone points a camera at you, generally they want you to say something, and that is exactly what he decided to do.

"Hi, folks. Hi, evil terrorist guys. Oh, and hi Mom!"

He waved, smiling almost good-naturedly. Instead though, his eyes held a tinge of what could almost be described as sadness.

"Wow, it's been...two whole days that I've been dozing in the sand. Go figure, eh? I knew I was lazy, but...that's almost too much! Anyway, I guess it looks like I'm stuck here in this...Survival of the...Fitness...thing. Or whatever. It's already in full swing, and I guess I can't say that I'm sad that I missed the beginning. If I'm still here, it means nobody's really come through here yet, and that makes me a good candidate to come out alive, in theory. But..."

Struggling not to make a remark, to stay serious, the student grimaced, and sighed outwardly to himself. He wasn't sure what to say, but in all reality - medication or not, there seemed to be only one appropriate thing.

"...look, I'm a realist. I'm not going in here thinking that I'm the next coming of General Custard, or whoever the big-shot general was at Little Big Horn. Custer, maybe? I prefer Custard, so we'll go with that. Anyway, the truth is...I know I'm basically doomed. Mom, you'd better not cry at that, it's the truth. These sick fucks have taken away my medication, and I've been without it for basically three days. For you doctory types out there, that's Tegritol and Abilify. I don't need to spell that out for you, because quite frankly, I can't. Spell, that is. Well, those. I can spell things like duck and bird. But not those. Ahem."

Shaking his head slightly, the student pinched himself and tried to keep a semblance of mind.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it, I get like this sometimes...okay. What I'm really trying to say here is that once these medications wear off in a few days...things...things are going to get really horrible. I don't exactly know what I'm capable of, and I don't exactly know how in control of myself I will be."

The sadness came back, and for the first time, his voice seemed deadly serious, and in control.

"My name's Wade Wilson, and I suffer from something that I've been told is called schizoaffective disorder. In a nutshell, over the next few days, I'm going to slowly lose my mind. All I ask of you, the American public is this. Whatever horrible actions that I end up doing, whatever things that I end up making happen...please do not judge my mother for these things. She's an incredible woman who's done so much for me in my life that the last thing that I want to do is let her down. I know your first reaction is going to be 'blame the parents'. But it's not her fault. It's brain chemistry. It's a stupid blow to fate that I'm capable of doing the things that I'm probably going to do. While I've still got some semblance of my mind left, I just want to make sure that you all know - my mother should not bear any responsibility for my actions. If you want to blame someone? Blame whomever's responsible for this. My mom's a sweet lady, and she's going to need all the support she can get from you people. So...I guess I just want to preface this - and end it all, by saying...mom, I'm really sorry. I love you, and as long as I'm allowed to, I'll be thinking of you. Throughout it all, you did me right, and I'm sorry that I can't stick around to make you proud. Bye mom, and bye everyone else. This is Wadey Wilson, signin' off."

Sighing to himself, Wade looked at the nightstick, and shrugged to himself, giving the camera a big whack and causing it to fall off its designated perch, hanging by only a few wires. Nodding to the destroyed camera, Wade set off into the jungle, whistling a tune to himself. A few steps in, he stopped.

"...what is that song? That...isn't that...isn't that Chris Cornell?"

He raised his eyebrow a bit, and thought about it a moment more.

"Yeah..."Silence the Voices" or something, by Chris Cornell. That's...that's really weird."

Shaking his head, he threw up his hands in frustration.

"Man, I don't even LIKE Chris Cornell!"

With that, Wade sauntered off into the jungle, not knowing what to find, what to expect, or even what he'd find in this final chapter of his life. Things were about to get crazy, and Wade knew that could be taken literally, as well as figureatively. As he wandered off whistling, he shook his head. He really wanted to go on that damn grad trip.

I can't understand how they silence the voices


((Continued in She Bop))