Survival Of The Fittest

((Lauren Rowe continued from Assumptions))

Lauren had realized that she'd been neglecting the necessities a little while after she'd left the school. On one hand, it was all well and good that she had one goal and one goal only. She'd put thoughts of escape behind; at this time, and with her priorities organized as they were, she'd done all she was willing to on that subject.

Easier to concentrate that way, just putting one foot in front of the other, moving west, scanning the surroundings and hoping for a face that she knew well.

But she still had to eat.

Here she was, standing in the middle of an overgrown park, a food bar in one hand and a half-folded map in the other. The park might have been charming once. She wondered how much less charming it would be in a few days.

As she shifted slightly, the weight bar dug into her armpit where she'd nestled it, other end propped against the dirt. Not comfortable, but she'd taken what she could get in exchange for safety.

She took a few moments, took a few more bites of the energy bar.

It was kind of funny, eating. Not the act itself. The time she was putting into it. The way she was going about this, it almost seemed as if she had time to stand there and eat and watch the wind move through the wedding banner hung up on the gazebo. She'd told herself that she'd wait for a while, see if anyone turned up, but really, she could have kept moving. She didn't want to be still wandering, goal or not, when the sun went down and people started thinking about that twenty-four hour time limit. When they started thinking maybe it wasn't best to bet on someone else killing to not have everyone's collar blown. When they started killing.

She had the feeling she was running out of time.

G075: Start

She'd never really been one for early mornings.

Tessa Blackridge lay curled on the cool grass, warm sun shining down onto her. No, not quite right. The itchy, dirty grass, the burning sun. Better. She stirred for the half-dozenth time. This time she'd get up for sure. She wouldn't hit her mental snooze button again, let her consciousness waft away until it was buffeted once more by nightmares and gunshots and blood. Her head hurt.

She opened her eyes again, rolled over to look cross-eyed at the G075 stenciled on the bag laying in front of her face. Seventy-five whats? She really should get up, though. Her head hurt. Come on, sit up. Seventy-five people trying to kill her is what it meant. She groaned lightly, willed herself to move, but managed only an urgent sort of lethargy, if that was possible. But she wasn't trying to kill herself, so - she blinked from the force of the cogs whirring into gear - seventy-six. Er, seventy-four. Assuming she wasn't the highest number, which would be dumb to think.

Dumb to think. Too dumb to think. Well, too tired to think. Maybe she was too dumb too, since she doubted her tongue was really going yet. Oh, wordplay. Finally she forced herself up. It was a park of some sort. Her head hurt, and she was going to die. That sucked. Like, a lot. But maybe only half the people wanted to murder her, which was - come on - fourty-sev... no, um, a bunch. There was a gazebo there, and some grass and a fountain. Definitely a park then. And a girl standing there. That was cool, unless she was one of the thirty...seven, right? Definitely. Minor victories. The thirty-seven, though, that were going to stab her. In a row. Hehe. Hopefully not. But she propped herself up, and she raised herself above the grass, and she waved, and she tried to smile but grimaced instead, and she hoped the girl would see her.

There was movement there, in the corner of her eye, and she turned, the energy bar stuffed into a shallow capri pocket, the newly freed hand sliding onto the weight bar, hefting it, and- really?

Lauren's frown mirrored the one on the other girl's shirt.

Ten, twenty more steps and she'd have tripped over this girl. Not a softball girl. That possibility was out of mind pretty fast, even before the face registered. None of them would be lying around while this went on. No, this girl wasn't who Lauren was looking for, and that sent a spike of irritation through her. Almost would have been surprising, if not for how many people she'd already met who weren't the softball team. She was getting pretty tired of this. One hundred, one hundred fifty people on this island. She was looking for seven.

That was hardly the other girl's fault, but she'd have to look elsewhere for a warm welcome.

"Hey," Lauren said, her voice clipped.

She wondered if it would be rude to just turn and leave.

Well, she'd definitely noticed her, then. Tessa took the time to size her up - or, rather, to trace her up and down with bleary eyes while various bloody scenarios chugged slowly through her aching head. No weapon was immediately evident, which was nice, and she didn't really look like she wanted to employ her fists instead. Not that she couldn't if she wanted. The girl was evidently fit, pretty certainly an athlete of some description. Her name definitely started with a K except maybe it didn't, but at any rate she wasn't the sort Tessa usually hung out with, though that list was painfully small.

"Um, hey," she echoed with less certainty and more warmth. She cast her eyes down at the grass, clutched her forehead again and squeezed tiny rivulets from her screwed-up eyes. Kel-, no Ka- whoever it was had probably just been awake longer. There was no need to let herself flush under her gaze. Everyone had gotten the same treatment and she'd stop being a useless, drugged-up lump in a minute or two. It was all fine and she could carry on a conversation like a normal person. She groaned slightly.

"Holy hell, what did they do to us?"

"Besides telling us to kill each other?"

Lauren was faintly aware that wasn't exactly tactful. She could have cared less.

All the same, she didn't want to make any more enemies. Who knew what Carmina had planned for her after she'd realized she'd been abandoned? Or that Aurora girl, after she'd gotten Owen on her side?

Letting the weight bar dip as her arms relaxed, she sighed. Still frustrated, still running out of time. She could keep it under control, though, and she certainly didn't need to broadcast it to everyone who might think she was a threat. Keeping her head attached - that was the order of the day.

"Knockout gas sometimes has adverse effects," she finally said. "I wouldn't be surprised if different people react to it in different ways."

Ugh.

That was what she felt. That was what she thought. That was the word, the complaint, the disappointed groan to sum up the whole situation. The girl was right, even if she wasn't friendly. Headaches weren't fun, but getting shot by a classmate just because some psycho told them to was worse. She wanted to say so, to nod in agreement and rise dramatically and kick of her courageous arc of understated courage and heroism or whatever and declare how she knew they could survive against the odds, but her tongue was thick and dry and her mind would only spin in circles. Which shouldn't stop her, though, because if she was going to tough it out until the rescue...

Just stand up. Arms and legs and head and back, go!

Test run. How aboout - Now?

No, scratch that. Next time. Next time for sure...

The girl opener her mouth again, laid down a little matter-of-fact statement as if she was an expert on the stuff. Like, yeah, you're normally good to get within 15 minutes of waking up but if symptoms linger then take two ibuprofen and murder someone in the morning. Why should that girl get to be so vital, so droll, when she lacked the bloody strength to stand?

"I don't- whatever. I'll just sit here and metabolize or whatever." She looked up again, squinting in the sun. "S'pose you've been up for hours too, then, just watching people get their heads knocked off?"

"So friggin' dumb, all of this."

Lauren opened her mouth slightly to answer, then just nodded instead. There would be people killing soon enough, if they hadn't started already. No point going on about it.

There wasn't much else to say, so she fell back on the old routine. Nod, don't talk too much, walk away - except she couldn't, not exactly. She couldn't afford to just walk away from anyone that noticed her. She'd get gunned after for that, for perceived slights, for whatever that Aurora girl had gone hostile over. So talking was necessary too.

Didn't mean she had to like it. Didn't mean she had to spend more time than she needed to on it, because she owed this girl nothing.

She'd done enough talking here to keep the peace, she figured.

"Look," she said, eyes flickering from the prone girl to the horizon and back. "I should get going. Before it gets dark."

"Right," she said, feeling out the rest of her response. The girl wasn't much good in terms of company, and she wasn't going to force it. If she even could. She didn't even know if she could stand yet. But that was fine. All good. She should tell her that. That would work.

"...That's fine. You're fine to go. I'm..."

Well, she sure as hell wasn't fine, actually, but nobody was, really. She could deal, though. There was always that burst of strength, that wild confidence when it came down to the quick of it. That was a rare truth of fiction. People didn't just give up when the going got rough. She took a deep breath, forcing strength into her legs, pushed up with her arms, raised her spinning head with only a small pained groan.

"I'm fine." A weak smile. Her knees wobbled and she waved again but she didn't dare try to take a step. "Seeya 'round."

The corners of her lips moved upwards, but she didn't finish the smile. Seemed polite, to end on a smile, but she had never been much good at smiling, or faking anything, really.

"See you," Lauren said. Hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Around."

It didn't seem exactly like the right thing to say. Not when they probably wouldn't ever meet again. Not when it was death that was the reason, instead of distance or apathy.

"Good luck."

Good enough.

((Lauren Rowe continued in I'll be Their Bogeyman))

The girl left and so did the strength in her knees. There was a time for defiance, for single-minded determination and grit, but when her foe was a headache and her audience was gone, she had nothing left to prove.

Hope you find whatever you're looking for, she thought idly, staring at the grass.

It was some time before she found the strength to stand again.

((Tessa Blackridge continued elsewhere))