Dawn of the First Day

VysePresident · #1

As Ian slowly drifted back into consciousness, he had the vague impression he was lying in the grass and weeds. That seemed odd, even to his distant mind. Yet it didn't really bother him. It was just one more sensation that barely registered through the dense mental fog that enveloped his senses. The thought sparked a brief moment of bored curiosity before it was forgotten. It was easier just to stay lying down, and drift off again. He stayed that way for quite some time before he began to wake up in earnest. Unfortunately for him, there wasn't much worth waking up to. The first thing he noticed was that his head was resting on something extremely uncomfortable, for some reason. Naturally enough, he tried to shift his head to the side, away from the discomfort.

That was a mistake.

The instant his head left the ground it burst into a splitting headache, quickly followed by a wave of dizziness that nearly made him throw up. Thankfully, just laying back down again seemed to ease the discomfort somewhat, but his stomach refused to settle down as easily. As he lay there, the events of the last day flashed through his mind in a confused jumble...the kidnapping, the terrorists, the way Mr. Davidge was murdered...it was all real, wasn't it? He was on Survival of the Fittest, and his time following politics had given him a pretty decent idea of what that meant.

The pain was almost a welcome distraction now, acting as a buffer between him and panic, keeping him from breaking down. At the moment, his entire world consisted of gritting his teeth and riding this out. He'd cope with the rest later. For now, his thoughts focused entirely on distracting himself, as best he could manage. He knew better than to fight the pain. That wouldn't help. You just had to accept that it was there, and let your mind move on. Unfortunately, all he could think of was the first time he was nailed in the face by a black belt back, in Taekwondo. It was less helpful than could be desired, if a fairly accurate view of things.

He managed to stay in that position for almost a minute before nature decided to get involved. He clearly wasn't having enough fun already. Its intervention took the form of a slight tickling sensation along the back of his left arm. Ian tried to ignore it, but it kept growing until he felt like his arm was covered in a dozen crawling specks. He tried scratching at the source of his irritation with his other arm, and suddenly they all started stinging. Startled, he managed to roll over, ignoring the pain long enough to realize the terrorists had politely placed him just a few feet away from an anthill. Naturally. What better place to set a guy down to nap?

He somehow managed to get to his feet and move away, knocking the ants off of him and his clothes as best he could. The sudden movement was the final straw for his poor, stressed stomach. As the initial jolt of adrenaline began to wear off, he was suddenly hit by another wave of dizziness, and started retching. It felt like the contents of all his previous meals since first grade came rushing back up, as he collapsed to the ground and threw up.

Petty as it was, all he could think of in that painful, confused moment was to make sure he hit the anthill. The stupid bugs deserved it.

The worst of it seemed to have passed by now. As near as he could tell, the headache and dizziness had just been a rough reaction to the anesthesia. At least, he didn't seem to have a concussion, as he'd initially feared. HIs headache had already faded significantly, thanks in large part to the blessed bottle of aspirin he'd found in his supply bag. His other symptoms were also fading, albeit more slowly than he'd have liked. He was still weak enough that the process of walking to a shaded bench had left him feeling a little woozy. He wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible. It was just too hard to hide here, and if somebody with a half-decent weapon came for him...well, he was under no delusions about his current ability to defend himself. Still, there wasn't a darn thing he could do about that until he recovered.

In the meantime, he sat on his bench with his map unfolded in front of him, carefully nibbling at an energy bar as he mused on his situation. If there was any silver lining to his horrible awakening, it was the fact that it had helped distract him from his situation until he was able to cope with it. The panic he'd felt was still there, but muted, now that he'd had a chance to calm down. The more rational part of his mind had come back to the forefront, and now he was busy trying to figure out his next step, once he felt up to moving on.

Unfortunately, there didn't seem a good answer to that, or at least not one that he could readily find. The idea of killing anyone outside of self-defense was abhorrent, and even then it was...an uncomfortable thought. Besides, maybe he just couldn't period, if they were good enough, or well armed, or even just lucky. While he could technically shoot somebody with his so-called weapon, he doubted the camera had all that much stopping power. The thought was enough for him to crack a smile. It was good to see his sense of humor was still intact, even if it was a little dark.

Sadly, it couldn't improve his situation. He'd been such an idiot, letting his martial arts training slide after moving to Seattle...no, there was no point in thinking that way. He might not be at his peak, but his dad had at least made him keep to a basic routine. Ian could still throw pretty decent kicks, and even punches. He could probably even remember enough of his Krav techniques to get by, if he just had the time, and nobody tried taking him to the ground. He was far from helpless...or at least, he would be when he could actually stand up.

So far, this wasn't getting him any closer to finding a goal than before. Killing his way to the top wasn't an option, so what was left? Any path he chose, his odds of survival looked pretty grim. There was the ever tantalizing idea of escape, but he didn't have a clue where to start, and he couldn't really count on another outside rescue coming in time. Unfortunately, between the collars and the cameras, anything he did himself could surely be tracked by the terrorists. Realistically speaking, it probably wasn't going to happen.....

.....and yet....surely there'd be no harm in just playing with the idea, just as a thought exercise. Whatever else the terrorists could monitor, his mind was still a safe refuge. He had no delusions that he'd pull off something nobody before him had done, but it offered a little bit of hope, which he suspected was going to be a precious commodity on the island. Still, he didn't dare let himself think about that too much yet. He couldn't afford to let his mind wander off on a tangent right now. Remaining calm was hard enough without wallowing in a likely impossibility.

In the meantime, the one thread of an idea he had was to go look for his friends. To be honest, it wasn't much of a goal. He'd read enough tragedy stories from his time following politics to know how this was likely to play out. Even if he was lucky enough to find them in good health, it was likely only a matter of time before that changed. As long as they were playing the terrorists' game, only one of them could survive, at best.

Still, at least it was a goal, and a good one at that, if likely futile. At the very least, if he could find, or even form a group of people he could trust, it would improve his odds of surviving tremendously, which was always a plus. The idea of living even a little longer was starting to seem moderately appealing again. Besides, he was honestly worried about his friends....Maynard....Juhan....Daniel.....and so many others trapped on this wretched island. He'd give a lot to know they were safe, but for now, all he could offer was a prayer. It wasn't much, just a little prayer for peace and safety, for him as well as his friends and family, but it was all that came to mind.

So...that was settled, then. He carefully tried pulling himself up on the table, hands hovering nearby in case he should feel weak again. Nothing seemed to be wrong, after a moment of waiting. So far, so good. He let himself move away from it slowly, taking a few experimental steps in the process. When his body showed no signs of its earlier weakness, he felt it was time to get going. He gathered his things together and started putting them back in his bag. The one exception was the partially eaten energy bar, which he re-wrapped as best he could and put in his pocket. He imagined he'd want it soon enough, once his appetite returned.

Out of the places listed on the map, he decided to head towards the mansions he could see a little ways away. For one thing, it was the closest, and there was a nice, paved road, which was welcome given his current state. For another, he was more likely to find something useful, perhaps something he could even use as a weapon. Much as he didn't like the thought of fighting, he had no intention of letting himself be killed by some random psyco. If it came down to a situation where he had to kill or be killed...well, he could only hope he was up to it.

He walked slowly down the path to the mansions. While he was feeling better, there was no sense in pushing himself. After all, he had all the time in his life to do whatever he was going do......

......heh.....

(Ian Williams continued in: The two people in the distance were Paulo and Becca)