Survival Of The Fittest

(Carlos Lazaro continued from Bullet Dance.)

Carlos was tired. Not physically exhausted. Just tired.

He was tired of this stupid fucking island with it's stupid fucking trees and it's stupid fucking town, and it's stupid fucking game played by stupid fucking asshole classmates he didn't even get along with weeks before they started to murder one another. He hated the fucking humidity that made his shirt stick to his chest. He could not stand that fucking Danya, who was not his Danya, the man he thought was so cool back when he was a stupid fucking little shit who thought SotF was all just actors playing roles. He hated Casey for getting herself killed like a fucking idiot. He hated Alice for not staying inside like he fucking told her to do. He hated Cooper, that fucking asshole, just buried his stupid ham-ass face in the sand and cried like a little baby. Most of all though, he hated himself, because he royally fucked himself out of a life where his career goals amounted to running a checkout at the local grocery store getting chewed out by people who thought they were better than him.

He had a lot on his mind.

Carlos stumbled across the Quad minutes after upchucking. He still felt queasy, a wince permanently written on his face. He waded through the overgrowth, crushing flowers without so much as a first thought let alone a second.

When he reached the swing set, he plopped straight down. Carlos worried about whether the thing would support his weight but, well, what's life without it's risks? He swung back and forth for awhile, his feet never leaving the ground. From somewhere nearby, above the light squeaking of the metal chains, he could hear a soft *whirring* sound. Carlos poked his head over the chains.

A camera pointed right at him, over yonder monkey bars.

"Son of a dick."

He looked away. Can't these assholes just leave me alone? Yeah, big fucking chance of that happening in the next, like, millennium.

He sat there for god knows how long, his finger prodding the metal collar around his neck. They always had pretty good shots, on TV. That always impressed him. How could they get such a up-close look of some poor bastard getting crushed to death under someone's foot.

... There was a microphone in his collar, right?

He started talking without thinking.

"Hey, Hiro?"

Or WTHisHufflepuff. Man, in front of the computer, Firedraken sounded like such a cool ass name. Now, though. Holy shit.

"I don't know if you're watching. Like... I knew you pretty well but I didn't... yeah."

What was he even doing? Jesus Christ, he was talking to someone who he couldn't see, and even if they were listening, couldn't respond. He was going crazy, legit crazy, Gacy and Dahmer crazy.

He swallowed back his humiliation because, hey, he humiliated himself fifty times over back home. He hit rock bottom, only way was up.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you this. I really liked going to prom with you and..." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry about how it ended."

How he screwed the pooch so hard he should have been charged for bestiality.

Carlos sighed.

"I just, I wanted to change, you know? Maybe if I turned a new leaf, got my shit together, looked normal, I could, maybe, stop being such an creeper asshole? Like, I, I don't know. I don't know what I was looking for, going to prom with you. I didn't have any friends so maybe if I went to the prom with a date maybe they might... I don't know. I know what I wanted wasn't what you wanted. So I'm sorry."

Carlos laughed. Sure as hell wasn't a pretty laugh.

"I don't even know why I came on this trip. You weren't coming on it so, like, why bother, am I right? I fucking hate Disney."

He lapsed into another silence, staring out at the wild expanse of urban decay. In the distance, Carlos could see something move. He didn't know what it was. Frankly, he didn't want to know. The less he knew, the better.

"But you know... Part of me really hoped I gained something from prom, and not in that creepy-ass way. I wish it did kind of work out for us. But I know, I know there would'a been this nagging feeling in the back of my head that, t-that even if everything went right between the two of us and we did get together, it wouldn't last long. I'd do something, or something would happen, and then I'd be back to square negative-one with no friends, no life and..."

Carlos trailed off.

He thought about what he just said.

Carlos stared at the ground.

"Guess I was right."

There was so much to say. Not just to Hiro but to his parents, his sibling, his teachers, his aunt and uncle. Carlos didn't have the energy or the desire. So he sat there on the swing, with his face buried in his hands and his eyes wide open. He didn't say anything else.

((Rachael Langdon continued from The Crazy Kids))

Rachael sighed as she continued to walk through the Northern Town. She had to walk around the Danger Zone of the park and back towards the Northern Town. Part of her wasn't sure if she should be heading back this way. It was likely that Miles and Stacy could have gone back to the house. At the same time, there was the mansion where Katarin and Miranda died. Going back to that mansion was an absolute "no" in her book.

She decided to go to the fringes of the Northern Town. There was a park nearby, and it was likely she wouldn't be too disturbed there. There was a chance that everyone left would be taking refuge in one of the remaining buildings. No one could be too careless at this point, and her conversation with Tyler affirmed that no one was likely going to be careless now. Her hand would occasionally drift over the knife in her pocket as she walked.

Now that she had arrived in the park, Rachael decided to find a place to rest. She was hungry, and she needed to try and eat something. She was getting low on food, just a few meal bars and crackers left. She'd have to find more soon, either by getting some from someone willing to share, or investigating the bag near a dead body. She prayed the former option would be presented to her first.

As she walked through the park, she heard someone speaking nearby. She immediately slowed her pace down as she heard the figure talking. She looked ahead and noticed someone sitting on a nearby swing set, talking aloud. She wasn't sure if she should get closer or not. She couldn't see who the boy was from behind. He could be someone who had decided to play, like Hansel, or someone who had decided to kill if needed, like Tyler.

She began to step back, trying to stay as silent as she could. She didn't want to attract any trouble, if that's what this person was.

"... I know you're there."

Carlos didn't even have to look back. The creaking from the swing ceased, no birds chirping, not even a gentle wind. The Quad was completely silent. He could hear the crunch of grass and the light crack of a heel twisting. Someone was sneaking up on him. Or sneaking away from him. Carlos figured the former.

He didn't bother to look back. Carlos stared right ahead and let out a deep, heavy sigh.

"Look. If you're going to kill me, just do it. I'm not going to stop you."

Rachael froze. He heard her. She hung her head low and felt her heartbeat start to race. She should have been more careful. She wasn't being careful. She needed to be careful. All these thoughts raced through her head as the boy spoke to her. She was ready to accept her fate.

Look. If you're going to kill me, just do it. I'm not going to stop you.

But maybe this wasn't her fate. She looked up and focused on the boy on the swing. He wasn't moving or doing anything that made her think he was going to hurt her. It sounded like he had given up as well. She swallowed a lump in her throat and replied.

"I...I'm not playing," she said.

Rachael started to move closer to the boy. He wasn't going to attack her, so she figured she wouldn't treat him as an enemy. Like she proposed to Tyler and Eliza, she wasn't going to look for trouble. She was putting a lot of faith in this, but it was something she needed.

Rachael sat on the swing next to the boy, swinging her bag and resting it on her lap. Now she could see who he was. Carlos Lazaro. They didn't really have any sort of meaningful interactions back at school. She was glad the bag was covering the knife in her pocket. She didn't want Carlos to think of her as a threat.

"Um..."

She wasn't really sure what to say then. Small talk was getting harder and harder the longer they were in this game. Rachael just looked down at the ground and kicked her feet off the ground, slightly pushing the swing back.

Carlos almost laughed. Almost. He didn't, though, because there was nothing to laugh at. Nothing funny, everything was bitter and hard to bear.

"... You aren't?"

Carlos knew who it was. He recognized Rachael's voice, so he didn't bother looking at her. Rachael even came over and sat down in the swing next to him. It didn't matter. He kept his eyes ahead, hands draped at his sides.

"... Then why the hell are you skulking around like that?"

Rachael was giving him the benefit of the doubt. He could tell. If she knew what he did, about Alice and Casey, she'd wouldn't be so quick to trust him.

Rachael bit her lip as Carlos spoke. He wanted to know why she was skulking about. He must have thought she was playing, or at least covering for a failed deception. She shook her head.

"I wasn't trying to sneak up on you," she said. "I just wandered by and saw you."

Rachael continued to slowly push herself back and forth on the swing. She looked over at the boy, who was facing forward.

"I didn't mean to frighten you if I did."

Frightened? Please. Fear was reserved for someone who was... Intimidating? Remotely dangerous? He couldn't think of the right word. Whatever it was, Rachael ain't it. Carlos scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I ain't afraid of you, Langdon. Trust me on that."

... Holy fuck, that wasn't what he meant to say! Way to make an ass of yourself Carlos. Letting out a sigh, he turned his head to look at the girl across from her. A frown immediately stitched it's way across his lips when he saw her face.

"I'm being a cock." Carlos pressed a hand over his forehead. Either his hands were clammy or the pores over his head were in hyperdrive. "Sorry. You don't deserve that. It's not you, Rachael, it's just..."

Yeah, definitely won't be sharing the story of Alice Gilman acting like an idiot and how he let her get shot, thank you very much. And telling Rachael about how Casey acted like an idiot and he left her to die was out of the question. So what? What could he possibly say to explain his fuckstick behavior? He considered that for a minute. Then he let out a shockingly genuine chuckle.

"It's just been a hell of a week, you know? One hell of a week..."

Carlos sounded embarrassed by his response to Rachael's statement. He must have thought she was insulted by the idea of him fearing her. She didn't really care about that. Why should she want people to be afraid of her? It wasn't going to make her feel better, and it would only drive people away from her. She sighed when Carlos explained he had a rough week.

"It's fine. My week has been horrible as well. Most of my friends are either dead or missing, I saw a double homicide, and I've spent the last day or so completely alone. I don't think anyone is doing okay at this point."

Rachael stared at her feet. She started to dig her shoes into the loose dirt on the ground. No one was going to be alright after this experience, even if the government managed to swoop in and save them all at this moment. It was hard to think positive right now, but maybe she could try it. After all, Rachael needed to decide what she was going to do, seven days into this game and about one hundred of her peers dead.

"So, what's keeping you going?"

... Double homicide. That's what she calls kids murdering other kids.  Carlos almost laughed but he kept himself fully grounded. He rocked on his swing and just nodded for awhile.

"What's keeping me going?"

Yeah, that's totally what she just asked, Carlos.

Carlos closed his eyes. This was really giving him a headache. He didn't want to think about it. Sure as hell was sure that Rachael didn't want to think about it either. But she asked, and Carlos was going to answer her.

"... Honestly? There's only a few left."

How many people were left? Fuck, Carlos didn't know, not that many he figured.

"All you need to do is get one. If you don't, they throw you back in. They did that once to one of the winners. All you have to do is lay low and don't do anything stupid."

That was his plan from the start, after all. Until he ran into Casey. Funny, how that worked out.

"That's it. That's what keeps me going."

He gave Rachael a look. And you?

Carlos had a pragmatic approach to still continuing on with this game. He did bring up a point Rachael had nearly forgotten about: she'd have to kill at least one person to leave the island if she was the sole survivor. More than half the class was dead, meaning that everyone was more likely to kill. Could that include her? Would she have to take Katarin's knife and plunge it into someone's heart in hopes that the payoff would mean she could go home when everyone else was dead? The thought filled her with fear.

"I don't know if I could do that," she told Carlos.

Rachael dug her foot into the dirt on the ground.

"I had the chance to kill someone a few days ago, but I couldn't do it, even though it meant my ally was likely to die as well. Even if it means going home, I don't know if I can kill anyone at this point."

Rachael held her head low.

"I'm not sure what else I can do instead."

Carlos laughed at what Rachael said. It wasn't a mean laugh, and it wasn't triggered by any one thing in particular. It came after a pregnant pause that did not bear fruit. Carlos looked over his shoulder at the girl and shook his head.

"You've never watched this show, have you?"

Carlos got up from the swing. He took a few paces, putting distance between the two of them. Then he turned on his heel and held his arms out. Not even gonna wait for a response.

"I thought this show was the shit when I was a brat. I was weird kid, didn't have many friends. So this show was all I would think about because, you know, it was kids like me having to kill one another! Thing is though, I was living in the Philippines at the time, so I didn't know it was real. Crazy, right? If I knew it was real I might have thought twice about watching."

He shrugged, tapping his index finger against his temple.

"Hard to believe, right? But it's true. And believe me when I say that this game? It ain't about killing. Oh sure, that's what the terrorists want us to think! But it's bullshit. It's about surviving, adapting. If you keep thinking in terms of killing, of course you're going to be stuck. All you have to do is make sure that somebody isn't you. What can you do to avoid that? That's what every past winner did, and that's what you have to do if you want to make it.

"Like... look. Take it from me. I knew my plan long before I ended up here. I knew that I wasn't going to go around killing 'cuz that ain't who I am. But I've watched this show before and I know how things work. So my plan? Find gun, crawl into corner, wait it out.  And if shit gets real? Fight or flight. That's all. 'course, no plan is perfect, but I made out okay. That's why I'm still alive,"

That wasn't the reason. Carlos Lazaro's just a huge fucking coward. But that message wasn't material for a motivation speech.

Carlos stared at her for a long, long moment. She looked like shit. Unlike Patton, she could wash it all off. Maybe. Carlos started speaking again, like the script told him to.

"Back there, when you were sneaking up on me? I wouldn't have noticed you if I wasn't listening real close."

He smirked.

"You know how to survive. You just don't know it yet."

Dramatic pause, unintentional. Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and he cocked his head to the right. Carlos met with a street that seemed to keep rolling and rolling into infinity. There was some movement, deep within, and Carlos stared at said movement like he would an ant colony descending on his picnic in the park.

"But this shit?" Carlos motioned to the swings, not making eye contact. "This is stupid, and it's going to get you killed."

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, weighing his options. Then he walked over to his dufflebag and threw it over his shoulder.

"You've met these cockroaches. They do not have a sense of humor."

Rachael tried to take in everything Carlos said. She couldn't believe he didn't know Survival of the Fittest was a real show. She had always avoided the show. She always believed it was real, and she could never bring herself to do more with the show other than reading news about the aftershock of it.

Still, she could understand Carlos' strategy. It was similar to the one she had hoped for, and the one she tried to promote to Tyler and Eliza. It was when Carlos said she knew how to survive but didn't know it yet that she was thrown.

"I...I don't know if I can win this."

Rachael looked at Carlos, who was now standing with his bag over his shoulder.

"I hope your plan works for you. I can try that all I want, but I don't know if I'll be able to fight when flight is no longer an option."

Carlos just looked at Rachael funny. He sighed, turned right again. He fought with himself in his head, considering... Then he unzipped his dufflebag, pulled out his saw.

"I'm not going to hold your hand, Rachael. You look smart, you'll figure it out."

The figures to his right kept moving. He couldn't tell if they were moving closer or further away. But even at the distance he was at, he could make out vague features. He knew where he wanted to go. He dropped the saw.

"Take it. I don't need it. Be careful."

Carlos went right.

(Carlos Lazaro continued in The Mad and Hungry Dogs.)

Rachael's gaze was held on the axe Carlos dropped on the ground. He said she was smart and would know how to survive. After that, he turned and walked away, leaving Rachael all alone on the swings. She didn't say anything to him as he left. She just watched him go, then looked back at the axe he left her.

It was quite a gift, probably the last gift she'd be given in this life. Carlos was saying she could survive this, and he wanted her to prove it. Or, from her interpretation, he was at least wanting her to believe she could survive. She wasn't that intimidating of a figure; how could she being really skinny and just barely over five feet tall? An axe would say otherwise though.

Still, all she had to do was figure out if she could pick up the axe. It would likely be more helpful than the knife, but it was also something that would require skill to handle. She'd have to be ready to swing it like Paul Bunyan. She had to figure out if she could have the strength to do it.

So she sat on the swing, staring at the axe. All she had to do was get up, pick it up, and go on. She could also leave it behind and continue on in the same path she had been attempting before. All that mattered next was deciding if she could do it.

She stared at the axe, then slowly stood up from the swing.

((Rachael Langdon to be concluded in J'adoube))