Survival Of The Fittest

((Bill Dover continued from They Don't Sleep On The Beach))

The setting sun cast long shadows over the ruins as Bill trudged into what was left of what was probably once a pretty decent place to live. The key word, of course, was once. Things being good once didn't matter much when things were crappy now. Case in point, the life of the teenage boy currently running his hand along his collar for what seemed like the thousandth time today. The chafing of the metal against his skin was an ever-present reminder that his life was over.

He delivered a hard kick to one of the rocks littering his path, sending it flying off into the distance before landing with a satisfying thud. His eyes travelled to where source of the sound, noticing a broken down house with the remains of a dinner table and chairs. Considering the fact that Bill had wandered around for basically the whole day without seeing a single living person, the little furniture that existed here seemed to be the closest thing to an oasis of civilization among the desolation and abandonment. At the very least, it was a place where he could rest his feet.

Giving a weary sigh, Bill trudged over to the table and dropped his bag on it, gingerly testing the chair to make sure it could support his weight. Having a chair collapse under you is definitely not a pleasant experience, and, more importantly, it's something you only allow to happen to you once. It was a lesson that he learned back in middle school, and one that had served him well, as he had only gotten heftier over the years. After he was satisfied with the seat's sturdiness, he dumped himself onto it, leaning forward resting his head in his folded arms.

Funny how exhaustion never really seemed to catch up to you until you finally had a chance to rest. He hadn't felt so bad while he was walking, but now that his movment had ceased, all the activity of the day suddenly rushed in on him like a torrent, rooting him to the spot. He could acutely feel the sweat drenching his shirt, the breeze running cold over the dampened fabric. His joints ached, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on as he sat, trying desperately to push his mind away from entering yet another one of the pity parties that he had engaged in over the course of the day.

Man, this sucked.

[[Gervais Enter]]

The island was bigger than he thought. The terrorists really wanted them to search for each other. They could have chosen to put them into one room and get over with it within twenty minutes, but they instead chose to rent an island for them to play a game. They want to show off. 'We got money!'

And Gervais was impressed. The menagerie was already a big mysterious place, the nature in the upper wilds was refreshing. Now this village, had this post-apocalyptic feel. It was beautiful in a way. He walked along the path, still carrying his gun, spectating the surroundings and forgot that there were people other than him on this island. In fact, it took five seconds for him to realise that there was Bill Dover sitting on a chair in a broken down house. It felt like he had been blending into the scenery, but he was not part of this panorama.

He only ruined the beautiful sight.

Bill sighed as felt his body melt into his chair, exhaustion weighing him down like an anvil strapped to his back. Perhaps spending practically the whole day on the move was a bad idea. Being caught unawares by a killer was definitely a terrible outcome, but having had spent more time jogging today than he normally would in a week had really taken a toll on him. Would he even have the energy to get away, if anything happened?

Speaking of being caught unawares…

The sudden sound of footsteps jolted Bill out of his thoughts, a jolt of fear running down his spine. He sat up straight, looking around as he called out into the surrounding ruins, filled with shadows that could easily hide any number of figures.

“Hey... Is anyone out there?”

He closed his eyes and inwardly muttered a brief prayer, hoping desperately that whoever was walking up on him was just here to talk, and not kill.

Gervais was here to kill. He saw the prey, big and bound to the chair, he ran closer with his gun in his hand. Bill was a good kid, but this was nothing personal.

"Hey, fatass."

Gervais looked angrily at Bill, pointing the gun at the sky. His eyes looking in a threatening manner.

Bill's eyes locked onto the imposing figure heading towards him. This was it, huh? He sighed. There was nothing that he could do. He couldn't outrun Gervais, even if a gun wasn't involved. Might as well keep his dignity intact.

"Hey, you can spare the insults, I know why you're here."

He paused for a moment, calmly making eye contact with the guy.

"Though, can I ask you a question, first?"

So, Bill already surrendered? That was it? Killing would be that easy for him?

Bill was pathetic for not even fighting. How many Bills were left on this island?

"Sure. Say your last words."

Bill leaned forward in his chair, his body facing Gervais. He swallowed, his heart beating as fast as if he was running a marathon. In a way, he was, though there was good chance that, if things went the way they appeared to be going, that race would soon come to an abrupt end. He took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as he could, trying his best to purge any hint of fear from his voice.

"What are you trying to accomplish? I know that you want to live, but, what happens if, ah, you actually do get out of here? Do you think you'll really be happy if your existence on this earth has only been maintained by standing on the bodies of your friends and classmates?"

His whole body felt like it was about to explode. Comforting upset classmates and siblings was one thing, but talking down a man who was planning on killing you was a completely different story. His chances of making it out were slim, judging by the guy's expressions, but he still had to try. He gestured to the chairs surrounding the rotted table.

"I know you're not a bad guy deep down. It's scary, being here, surrounded by danger with no visible way out. Still, regardless of what happens, you're going to be here for at least several days, so why not take some time to just sit and talk for a while?"

"Oh, I must.... have, uh, followed this map wrong, Cecil."

((Drew Woods continued from Can't Control Myself))

Drew really did have a terrible sense of direction. But it did look like he had gone in the right direction. Right? He pointed the flashlight down at the map and he squinted a little. Maybe he should have gotten out the compress. Well, it was too late now. So he will just have to deal with it later on. He was feeling exhausted from carrying his two bags around for so long. However, the houses around here did not really look that safe. Now Drew was feeling disappointed in himself and he wondered what Cecil was thinking right now.

Does he think that I am an idiot? I think I am. I shouldn't have been so stubborn. Maybe now I can ask him for some help with the map directions.

"Cecil. I- Could you he-"

Drew stopped talking and he wiped his head around as he could hear two people talking not that far away from them. But he couldn't made out the words at all. One of the voices sounded very familiar to him and he found himself power-walking quickly towards whomever it was. He made sure to have the flashlight aimed in front of him and he noticed a guy with a gun.

Drew stopped in his tracks, gulping nervously. Looking behind himself for Cecil and then he looked back at the person and another guy called Bill.

"G-Gervais?"

((Cecil Salazar-Loveless continued from Can’t Control Myself))

Just as Cecil expected, Drew’s sudden burst of confidence didn’t last long. That didn’t mean he screwed up what he was supposed to do anyway.

“We seem to be in the right place though?” Cecil retorted as he glanced around the sets of broken down houses.

It was a village, alright, obviously an abandoned one. Comfort seemed scarce inside, but it wasn’t like Cecil was expecting any better. He thought that maybe they could find some good resting conditions in the so-called Leadership Houses instead, but there was a chance that their classmates might’ve thought the same. Nonetheless, it wasn’t the worst thing he had to deal with today. It’s not like I was expecting to get any good night’s sleep anywhere in this island. The best course of action that Cecil could come up with for the moment is either finding a house that was a little less broken down and block the door with the furniture inside, or they could camp out and hide themselves between the more secluded corners in the village.

This is possibly the best I could get.

Drew started asking for his help, and he was ready to give him some reassurance. However, Drew never got to finish his sentence and instead swiftly made his way away from him and into one of the houses nearby.

Cecil heard the voices, none that was familiar, and he tried to quickly catch up to Drew.

“Hey, wait up,” he quietly muttered as he followed him.

The first thing he saw was Drew’s back once he stopped walking. The second thing was yet another wave of faces he had probably seen around in school before but with none of the names he could connect them to. The last thing was the rifle in the hands of one of the unfamiliar kids.

Cecil frantically shook his head when Drew looked back at him. We should go we should go we should go leave leave leave leave run run run run run—

But Drew only called out to them, specifically to someone named Gervais, and Cecil wasn’t sure which of the two is him.

I don’t care. One of them has a gun. We could get shot.

Cecil reached out to grab Drew by his arm, ready to pull him away at a moment’s notice. He slightly raised his knife with his other hand.

It was amusing to see someone trying to convince him, trying to change his mind. Gervais was smart, he knew it. So a less smart person, like Bill, wanting to change his mind by words was laughable. Gervais' personality was stable, it is a construct of experiences he lived through, held together by his confidence he worked on for years.

He coldly replied to Bill in a calm tone. "If you had a son, wouldn't you still love him after going through all of this? Sadly I have to politely decline the talk with you. I have business yet unfinished."

Gervais turned around to discover the two newcomers, the one who had been calling his name had been Drew Woods, a guy he vaguely knew. He could remember that he drew on Drew during Swiftball. Cecil, he did not know that well that much.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. A knife?"

Gervais grinned while he turned his gun from pointing at Bill to pointing at the newcomers. A knife. Pff.

[Jackson Sullivan Continued From God Bless America [Island Remix ft. DJ Taipan]]


It was a slow burn as Jackson made his was out of the Rice Paddies and through the rest of the island. He moved at a comfortable pace, in no rush to be anywhere, really. Mikki and Bree were long gone, and the thought of attempting to find them had crossed his mind briefly, but he decided against it. He was of no use to them. Mikki had a gun, she was more than able to defend herself and Bree. Jackson was weaponless, so his chances of protecting anyone besides himself were slim to none. Jackson made a stop once he was free of the muddy area and got himself out of his muddied and wet clothes. Luckily, the bastards who trapped them on this island had at least allowed them to keep some of their personal effects from the bus.

Jackson peeled off the damp stained-brown overalls from his body, and quickly switched them out for a pair of worn-out faded blue jeans he had in his bag. He also stripped off the white tee, and replaced it with his Ohio State tee-shirt. The new clothes made him feel refreshed and helped him to shake off the negative feelings that were starting to take root in his head, even if it was just a temporary fix. He slid his muddied boots back on, and after doing his best to scrape the caked mud off his hat, he slipped it back on as well. He wrapped his dirty clothes in a small towel he had in his bag that he stole from the hotel, and slipped them back into the bag before continuing on.

After passing through a forested area, he eventually came across what looked to be a village of sorts. Some time had passed by them, and the skies had turned dark. He wondered what time it was by then. Most of the day had flown by. There was a nagging thought kicking at the back of his skull.

How many more of his classmates were already dead by now?

It was almost too painful to think about it for too long. But not only in regards to the dead. No, even worse was the thought of which of his classmates had become murderers by now. Who could he still trust? Who was looking for their chance to end him? Just imagining that any of his friends were capable of something so heinous drove him crazy with fear and confusion. But more than anything else right now, what Jackson was thinking about the most was how much he needed a stiff fucking drink. A bit of whiskey would do him fucking wonders right about now.

Jackson made his way through the residential area cautiously. He didn’t want to be surprised by anyone jumping out at him, and he didn’t want to be the one doing the surprising. Especially if the person he surprised had a gun on them. Tensions were no doubt running high after almost a full day on this island, and he didn’t feel like testing the limits of anyone’s trigger fingers. The houses looked dilapidated and broken. Somehow though, even in the dark of night, there was still a sense of serenity and beauty about the island. It was really unnerving if he was being honest.

A voice broke him from his thoughts, and he pushed his back against the house he was walking past. He slowly made his way to nearby entryway, and peered around the corner to see what he was dealing with.

Four people. Cecil he knew, alongside another boy whom he wasn’t very familiar with. Then in the back he saw two others. Gervais, holding a fucking gun (of course), and Bill Dover, in a chair. The situation didn’t exactly seem to be a friendly one either. It seemed to be a standoff, and Jackson wasn’t exactly sure who he could trust if he got himself involved. Gervais was his friend, but he also knew that he could be a cold bastard sometimes. With that gun in his hand, he wasn’t positive calling out to him like they were still in school was the best idea.

Fuck… what the hell was he supposed to do here?

For now he’d just stay put and watch.

All of a sudden, Bill's hyperfocus on Gervais gave way to a whirlwind of sound and confusion. The population of the ruin had doubled in a few short minutes, barely giving him a time to respond to his assailant's misguided questions.

Even worse, the situation was rapidly going downhill. Threats were being made, and if things didn't cool down soon, there was a good chance that someone was going to end up dead. Bill stared at the scene unfolded in front of him, his shock slowly fading and giving way to yet another wave of anxiety.

Honestly, the smart thing to do would be to try and get away. Gervais was busy dealing with Drew and Cecil, and there was no way he'd be able to turn around and attack Bill without getting jumped from behind by the other two boys. Still, it didn't seem right to just abandon the situation either. If he left and any of these guys died, he'd never be able to forgive himself. He got out of his chair, standing on his feet and spoke yet again, desperately trying to control the quiver that was trying to sneak its way into his voice.

"Hey, hey, let's put the weapons down, guys. This is just a little misunderstanding, I'm sure we can work things out without this getting ugly."

The words sounded hollow, even to him, but they were the best he could come up with at the moment. He just hoped they were enough to keep everyone from killing each other, at least for the time being.

Drew felt Cecil grabbing onto his arm and Drew turned his head look at the other boy, feeling himself going pale a little. Cecil seemed like he was on the edge and making sure to have his knife ready. Ready for what? Drew knew that he should not have thought that because it was pretty obvious why Cecil had raised the knife. Especially when he turned his gaze back to Gervais and noticed that the gun was pointed right at them! Drew felt his breath getting caught in his throat and he was trying to stop himself from breaking down once again.

Then the other guy called Bill was trying to calm the awkward situation down and Drew was feeling grateful towards him for being pretty much the only calm one right now. Drew wished that he had the same guts as Bill in this mess and he knew that he had to do something too. He wanted to show Cecil that he could be reliable and not a scared little crybaby coward. As if he was scared out of his mind right now!

"B-Bill's right! Let's not do anything hasty! Yeah? Yeah? We're all friendly! We just want to find a place to rest and we-we'll get out of your hair! Please lower the knife, Cecil.... And-and Gervais, please put the gun down. P-Please...?"

Drew didn't know why he suddenly thought he was about to do something smart. But he did it anyway because of how naïve he was being in the face of danger. He took a step forward towards Gervais with his hands up. He could still feel a slightly tug on his arm from Cecil.

Everything is going to be fine, Cecil. I'm not in danger. Gervais isn't going to shoot me.... I....I think...?

Gervais’s mocking tone made Cecil bristle.

Cecil wanted to shoot his knife into Gervais’s face.

He almost did when he decided to point his fucking gun at them. They were lucky that Gervais didn’t decide to shoot, but that only meant that he still can, and Cecil didn’t doubt that this guy would actually do it. He wanted to be the one to make the first move; end it all swiftly, but he didn’t have the resources to pull it off. He only had one single shot before he had to get close and most probably struggle to get it back.

The kid who was sitting stood up and tried to play peacemaker, and Drew followed it up, calling the kid Bill and further confirming to Cecil that it was the asshole with the gun that Drew was trying to catch the attention of.

Now Cecil could handle Drew’s nervous energy and rather jumpy attitude. He thought he could work with his usual lack of confidence. Drew was trying, at least, and Cecil didn’t mind his rather short instances of bravery.

But this? This was utter stupidity.

Cecil found himself getting irritated. At Drew for what the hell is he doing. At himself for what the hell was I thinking. At Gervais for being a dick and pointing his gun at them and fuck. Fuck him.

He did not lower the knife.

“What the hell, Drew.” Words he never really expected to say before, but when a Drew stepped forward towards someone pointing a gun at them like an idiot, it was the only thing he could say.

He had to let go of Drew’s arm when he put his hands up, but he eventually grabbed a fistful of the back of his shirt, still ready to pull Drew with him.

Why? What for? Shit.

“Let’s just go,” he tried again.

Cecil raised the knife higher, pointing it right at Gervais.

Gervais ignored Bill's existance entirely. He was not the threat. Cecil, showing a man with a gun no respect, was. He was the one threatening him with the knife. Cecil, this cowardly silent rat, this ass-kisser.

"Oh, you think I'm joking?"

He watched Cecil's eye. Then he aimed at Drew's torso and pulled the trigger. He was pushed back from the recoil and his vision was filled with the gunpowder smoke.