Survival Of The Fittest

[Lorenzo Tavares Continued From Heeling Of The USS Dekcuc]


Keep moving.

Check the tracker.

Avoid contact for now.

Find shelter.

Lorenzo moved at a quick pace through the trees and rain. Ducking and dodging branches and tree trunks and he anxiously tried to get as far from where he killed Emil as possible. Where Demetri was. Where he did the abandoning this time. It was funny really, Lorenzo did exactly what he desperately wanted to never have done to him again. Demetri begged him to stay and he abandoned him. But what else could he do. It was too late. He had no path back to a point where he could have accepted Demetri’s offer. All paths led to monsterdom. No detour, no escape. In the end, it was what he wanted. Wan’t it? It made it easier. Easier to do what he had to do to make it out of this hellhole alive.

Lorenzo’s path finally opened up, and he found himself in the village. The night was dark, it must have been late. Lorenzo took a look at the tracker again. That same dot was still there from an hour ago. Still just far enough to be on the edge of his radar, getting closer whenever he stopped, but never close enough for him to see. It bothered him. Who was it? Emmett? Chasing after him to get some sort of revenge? No. Even Emmett wouldn’t come after him alone. Not now. Demetri? To try and rescue him again? Doubtful.

So who?

They’d been there since he’d started running. A few times he’d thought they’d gone, but after a bit they would appear again. Someone was following him, but who was he had no idea. They obviously didn’t know he could see them. They got too close for comfort a few times. Lorenzo had to lead them somewhere he could make them show themselves. And then… His grip tightened on the splitting maul and he grit his teeth in frustration. He’d do what he had to to protect his life. That was all there was to it.

Lorenzo made his way through the village until he came across what looked to be a shop of some sort. His map said it was the commissary. Should do more than nicely. Lorenzo entered and hid himself inside behind a door frame. Maul ready in his hands for whoever made it close. His hand shaking slightly as he held the tracker and stared intently as the dot got closer and closer. What if it was Tyrell? The sweat on his forehead mixed with the rain dripped down his face slowly. His breath caught in his throat for a second.

Closer.

Just outside.

“You should probably stop.” He called out suddenly. The dot stopped moving.

“I know you’ve been following me. Who are you?” He demanded.

((Diego Larrosa continues from no one round here's good at keeping their eyes closed))

Green was a stupid hair color.

There had been something about it that appealed to Diego, back then. If he thought long enough about it, and he did, given the hours upon hours spent following Lorenzo, then Diego would eventually realize it was the audacity of it that appealed to him. The audacity, the courage, the complete lack of any fucks given about the color of his hair, how he looked, who he loved, all of that made Lorenzo the most unattainable of the gay boys in Hunter High. And he was the one he knew the least about. Declyn and Drew, his fellow gardening friends, were hot, too, they were nice, they acknowledged him as a person, but that last part was exactly the problem. They acknowledged him as a person, they were friends. It felt wrong, like a betrayal, to think of them in other ways. Like his mind was trespassing. Lorenzo had always been an unknown, more distant, so there was less guilt involved in fantasies. So, the one he knew the least about was, and always had been, the one he wanted the most.

The hair color was stupid, though, now that he gave serious thought about it, now that Diego had been trying to distinguish green hair against green leaves for half the day now. The task put even more strain on his eyes now that the sun had set, and he walked faster, moved more recklessly, out of fear of losing track. He audibly breathed a sigh of relief when he saw him heading to a building, and then he didn't. Because that meant it was almost time, that he'd have either a yes or a no in the next few minutes. The possibility of Lorenzo's rejection hurting physically more than emotionally, thoughts of the hammer swinging towards his face, occurred to Diego, but only in the back of his mind. He had come all this way. Turning back had long ago stopped being an option.

He wondered how Stephanie was doing. If it had been a wise decision to leave her with Gervais. But that was something he'd deal with tomorrow morning, come next announcements.

Lorenzo passed the tree line and entered the building, and a few seconds after he walked into the dark, Diego emerged. His torso shook, his teeth chattered, hair stood on the back of his neck, but it wasn't the rain soaking through him causing it all.

He'd been rehearsing his pitch to himself, over and over and over again. He had a good one, he thought, especially after the encounter with Emil. He had good reasons. But maybe those reasons, logical as they were, wouldn't matter to a lonely, scared, paranoid man. But there was only one way to find out.

He was only a few feet from the entrance when Lorenzo called out. Diego stopped in his tracks, breath caught in his throat.

He knew. He'd known the entire time.

But who was he? Lorenzo asked.

Diego took in a deep breath, then exhaled gradually.

"An ally," Diego said, a step outside the building.

Lorenzo almost laughed out loud at the response he received. He shook his head at the sheer audacity and absolute insanity of it. An ally? What kind of person could honestly say such a thing to him? After what he’d done? After surviving on this island for this long? Allies were in short supply. Almost non-existent. Especially for him. His friends had all turned their backs on him. Tyrell. Andy. Axel. And the one friend who tried to reach out to him, Lorenzo himself abandoned. What was left for him? How could he believe that anyone on this miserable island was still willing to be his ally?

No. That wasn’t a luxury he had left.

“I doubt that.” He responded. Dry, monotone. No anger or resentment behind the words. Just stating facts.

“You were there, weren’t you?” He asked, his voice staying level and calm.

“You saw what I did. I murdered Emil in cold blood.” He let out a dry laugh.

“I have no allies.”

Lorenzo turned the corner, coming out from his hiding place to face his stalker. He held the maul out in front of him threateningly, to dissuade any kind of foolish resistance or fight that may be on his mysterious guest’s mind. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw who it was standing outside the commissary. Diego. The boy he’d left behind with the others at the temple that morning. Had he been following him all this time? Obviously. But the question remained.

Why?

It didn’t make any sense. Lorenzo lowered the maul a bit, and looked incredulously at the other boy. What could he possibly get out of this situation? Was he secretly hoping Lorenzo was so unhinged that he wouldn’t hesitate to add his name to the list of casualties? Was he looking for some sort of protection?

“Why? What do you want, Diego?” He asked loudly and harshly, stepping forward so he invaded the other boy’s personal space.

That was a dangerous question. Diego knew exactly what he wanted, but for the longest time, he had trained himself not to say it, forced the words as far down his throat as he could. And now was not the time to say it, he didn't think such a time existed. Not anymore.

What Diego had prepared himself for was what Lorenzo wanted, what Diego thought he needed. And now was the time to say his pitch.

Another deep breath. And then he began.

"Yes, I saw everything that went down. I was there."

The words came out fluid, but not. An octave too high, creaks and cracks placed randomly in the words. He cleared his throat, prepared himself for the next sentence.

"You know Emil was an idiot right? His friends were too, apparently."

It felt wrong speaking ill of the dead so soon after the event, but hesitance wouldn't be rewarded. He didn't know much about Lorenzo, but he had a rough idea of his type, and they didn't really like associating with cowards. He continued.

"I saw what happened, and if they weren't so stupid, they could've easily killed you. You were outnumbered, and almost outwitted."

He looked Lorenzo in the eyes.

"I know only one person can make it out of here. But there is value in numbers, at least for now. If I'm around, you'll have better odds, the next time something like that happens."

Diego held up his shovel, turned his attention towards it.

"I may not look like it, I know. But I can pull my weight. I'm no weakling."

He passed his palm over the blade, almost wincing at the sting. He held back any expression, any noise, and showed the now-bleeding hand off to Lorenzo.

"See?"

Lorenzo stared down the smaller boy as he started to speak. First, his words came out unsteady and weak, but Diego seemed to regain a sense of confidence as he continued. It almost brought a bit of a smile to Lorenzo’s face. Almost. Lorenzo was still prepared to smash the boy’s skull in if need be. If he moved the wrong way, or said the wrong thing. If at any point Lorenzo thought he may try to attack him by surprise. Lorenzo trusted no one. That never changed from his days in Chattanooga. Everyone wanted something. You were only as good to someone as you were useful.

So what did Diego want with him? What role did he need Lorenzo to play? What use was he hoping to get out of him, and in return, what use was he offering?

Lorenzo sneered at him and snorted a bit of a laugh when he mentioned how he was nearly outmaneuvered in his fight with Emil. So he really had been watching. The boy wasn’t wrong. Lorenzo hadn’t thought his attack through. Emil had caught the upper hand for a moment. If he wasn’t such an idiot, it could be Lorenzo laying there dead. If they had decided to gang up on him, if Emmett hadn’t frozen, and Demetri hadn’t wanted to try and save him from himself… But that’s not what happened. Lorenzo got exactly what he wanted from that fight. The one thing Diego had no way of accounting for.

The tracker.

Diego cut his palm with the blade of his tactical shovel, and Lorenzo couldn’t help but to break out in a chuckle. It grew exponentially into a full fledged laugh, and Lorenzo had to lean forward and wrap one of his arms around his midsection as the laughter was causing his bruised and battered body to ache. The laughs eventually subsided, and Lorenzo stood tall again, sneering at the other boy.

“You really thought this out, huh?” He said, a jovial tone still in his voice.

“You miscalculated though, Diego.” He reached into his pocket and pulled the tracker out, holding it up so Diego could see the screen.

“I already have a means of avoiding groups and trouble. What do i need you for when I have this?”

Diego felt small. He had kept Lorenzo's gaze, but in the seconds it took him to reply, Diego had remembered how many inches Lorenzo had on him. He looked down, instead, at his feet, because Lorenzo kept looking down on him and he couldn't bear to see that anymore. It hurt.

In every thought Diego had had of confessing to Lorenzo, asking him out, it always, inevitably ended with laughter. It also hurt, but the pain of denying himself in his head would probably be a thousand times less than if it happened in real life. He needed the reminder, that it was just a fantasy. Something to drag him back to reality, keep him safe in the closet.

Diego had thought for hours and hours about this proposition, repeated every word to himself, rewrote every line, and it still hadn't been enough. The sound of laughter hurt his ears. They were harsh, scraping, and Diego wanted to run away right this second. He wanted to cry.

He didn't, though. He refused to let all those hours go down the drain.

He looked at the screen, showing two lonely dots inside a square.

Lorenzo must've seen some small circle on the edge of his screen, following him, like a fly, incessant.

Now, there was an idea.

He'd known Diego had been following him for hours, perhaps, but he didn't do anything about it. And not by choice, it seemed.

He picked his head up, returned to Lorenzo's gaze.

"You can't avoid trouble for forever, you know. You weren't able to avoid me, after all. Like, what if I- what if someone has a gun, puts you in a corner? What then? You can't avoid a bullet with that thing. What if you get to endgame without a gun? What good will that thing do then?"

He paused for a few seconds, before continuing. Hesitance was fatal, but he needed to collect himself, prepare himself. This next sentence felt risky, too risky, but again, cowardice would get him nowhere. He needed to make his point.

"You said yourself you have no allies. I don't know exactly what went down with you before we met, but you don't get an offer like this everyday. You're a player, you already have a target on your back. If Emmett and Demetri meet you again, by yourself, it won't go well. You need numbers to get the drop on people, groups even, you need numbers to look out for you, and you may not like it, want to admit it, but you need me."

He finally stopped, waited for his response.

Maybe he had gone too far.

Lorenzo had to give it to him, the boy had bigger balls than he previously gave him credit for. He was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to mouth off to someone who could smash his head in at any given moment. Lorenzo couldn’t help but smile as he listened to Diego’s rant. He wasn’t wrong, not really. Lorenzo would one hundred percent need a firearm of some sort to hold any kind of safety, especially going into the later days on the island. More and more names rattled off in the announcements were offed with a gun of some sort. That number was only going to grow as time went on. Lorenzo wouldn’t be able to hack it much longer with just a melee weapon. He needed something stronger. Something easier to kill with if he was up against a wall.

But Diego had one small detail wrong.

“Let’s get one thing straight, I don’t NEED anyone.” He narrowed his eyes and stepped in even closer to the other boy, peering down at him with cold eyes and a colder smile.

But, Diego could be useful, if utilized properly. Lorenzo wasn’t stupid. The look in Diego’s eyes was one he recognized. Even at the temple he’d seen it. Diego was offering himself, and he wanted Lorenzo in exchange. He wanted what they always wanted. All the boys wanted the same thing, even if they didn't want to admit it. Lorenzo was self-aware enough to know what he had to offer. And he was never one to turn it down in the past.

A memory flashed in front of his eyes. His car. The broken boy beside him. The wall of the ally smeared with blood from his knuckles. The smell of his own vomit and the taste of his tears. The look in the silver-haired boy’s eyes as they drove home in silence.

Lorenzo grimaced for a moment and stepped back. The grimace lasted nary a second. His mask was back on before the second passed. A smirk and half lidded eyes. A lie to protect himself. Diego wouldn’t be able to tell. Lorenzo could feel the pain in his chest from the memory though. Like a wildfire burning through his heart. Lorenzo reached out and caressed the side of Diego’s face, leaning in close as he whispered his next words.

“But you’re not wrong. I need a gun. How about this? Make yourself needed and be a scout for me. Be my eyes and find me my prize.” He stared deep into Diego’s eyes as he spoke.

Slowly and deliberately.

“I’ll keep you alive as long as it suits me.”

As long as was necessary.

“Deal?”

Diego could lift a finger, and he'd be touching Lorenzo. He had never been this close to any man before. Bumps raised on his skin, he felt he was standing at the edge of a cliff, an inch forward meaning doom. What form would that take? Maybe Lorenzo would opt to go slow, wrap his hands around his neck. Maybe Diego had outlasted whatever entertainment value he provided Lorenzo, whatever made him smile that way. After all, Lorenzo had just said that Diego wasn't needed, right? And Diego caught the grimace that flashed on Lorenzo's face for a second. So, that would be that. He had overstepped for the final time, Lorenzo was no longer smiling, which meant the audacity of his presence no longer amused Lorenzo, and perhaps he would receive a hammer to the head for all his troubles. The end.

And then that smile came back, sinister.

Fingers brushed against Diego's face, there was a sudden, sharp intake of breath, involuntary.

Diego's eyes fixated on Lorenzo's pupils, and vice versa, as Lorenzo replied. They were so dark. He felt as if he was being pulled inwards, as if he would be swallowed any moment now. But, he heard Lorenzo's answer. He'd been listening.

The proposition was accepted.

Diego had Lorenzo's company for as long as he was needed. As long as he stayed useful, he could learn from Lorenzo, acclimatize to the island. No need to consider what came after, yet.

"Deal."

Nothing more needed to be said.

The night went on in relative silence and quiet. Only the sounds of the rain pattering against the roof of the building breaking the stillness of the night. They slept in shifts, first Diego, then Lorenzo. An exercise in trust more than anything. Both lived to greet the morning, cementing the temporary alliance between the teens. Lorenzo found it funny. If Diego was smart, he would have taken the opportunity to kill and loot Lorenzo while he slept. But no, the kid wasn’t capable of making that kind of decision. Not yet. The island hadn’t sharpened his edge enough yet.

Lorenzo stood in the doorway in the morning light, smoking one of the few cigarettes he had left, watching as the rain fell on the dilapidated remains of the surrounding village. As he stared he wondered how many more had died since yesterday. At least one, of that he made sure personally. But how many others were newly crowned killers? How many killers were adding to their body counts? How many classmates had taken their last breaths?

Almost as if on cue, the morning announcements blared to life, and Lorenzo looked back at Diego as they started. Diego had surprised him. Lorenzo wasn’t expecting to gain any allies once he started on this path. Who would have guessed this small, frail-looking boy would have the stones to force himself into an alliance with a player? Was it courage, or was it something else? Lorenzo wasn’t sure yet. Regardless, no matter what kind of plan the other boy was attempting, Lorenzo would simply use him until he lost interest. Then he’d do what they did with most strays found on the street.

Euthanize it.

The voice he’d heard the last two days rang out over the island, and Lorenzo listened intently. The mascot was dead. Stabbed though, not shot. Camila was also dead. Lorenzo thought back to when he’d seen her at the pier. One person who’d heard his secret was gone. That only left three more. She was shot, and Lorenzo made a mental note of Michael’s name. Ty’s girlfriend poisoned stuck-up Blake Davis, and Lorenzo wasn’t sure if he should grin or shudder. Quinn was also packing heat, as she shot Ned to death. Blaise, that scumbag, shot goth Dolly, and Violet shot another girl. Two people he still had to silence.

He needed a gun to be on the same playing field.

His own kill was next, and he grimaced as it was recounted. Tristan was dead, killed by Emmett’s ex. Lorenzo wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He and Tristan had never been friends, but he always felt there was a mutual respect there. It was strange to know he was gone. Finally, Claudeson, the holier-than-thou prick himself, shot someone in the head. Lorenzo wasn’t surprised. People like him were bound to break when they realized all their beliefs were nothing but falsehood and empty rhetoric.

At least now there were some targets. A few people that definitely had guns. All they had to do now was find them, and rip the guns away. By whatever means necessary. Lorenzo took the tracker out of his pocket to check their perimeter. Clear enough to move on.

“Let’s go, Diego.” Lorenzo said forcefully, grabbing his bag and clipping his maul to his belt.

“We’re going hunting, and we’re wasting daylight.”

He took a last drag from the cigarette between his fingers and flicked it out into the rain, following behind it into the slowing storm. He looked back to make sure the other boy was keeping up, and walked into the trees near the building.

[Lorenzo Tavares Continued In Hell Is Other People]

Lorenzo had been nice enough to let Diego rest first, and he needed it. He was down to his boxers now, laying on his side, skin against cement. There had been hesitation in removing his shirt. After PE, in the locker rooms, Diego would be the last to leave. He would stay on the phone, pretending to wait out everyone else in the shower stalls. Not even risking a glance, it was too risky, too many men around him, too many people hostile to him. And then, once there was no one left for Diego to expose himself to, he would change.

It wasn't that he had any problems with his ribs, ridges on his chest, or his collarbones, spikes through his skin. And it wasn't that they would be seen that was the problem. It was the act of displaying them, inflicting them onto others. He enjoyed it, he wanted to be seen, and that was the problem. He would be inflicting his own fetishes, his own perversions onto other people, unwilling. Even if all they saw was his chest, he might as well be dropping his pants in the middle of English class, the intent was the same. So, behind he stayed in the locker room.

Those same thoughts lingered up to now, but he had worn the same clothes for three days now, and he felt that if he didn't remove them, they would stick to him permanently. His skin itched, prickled underneath damp fabric.

He wanted out of it.

So, off came his shirt, then his jeans. Lorenzo had seen more, he wouldn't mind.

There were worse people to be seen by, anyways.

Diego laid on his side, eyelids weighing more and more, staying closed for longer and longer. And in between these blinks were one-second, two-second glimpses of the back of Lorenzo's head, green, as he gazed out the entrance of the building.

Green was a stupid hair color. But by itself, it was comforting.

He went to sleep looking at green. His five succulents, by the window sill of his bedroom. He used to have Sarah, big sis, watch over them, but she was off to college, so now, he had left Mom directions on how to keep them alive, while he had been off in DC. He wondered if they were still alive now, if she had been able to keep them alive despite the circumstances.

He hoped so. He had worked so hard to sleep seeing green by tonight. He intended to sleep seeing green a week from now. And a month from now. And a year from now.

It felt almost like a dream, the fact that this was happening, that he was seeing green. He had anticipated it for so long, and now it was here.

There was always the chance it would go wrong. That this green would be the last thing he'd see. He would go to sleep, and Lorenzo would tire of him, hack him to death. But, Diego was feeling lucky. Lorenzo had had plenty of opportunity to do that last night, at the temple. But he didn't. Part of Diego thought back to Emil, the forest. The sight of green shouldn't have comforted him so much, he'd seen what Lorenzo had done. How the green had been speckled by red. But, it didn't matter anymore. The shock and disgust of the moment was just that, the gore had been so incomprehensible that Diego's mind just decided to leave it so, and that was good. Another step towards progress.

Lorenzo had had several opportunities to kill Diego, but he hadn't. So, Diego could sleep easy.

---

And he did.

Lorenzo woke him up for watch, and little happened. He shaved his face, the rain poured like waves, he brushed his teeth, the rain washed the mud off his legs. It was the first time he'd actually, properly cleaned himself since waking up. He felt renewed.

He changed out of his underwear, noted the camera pointing at him, looked back, and without pause, changed into new boxers, blue jeans, dark green T-shirt. He re-organized his stuff, put everything into one bag, brought the other empty bag, just in case. Organizing had been easy, the sentimental objects like pens, notepads, books, digital photos of his family and the gardening club, had all been confiscated by the terrorists. They had done all the hard work for him, and he was thankful for that.

The announcements played, the only thing of note was that Drew's boyfriend had killed someone. He wondered, for a moment, how he would take it, and then he didn't. It wasn't his problem, so he set it aside to the back corner of his mind. Diego had long learned how to set aside intrusive thoughts, unwanted thoughts.

When Lorenzo told him to set off, he was ready, and he walked off with bags and shovel in hand.

((Diego Larrosa continues in Hell is Other People))