Survival Of The Fittest

The moonlit waves of the ocean brushed against the boat and her flesh figurehead, still anchored and rotting in place.

((A dark figure)) emerged onto the deck a little ways up, hunched over as it dragged its way to the rail of the ship. After a few stops and huffs and pants, it made it to the barrier. The girl stopped again to wipe her forehead, and then with one final squat she rolled the corpse of Ron Kiser up and threw it overboard, watching as the body flopped along the side of the deck and plopped into the water below.

The girl wiped her hands against the railing and smacked the palms together a few times before returning to the cabin through the back door.

The back door that wouldn't open, so she huffed and backtracked the long way around anyway.

((continued from the fart gallery))

"Aight," she said, flopping down on the kinda musty couch thing next to her compadre from another madre. It had like no cushion left but like... her feet hurt, so she'd make do. "I think it's just us girls now except for Stepney but I ain't touching that, so... yeah. Let's talk about next steps. We gotta be gettin' close to Erika by now. I can feel it, so let's keep going with that."

She tilted her head up. Silence and no reply again, rinse and repeat for how the last day wandering around went. Couldn't tell if Yuka was giving the cold shoulder or suddenly went deaf or something but all she was doing was staring down and picking at the nubs that used to be her fingers again which like UGH come on we get it; girl, get some new material.

The girl lying down frowned, tapping her heel up and down on the damp floor waiting for a response that just wasn't coming. "So like.... yes? No? Bueller? Bueller?"

((Yuka Hayashibara continues from We're All Excited, We Don't Know Why, Maybe It's 'Cause, We're Gonna Die))

So, yesterday had been a bust, actually, what with the whole 'almost getting crippled by some psycho Scot and his datefriend' deal. Also, Teresa had kinda hung her out to dry, so talking wasn't really on the menu of things to do.

But, there weren't a lot of things to do once you took that off the menu. Your mind tended to wander. Go unwanted places.

She looked at her finger stumps for the twentieth or so time today. It was fascinating how, like, she could still feel it there. She'd read a story, once, about how someone felt something brushing against their phantom limb. So, like, was there another universe where some disembodied fingers lay? Where they just floated, in sync with Yuka's movement? Was it just a land of, like, floating limbs and missing body parts, or is that were dead things dwelled in general? She vaguely recalled the story having something to do with ghosts. So, is that where-

God, she was bored. Talking was better than thinking about this again.

Yuka looked up, her attention snapping back to this world.

"Who's Bueller?"

Who... who's Bueller? Man, Yuki really must've been the one that got all the braincells, or at least the one that didn't live under a pastel rock.

The girl on the couch rolled her eyes and scoffed under her breath, turning upright onto her stomach on the couch. "Nevermind."

She glanced down at her own nails. Still caked in dirt and blood and other Ron juices. Didn't really know what she expected oogling at them, but she still had all ten so like that was something.

Let's try this again.

She started picking at the bed of the nails with her own thumbs before reiterating. "So, Erika tomorrow? Yes or no? Or do you wanna try looking for that Darlene bitch?"

Yuka's nails weren't as dirty, she hadn't volunteered for the corpse-throwing duties so there was that. But, the whites were long, almost yellowed, the paint she'd applied before the bus ride had long since chipped away. Another layer washed away.

She wondered how her face looked after everything. It hadn't occurred to her to pull out her mirror, in the week she'd been on this island.

"Yeah. If we find her. Don't really give a fuck about Darlene, T-B-H. Nick can still suck it."

"He's probably used to sucking a whole lotta things. Same with that Willow slut; she gonna need a chiropractor if I ever see that bitch again."

God, these nails were so dirty. If she somehow made it out of this alive she was heading straight for the nail salon. Kinda already overdue, anyway.

Now, for the elephant in the room. Or the boat. Whatever, you know what she meant.

"So, uhm..." the words drawled out, each syllable sharp yet dull as she continued to pick at her nails. "Noticed you've been kinda quiet all day. Everything still Gucci?"

There was a snort from Yuka's nose, forced. She wasn't sure how chiropractors figured in innuendos and stuff, but it wasn't important.

Teresa sounded kinda pissed when she spoke next. As if she had the right to expect anything but silence, after the Nick thing.

"...yeah, no, yeah, everything's still Gucci."

Her eyes wandered towards the missing fingers. Towards her legs.

"Just, like, pretty fucking tired of losing, you know?"

"I see." She clicked her teeth. "Yeah, totes magotes. At least we probably just gotta keep on for just the next few days and we'll show up those bitches. We won't be losers when we're the only ones with a pulse."

A rogue wave knocked againt the side of the boat, gently shaking the passengers and its contents for a few seconds.

She was never much of one for boats. Gran'ma had wanted to take her out on some cruise in July around the Gulf of Mexico for her graduation ostensibly but probably as a family bonding thing but lmao fuck that. Blood thicker than water and all that crap but nothing was worse than being trapped on a boat with the same people for 2 weeks.

Kinda funny how that worked out, huh?

When the gentle rustle stopped, she sat up and stretched. "Anyway, I hope something happens tomorrow. Sure has been boring around here lately. Really hate to see it."

It was always just that. Hope something better happens. Hope that, next time, things would go better. Fucking tiring.

She let out a long, slow exhale.

"Not much to do on an island in the middle of nowhere, who knew?"

Yuka threw up her hands.

"You said something about pills yesterday, yeah?"

"Yeah. Still want them?"

Yuka's eyes lit up for the first time in a while.

"Yeah! Been waiting all day for them, honestly."

A few seconds passed, some confusion flickered across her face.

"What kind of pills we talking about though?"

"Cool, cool," STREET PHARMACIST said under her breath as she pushed herself to her feet and walked over to her duffel bag by the busted door. Just enough light poured in from the windows that she could grope around for a bit easily.

"Michael said sum'n about them being LSD or at least some kinda party drug. Didn't really say anything else since he dumped them on me, but I don't think he was tryna poison me because that'd be a dumb way of doing things, so..."

The plastic baggie brushed against the back of her hands. She pulled it out, shaked it a bit, and held it up to the light. Yep, these were the ones.

She lobbed the bag at Yuka with a clean underhand toss. "Knock yourself out."

"Hm."

She considered the bag for a few moments. Weighed it in her hand.

"I'll just this aside for now, I think. Don't really trust frog boy after he ran off, actually. Croaked off, whatever."

She sighed, put down the bag, laid it next to her seat on the couch.

There was nothing else to do or say, now. Nothing to else to talk about. So, might as well.

"Yo, we really need to think up better strats for, like, robbing people and shit."

She displayed her left hand.

"Can only lose so many fingers, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Need a plan in case Willow or Sierra or Katrina or the goat fucker shows their faces again, too."

She reclaimed her musty throne, lied prone and went back to picking at her nails.

"...But, idunno. Wish we had better stuff besides a knife and a dinky ass needle gun. I had a fucking bear trap earlier 'til that whore Princess tried to square up on me, but whatevs. You got any ideas?"

"Hm.



"Surprise is our best friend, I guess?"

She threw her hands up again.

"I don't know too. I don't have anything else."

She'd agitated so much for some sort of plan, but she didn't have any herself. She'd kinda hoped Teresa would have one (1) idea, but that was too much to ask for, right?

Surprise was really all they had. Erika and Katrina had good weapons, she knew from experience. They were woefully unequipped. Underdogs, once again.

"God, I hate Michael. Should've taken that gun from him and shot Catherine myself. Him too, for good measure."

Hm. She'd said that before. Before they ran into Faith, she wanted to say. The banter felt perfunctory. Despite the lack of conversation between them, it was almost as if she was running out of things to say.

"Yeah, I should'a shanked him when I had the chance. Oh well. Rip. At least he's probably made himself useful and thinning the numbers out; that's why you gotta make friends with the school shooter."

She yawned and flipped over on her back, nestling into the drooping and underfluffed couch cushion. What time was it? Besides time to get a watch.

"Idunno about you but I'm all sorts of tired and my brain's all sorts of busted." She closed her eyes as the words slowed down. "Let's just sleep on it for now, 'kay?"