Survival Of The Fittest

S091: CLAIRE HAIG — CONTINUED FROM "Here to Stay"

Claire had awoken at some point early in the morning. It was an unfortunate tendency that she'd never had the power to break—that is, waking up when she'd rather be asleep. Considering the time, though, it seemed rather fortuitous. It gave her time to do some things before the announcements occurred or Evie woke up, whichever came first.

She hated the feeling of having just woken up. It always made her feel gross and awful. Once the rheum had been rubbed clean from her eyes, she'd quickly detoured to the bathroom to make herself as clean as possible. There was no running water, but, at the very least, they hadn't confiscated anything related to hygiene. All of that was intact.

It wasn't exactly the most pressing priority—they were in a warzone—but it bugged her immensely. Back home, she'd been rigorous about her hygiene schedule, and going without a shower was something she never did. She hated the feeling of being unclean. It made it difficult to focus, and she wanted it to stop. Now was the best opportunity for that.

She brushed her teeth, flossed, and used mouthwash. Then, she did it again to make up for the fact that, in her tiredness, she hadn't done it the night before. After that, she poured water and scrubbed some soap on a washcloth, then cleaned herself as best she could. After that, she used shampoo, rinsed her hair, and conditioner, then rinsed again.

It was inefficient, and she knew that. But it made her feel a mite better than she had before. After that, she put on some deodorant and then changed out of her old clothes. Right now, Claire was glad she'd brought a backpack large enough for all her belongings and insisted on keeping it by her side on the trip. Preparation was a virtue.

She folded the shirt, slacks, and other garments, like her scarf, socks, and mask, and put them at the bottom of her bag. Her hat and coat got stowed next to the bag, and her glasses remained in their case. Then, she changed into new, clean clothes—a long-sleeved dark green shirt, a pair of jeans, and socks. Then, she put on her hat, coat, and glasses again.

She felt much cleaner and less horrible. A small victory, once again.

Claire walked back into the room and waited for the announcements. As it turned out, she wouldn't need to wait long—she'd woken up around the cusp of eight in the morning. In a matter of about fifteen minutes, the announcement played. Just as she had before, Claire tore some of the skin of her finger with her teeth and wrote in the manual.

She imagined it as a Necronomicon—a little black book of atrocity, sin, and death. In the hallowed halls of its records, she added more lines and rows of names—the keeper of the crypt and its custodian. There was always more red iron ink on the pages; the killings, after all, had continued and would continue to do so.

Her eyes narrowed at the old list as she made her new tallies. First, as always, were the dead. Again, just as she had before, she struck out their names, one by one, one after another. She did the task with grim finality and took great care to ensure the transcription was correct—she had tried to memorize them in the past.

BILL TAYLOR

MITCH MCDUFFY

ROBERTA CHEN

ZORA MORRISON

ZHIJUAN LUNG-ROMNEY

MARIAN DICK

TULL TALBOTT

INGRID WILDE

CEDAR DALISAY

JESS KAWAZOE

Next were the killers. Again, she tried not to cast judgment harshly and gave them room for plausible denial. In the best cases, they may have had a cause. Even in the worst case, there was a chance to return from their grievous actions. For some, anyway. She had no such sympathy for those marching at a soldier's pace.

DAENERYS TODD

JOSHUA JAMES

RUSSELL FITZROY

There were fewer new killers than there had been on the first day. Things had slowed somewhat. That, at least, was better news. The world hadn't gone entirely mad yet—or, perhaps, the madness had gotten to her if this sort of lesser evil had gained acceptance. Perhaps, now, they'd all gone off the deep end of the world.

Still, there was more to come. Three more killers, and unrepentant ones, at that. More black marks—summonses—that she would need to mark on the page. They, like as not, would need to be stopped by force rather than words; there was no room for more and more chances for them. Two were on the page already, so she added only one new name.

JEZZIE STARK •

Still, she hadn't forgotten that last name; the only one rendered incomplete, its four letters enough damnation on their own. Like Satan in Hell, it was at the bottom of its domain, deep within the depths of the iron-soaked page. He had gotten what he wanted from the moment he had awoken on this island: a notch on his record.

In a single motion, she underlined his name.

ALEX •

With any luck, she'd cross it out.

Her mouth felt gross.

[Evie McKown hasn’t gone anywhere yet.]

Evie stirred on the awkward perch she’d slept on. The infirmary bunks were much smaller than she was accustomed to sleeping on, and every slight move of her lanky form had her worried she’d roll clean off. After a while, she forced her eyes open and gripped the sides of her too-small bed to help sit up and twist into a less precarious, seated pose.

Claire was gone, but telltale sounds from the bathroom suggested she hadn’t gone far. Evie said nothing: a small gesture of privacy after the other girl had let her have the whole room the day prior. Fishing her pack out from below, the girl took a swig of water, swilled it around her mouth, gargled, then swallowed. She wished she had any proper toiletries, but all she’d put in her backpack were things for the bus, half of them since confiscated by the abductors: no Switch, no headphones, not even any comics, lest she try to write on them, apparently? She did have a comb though, so that was one way to pass the time waiting for their smug captor to speak or her partner in not-dying to come back, whichever was sooner. Forcing the teeth through at least 48 hours of grease and rough nights felt almost like an effort in futility, but Evie powered through, eager for a small victory.

Claire returned partway into the struggle, near its end. She didn’t say anything, just set to her weird writing-in-blood thing as the announcement blared to life soon after. Evie offered a wave, but her attention was already elsewhere.

For her part, Evie wasn’t sure which part to be most affected by. Another best friend dead. A third kill by Kitty. Alex managed to aim his spear properly on the second try. Ingrid apparently killed herself. Twenty one total dead already. Ten and a half per day, working apace to keep the attrition high. Evie couldn’t muster the emotion to be as outwardly hurt as when she’d heard the first roll call, heard Steve was gone. It just sat in the base of her stomach like a rock: any hope of peace was as good as dead by now, paranoia would reign. It already did, really. Hadn’t she herself been instantly suspicious of Connie?

Anyway. Turned out there was a stick of deodorant stuffed on one of the smaller pockets of her backpack, so that was a small bonus. Stained with her own blood she may be, but at least she could smell of whatever “Wolfthorn” was meant to be. Faintly orange-y, apparently. Yeah. Ten more classmates dead. Creeping dread weighing her down. But mundane existence soldiered on regardless of the pain.

“So…”

Evie’s voice emerged like a croak. She took another swig of water, coughed up whatever had been caking her throat overnight. Tried again.

“Like. It’s freezing outside. And other injured people might try coming here, and we’re pretty solid at first aid apparently. Should we just… stay here?”

Claire looked at Evie. Frankly, the other girl looked miserable—she had the battle-worn that came with two days of pain and toil. As she swished the water in her mouth, Claire nodded toward her bag. It seemed her companion hadn't been allowed to keep her own. Then, she nudged it toward the other girl.

"If you want, I've got some toothpaste, mouthwash, et cetera," she said. "Shampoo and conditioner, too." She was good at listing things. "I brought more than I needed, so I don't mind if we share a little." Another win for forethought—though she hadn't been prepared for this, exactly. She tried to pack as much as she could in advance.

Claire looked back at her grimoire. Rows and rows of names—soon, more would join them. Then, she turned back to Evie. "We can't stay here forever." It was the truth—both for practical and emotional reasons. "Maybe for another day, though. After that, we should go out and look for people. Our friends, you know?"

She paused. How many friends did she even have? Not that many unless she stretched the definition like lengths of taffy. "People like Kieran. Like Poppy." She hadn't seen either since the day before they'd gone on the trip. The only reason she knew they were alive was that she'd paid attention to the announcements.

Otherwise, as far as she knew, they were gone already.

"There are some wounds that we won't be able to heal. But we can prevent them from being made." She folded the paper and slipped it back into her coat pocket. The blood on her finger had started to dry. "Damage control isn't enough. Sooner or later, we'll need to take some amount of action. You know?"

Maybe she did.

Maybe she didn't.

She wasn’t wrong. Evie had already been robbed of her chance to see Steve and Mitch again, and the way her face sank the more Claire explained herself made the broad strokes of her own feelings plenty clear.

“Yeah…”

Even after pouring her heart out into a lens the day prior, she found it hard to replicate face-to-face. But she’d decided it before: no more hiding her power level, have the courage to die as herself if she wasn’t going to get the privilege of living as her.

“Mitch, Steve,” she began, her mind wandering to Steve’s Skateballing stunt. Add Liya to that list and fully half the video’s stars were already dead. What were the odds of that? She didn’t relish the thought of finding out who was next on the list, and yet she knew damn well she’d be listening out for Leslie or Madeleine whether she liked it or not next announcement.

Evie swallowed, and decided it would probably be wise to move on soon. Maybe today when it was warmer, close to high noon. Maybe tomorrow when she was another night better healed. But soon. But where?

“…I hope I can see Kelsey again.”

Evie paused for a second, rubbed the beginnings of tears from the corners of her eyes. Went back for another pass, to make it look more like she was clearing out sleep gunk instead. Then she changed the subject.

“Anyway. Do we have a good way of getting more drinkable water? I don’t wanna wake up a couple days from now and realise I’m out, y’know?”

Even so, she was already approaching the offered bag. Cold water and colder weather be damned, the sense of normality and control that getting to wash her hair and brush her teeth represented was too good to pass up.

"Okay, Lara, stay close to me. Let's have a look around"

((Chloé Delacroix continued from Wake-up Call))

Her legs were burning, but it was with a fire that kept her going. They'd made good speed across the island, following Marshall's general direction- his footprints had disappeared on the outskirts of town where the shelter of the buildings ended and the elements had swept them away. There had been no sign of him so far, but Chloé hadn't expected there to be. The idea was to overtake him by running the most direct route, then they could double back and search more thoroughly on the return journey. That way they were more likely to run into him, rather than let him get further and further ahead.

It was a little after noon now, and they'd arrived at the research station, the second largest settlement on the island if their map was accurate. If Marshall had beat them here, he might have stopped to rest; even his energy wasn't infinite. Either way, there'd be other people around. Other potential allies. Chloé had been working on her strategy en route. This wasn't going to be a repeat of the last morning; this time, she was going to get people on board. Of course, that still had to include Lara. The other girl had followed her around diligently so far, but she had yet to hear the full pitch herself.

Approaching one of the smaller buildings, Chloé peered through the window. There were two people inside. Neither was Marshall- it looked like Evie and Claire, neither of whom Chloé knew all that well. They were both pretty friendly in her experience, and both were still innocent as of the morning's announcement. With that in mind, she rapped her knuckles on the glass confidently.

The two of them had certainly been walking for a while.

Lara had followed Chloé for a long while. Too long, in her opinion. She claimed that they had followed the footprints of Marshall, a particularly excitable and active lacrosse player, but the trail had gone cold as soon as they left the mining town. Lara did not know whether or not Chloé was telling the truth about the path. Sure, they could have been Marshall's footprints, but it also could have been a convenient lie. Lara had been following the class president for what, a day and a half now? And yet, there was still no sign of this mythical group. If Chloé was acting as her Moses, then she had still not led her to the Promised Land, and Lara was getting rather skeptical about the fact that one even existed. If nothing materialized, then she had half a mind to leave entirely.

As Chloé peered around in the buildings, Lara kept her eyes out for others, hoping they'd be easy to spot in the afternoon sun. It had been a while since she'd been around the research station. It was here that she'd found Derek, Chiara, and Micah. Lara had heard nothing of any of them since the first night. She thought nothing of what Chiara and Derek were doing. She hoped Micah was burning in hell.

Lara jumped with a start when Chloé rapped on the glass of a building. She hadn't been focused on what the class president was doing. Apparently, she found it prudent to knock on this particular door. Silently, Lara raised her fists in a defensive manner, ready for whatever was on the other side of that door.

Someone was there.

If Claire had a weapon, she'd have grabbed it then—drawn her sword against whatever potential threat might have arrayed her. But she didn't. The idea was a childish fantasy and nothing more. Just as quickly, her eyes darted, cat-like, to the source of the noise. A tap on the windows, a face behind the smudged, dirty panes.

She stared back, eyes like a sea creature on the other side of the aquarium glass. Her gaze flitted with curiosity. Then, she looked to Evie and spoke quietly, in a veiled tone that shattered their long reverie. "We've got company." Then, she paused and looked back at the window again, something on the tip of her tongue.

"Chloé. She was the class president," she said. Claire had frittered her vote away back in school. She had never been occupied with the school's social sphere and had little use for things like the student council. She didn't think about it much. Her interest was in politics at a higher level—not that she ever got anything she wanted from a vote.

Here, though, the only law was the law of the jungle, the will of the strong. The only creed their captors expected them to follow was simple, explained in three little words: "might makes right." This island—were one to think of it as a government of sorts—could only be called a kraterocracy. It was the simplest form of tyranny.

And, of course, there would be no honest account.

As the axiom went, their history—everything that transpired here—would be written by the victors. And, as another saying said, "vae victis," woe to the conquered. The truth would lie in the scattered ashes and teeth they left behind amidst the ruins they built for themselves. All of it would remain, forgotten, on an island that had a startling resemblance to Hell.

Claire snapped back into focus. She'd gotten lost in her thoughts for too long. She took another glance at Evie, then back at their erstwhile elected official, and then took a step closer to the window. Her hand pushed the glasses further up her face. Then, loud enough for them to hear her through the glass, she spoke:

"Friend or foe?"

Evie sat up pretty swiftly. She’d been back on the hospital bed, daydreaming of nicer times. It was the most comfortable she’d been in days, and that wasn’t a sensation to be given up easily.

Her mind had wandered in several directions, she’d pondered what became of Connie, what her surviving friends were up to, what she’d do if she managed to find Kelsey… and well, that line of thinking had led her back to a certain game of Super Smash Bros in a warm and cosy lounge. Indeed, the phantom of a smile still dragged at the corners of her mouth even as she was dragged back to reality first by the not-so-ambient rapping sound, then by Claire’s response.

Chloé?

Evie had voted for Teddie, she found herself remembering, unbidden. It had been something of a throwaway all told, her interest in politics was more confined to the little colourful pie charts that went alongside leader portraits and national focus choices. Of course she knew on some level that it wasn’t so simple as “Winston Churchill, Democratic, therefore good, Adolf Hitler, Fascist, therefore bad”, they were literally called the British Empire at the time. But that understanding hadn’t entirely made its way to the present day, in which she still assumed all the candidates in America must be pretty okay… or she did, until a certain Canon got her thinking more critically, realising just how recently it was that a man like George Wallace had been able to legitimately split the vote in three.

Anyway, point was, student politics hadn’t interested her very much either way. They didn’t have any real power, the administration would do what it wanted at the end of the day, so it seemed to mostly serve as a way for popular kids to flex their popularity. So Evie had voted for her confidante, figuring he at least had verifiable integrity. She decided it was probably best not to bring it up at all. What a waste of good thinking.

Meanwhile, Claire had approached and interrogated the newcomer’s intentions directly. Much more useful. Evie slid to her feet and cast her eyes about the room for anything large and blunt enough to pass as a means of self-defence. Nothing much. Maybe she could topple a bed on someone and get creative with a towel? Chloé didn’t look all that strong. Probably wasn’t hostile either? It got harder to choose to assume that with each passing day.

Ultimately, she just edged closer to the door, ready to jump into action and hold it closed if need be. Or something else. Hopefully not something else.

“Friend!”

It’s a necessary precaution, Chloé reminded herself, not letting her smile falter. It hurt that Claire was suspicious of her, when she’d never done anything to the girl and was only trying to help them. But she herself hadn’t immediately trusted Kai, or even Lara; she had to allow others the same chance to be cautious, she had to earn their trust. If Claire was as reserved as Chloé remembered, there’d be more to that process than just answering ‘friend or foe’ correctly. She would have to be patient, and she would have to be reasonable. Claire was bright, Chloé remembered that too. She might respond well to logical arguments.

Chloé wondered if Evie was more trusting than her companion. It was difficult to judge her reaction since she hadn’t approached the window as Claire had, but she had always seemed cheerful and friendly back home, much less withdrawn than Claire. If Chloé could win her over first, that might help convince the other girl to come along too. Emotional arguments might have a better effect on her, but really Chloé couldn’t be sure until they properly started talking. With the girl almost out of sight, that couldn’t exactly happen through the window.

“So, can we come in?”

Realising the plural pronoun might be news to Evie and Claire, she beckoned Lara over and shifted slightly to allow room for both of them at the window.

“You guys know Lara, right?”

Seeing that Chloé had waved her over to the window, Lara assumed that the class president was done with diplomacy. Lowering her fists, she walked over to the window, peering in through the smudgy glass and taking a gander inside.

The room looked like a hospital room, and she assumed that it looked clean and sterile back when it was in use. Now though, it was in disrepair from what she assumed were years of neglect combined with the AT's ransacking of the place.

The first person she noticed in the room was Claire, who she did not know particularly well. She wasn't even sure what her last name was. Lara had heard her voice asking whether or not they were friends of foes, so she wasn't clueless enough to trust them right away. She had some survival instincts, at least.

The second pers-

Evie.

Oh.

Lara almost immediately turned away from the window, turning her back to the inside of the room. She swiveled her head around, furiously checking the areas around them for threats that probably did not exist.

An answer came back through the dirty glass. It was a single word. In a world of allies and enemies, they claimed to be allies. To some, that would've made all the difference. Claire had her doubts. This island changed people. And, of course, everyone was a friend until they had a knife to your back.

Alex claimed to be a friend too. Until he didn't anymore, and by then, his spear was in his hand, then buried in Evie's shoulder. Claire's demeanor stayed closed. There were four walls and her, a quincunx. She flashed a look to Evie. It was suspicion. After all, the shadows were the longest in the early hours of the morning.

When it came to the two of them—Chloé and Lara—Claire knew little. They didn't run in the same circles if you could even say she had one of her own. Chloé, at least, was someone everyone knew, but Lara was an unknown other than in athletics. She knew nothing about sports and had never cared to pry any further.

"Your call," she turned and said to her companion. Her voice had a tinge, almost a cat's hiss, of anxiety, but there was no hostile intent in her words. Her eyes scanned the two of them like a retina scanner. Then, she stepped back from the windowsill to commiserate with her companion. Diplomacy wasn't her forte.

”So, can we come in?”

Wait, who was we? Evie briefly saw a glimpse of someone familiar, but then they…

”You guys know Lara, right?”

Oh. Yes, Evie did know Lara. Wind back the clock about a month, it might’ve been her occupying Evie’s daydreams rather than Kelsey, depending on the day and the dream. Or b…

Evie’s head twitched awkwardly, like she’d felt a stabbing pain in her neck. In truth, she was trying to violently shake the remainder of her imagination out of her conscious mind. Now wasn’t the time. Bad.

“Yeah, I know Lara!”

By Evie’s estimation, Lara was a decent enough person. Kind of like Beatrice: ought to be imposing with that physique, was instead mostly reassuring. And maybe she still felt she owed Evie? In any case, Evie didn’t feel threatened, and did feel like leaving the two girls out in the literal cold would be somewhat of a dick move. She took a step back from the door.

“Cmon, make yourselves warm.”

Lara’s head appeared next to hers, took one look at Evie, and disappeared. For a second Chloé thought that Evie and Lara must hate each other’s guts or something. That was a problem she had pondered on the way over: how best to navigate any bad blood between allies? If she made as many as she intended to, it was bound to come up eventually- she wanted her cheer team at her side, for one thing, and there was plenty of drama there. She hadn’t figured out the solution yet though, so it was a relief when Evie invited them in anyway.

If anything, she sounded almost excited about Lara’s presence. If they didn’t dislike each other, Chloé could only think of one other reason Lara might be awkward around her. She cast a look over her shoulder at Lara, a slight smile and a raised eyebrow, then wasted no more time stepping inside. The cold had been catching up to her outside since they stopped moving, but it was much more comfortable within.

“Thank you, Evie.”

It looked like Chloé’s initial expectations had been accurate. Evie was trusting them so far, and Claire was trusting Evie’s judgement, allowing her the final call on their entry. It was Evie that her focus returned to, after giving a quick inspection to the room and a kind smile to Claire.

“It’s good to see you guys in one piece. Are you doing alright, all things considered?”

"Thank you," Lara mumbled, hastily stepping into the infirmary. She made no attempt to look at either of the two girls already inhabiting the area and instead pulled up a chair, quickly sitting down and staying silent. Chloé was the one who had diplomacy skills and tact, with a good measure of charisma to back it up. All of that was something far out of Lara's skill set.

She wasn't sure how she felt seeing Evie. Sure, it was nice to see her again, and it was good that she wasn't injured, but it was still unnerving to see her on the island. It meant that her fate was sealed, just like everyone else. Evie would almost certainly die here, and unlike the other corpses Lara had seen, it would be much more meaningful. Much more impactful. Much more... unpleasant. She gulped, trying to physically repress the feelings that were bubbling up in her gut. No. She could not succumb to such things, such emotions. Doing so would be the death of her. Logic had to prevail if she wanted to remain alive for as long as she could manage to in the godforsaken hellhole.

Claire nodded and tried to smile back. There was no need to cause friction in the group. Still, she kept her eyes on the new arrivals. She would be the first to know if any of them tried something. Then again, neither presented an obvious threat to their lives. If either had a weapon, it was small and hidden. Out of sight, out of mind.

Still, it didn't sit well with her. The original phrase was "care killed the cat," but Claire didn't think it applied. At the moment, worrying wasn't the most likely thing to kill her on this island. A more likely cause of death would be other people. Again, Alex was the primary example: you couldn't trust someone until you knew all the cards in their hand.

"Good to see you too," Claire said back. It was the polite thing to do. "And, well, we're okay. But we could be a hell of a lot better." Well, that was a universal statement right now. A game of life and death wasn't exactly the most pleasant way to spend the day. "It's not my idea of a good vacation, that's for sure."

She wished she hadn't even gone on the trip.