Survival Of The Fittest

It was early in the morning, though not so early that she hadn't already heard the news. As it tended to, the announcement woke Amaryllis up. She hadn't slept much. Every time she tried, she could only see one face, blossoming in hallucinated colors on the inside of her eyelids. Seething and gasping for breath, it was there, unblinking, every time she closed her eyes. But now, even beyond the fact that Janice's death had meant Amaryllis and Lily could continue, for at least a few hours more, to live out the rest of whatever this existence could still mean—even more than that, it meant that they would thrive.

For that had been their course; while comrades and old friends went off and perished in unseen corners, Amaryllis and Lily had scavenged, lucked into weapons, accrued a surplus. With the one kill to her name, and Amaryllis not credited, Lily could easily find a place high in a tree and camp out, run off some velvet morning with every scrap of food to their names and escape the island.

Yet by the same token, Amaryllis had found in herself a bottomless reservoir of faith that Lily would not—could not—do such a thing.

[Amaryllis Peszek-Byrne continued from An Inevitably Bad End]

She spent her morning waiting for Lily to come back. Her time was occupied by the usual morning routine at this point; finding a place relatively uncamera'd and getting to work with a spare bar of soap and a dampened T-Shirt/impromptu washcloth from her bus bag on the sweat that collected while she slept, the grime of the last day or so. There were showers here and they didn't work and not enough water to spare to pretend that they did. This morning it occurred to her that the terrorists could have easily packed them all some dry, powdered shampoo. Amaryllis supposed then that the encroaching sense of filthiness was part of the point that she had put off, for a few days, trying to suss out. But now she had some time alone, and it came creeping back.

The sun in the sky continued to rise, though Amaryllis could not see it. A storm was brewing. If there was anywhere to fortify on the island in the face of a blizzard, she wasn't sure the changing room building was it. For starters, the inside was ransacked, lockers bursted open, clothes and helmet pieces scattered all over the floor. The extra clothes weren't much use, all shrunken with decay, though if she could find an intact helmet that might be something. Still—the building had no windows, which meant no way to tell if someone was on their way in, save exposure to the elements for a sentry posted outside.

For now, Amaryllis could serve as such a sentry, though she'd suggest a move whenever they had finished poring over Lily's loot. Across the length of the mine, set on a ledge above the complex, was the Foreman's Office. Surreal to think that a place she could see with her own two eyes, could conceivably walk over to in less than ten minutes, was bound behind an invisible line that meant certain death. Lily was behind that line, somewhere inside, in a place where Amaryllis could not go. And she wondered now if that was meant both the way it was and the way that it sounded.

Amaryllis' thoughts turned over and collected like mancala beads in her mind, moving between pockets of consciousness. Because what if Lily didn't come back? What if she decided that she'd rather rough it with just what she got from the care package and nothing else? Another circuit of the board completed. Did Lily not also feel that the two of them had been exceptionally lucky, so far? Did Lily feel like Amaryllis was a burden, too?

She couldn't stop thinking about it. It was more than a synchronicity, than some chance occurrence of fate, a delusion about the way the world worked; the causal chain of events that made Amaryllis responsible for the fact that Lily had killed was clear. It was to Amaryllis, at least. She was just as sure that Lily didn't recognize it—consciously, that is. Did a deep down part of her harbor some resentment? Did that resentment outweigh the lucky feeling?

And how much of this train of thought could be blamed on withdrawal, anyway? Caffeine withdrawal, cannabis withdrawal, some degree of nicotine withdrawal, it all made her fidgety, anxious, a jumper to conclusions. It was best to not think about it. To not even think about not thinking about it.

There was a half-melted snowman, back turned to her, facing the woods. Amaryllis got up to check it out. If it had had a face, or arms, at some point, she couldn't find them now; they had fallen off and disappeared somewhere in the snow. Soon they would be buried for good.

"Poor thing," Amaryllis said.

She wouldn't say anything more. Talking to snowmen—there was no better sign that she was slipping.

Silently, she got down to the ground and started looking for the missing pieces.

In the distance, the door to the foreman's office opens up, a small head peeking out to scan her surroundings before making her way outside. Closing the door behind her, she then rushes down the stairs and starts running back towards the worker's changing room, hoping to return to her companion before someone spotted her.

((Lillian Larsen continued from An Inevitably Bad End))

Nobody was more surprised that morning than Lily when it was announced that she had won the Best Kill Award.

It never even occurred to her that she was in the running for it, let alone have a shot at winning the damn thing. It was all so surreal, her mind a hurricane of conflicting thoughts as it all sank in. Like most of her classmates, she found the whole idea behind the BKA sickening, now more so than ever after realising what it was like to be congratulated for something so terrible. A part of her was tempted to not go after it, the thought of being rewarded for the most traumatic moment of her life amplifying her guilt tenfold.

Granted, in the end pragmatism and a hungry belly won out, especially when she realised just how close they were to the danger zone. Much as she hated to admit it, they couldn't afford to turn down such an obvious boon. It would've just gone to waste otherwise, or worse ended up in the hands of someone with less scruples.

And so she ventured out to collect her bloody reward, the entire trip taking less than twenty minutes, panting and trudging through the snow as she returned to the changing room as quickly as she could.

"Hey..." she gasps, panting and wiping her brow as she stops by the door. She was wearing a fresh t-shirt, her Black Phillip shirt stained red after her encounter with Janice, and her bag was looking heavier than before. Perhaps most notable was the long metal tube sticking out its side, one with the distinctive shape of a rifle barrel.

"Nice snowman..." she says, before gesturing for Amaryllis to follow her. "C'mon, don't want to let breakfast get cold, do we?"

Lily made her way back inside the changing room, seeking out a bench where she would sit herself down and start shifting through her bag's contents.

"So, I've got a very important question for you..." she continues, pulling out a pair of plastic utensils. "Spoon, or fork?"

On hearing Lily's voice, Amaryllis nearly faceplanted into the snowman's side. She hadn't heard Lily's approach. Apparently there was enough coverage on the ground to obscure her footfalls. Amaryllis righted herself around on the ground, and saw the conspicuous tube jutting out from Lily's back.

"Nice metal pipe," Amaryllis said, "but the snowman isn't mine. I was just patching him up. He's been futzed with, face-wise."

Face-wise?

Mercifully Lily lead her back inside away from floor time. They found themselves back near the benches and started to unpack the spoils. The utensil question prompted Amaryllis to remember what she'd heard before, the contents of the meal.

"I guess we'd better eat the pot-roast while it's hot," she said, mulling it over. "Even if it's a weird breakfast. I can take the spoon."

Lily earned the fork, Amaryllis thought.

"What sort of donuts did you get?" she asked.

Lily nodded in agreement, passing Amaryllis the spoon before reaching back into her bag. A moment later she produced a small pink-and-white box of donuts, flipping the lid open to start scanning its contents.

"Let's see... One boston kreme, very appropriate. One strawberry frosted with sprinkles, always a classic. And a..."

Her brow furrowed, staring down at the third donut. A bavarian creme affair with yellow vanilla icing, and a chocolate smiley face that resembled an emoticon. "Mr Happy" she says, her mind flashing back to Gabe's grotesque Blood Boy costume from last Halloween. An intentional tribute to a bygone time? Who knows, she certainly wouldn't put it past them. She wasn't even entirely sure if he was real, or just one of the many myths that emerged from those earlier games.

Sighing and putting it out of mind, she placed the box on the side. "Well, can split the Homer between us, then pick one of each. But first..." she says, reaching back into her bag to lift out a plastic container, placing it down between them with a grin. "Breakfast is served."

Steam emerged from the container as she lifted the lid, closely followed by the warm aroma of cooked beef and vegetables. Lily took a moment to breathe it in before sinking her fork into a beef chunk, slowly lifting it up to her lips to take a cautious bite.

She paused, chewing slowly, her eyes starting to water as she swallowed it down and covered her mouth. "Oh my Fucking god" she gasps, before sinking her fork into another piece, ravenously chowing down as she shared the roast with her companion.

All things considered, it wasn't THAT great. It was relatively fresh given how close they were to the danger zone, but it was still far from perfect given the conditions. But after having eaten nothing but stale bread and tasteless ration bars for five days straight, it was the most divine meal she'd ever had.

Amaryllis, too, was shocked upon her first bite of the roast, so much so that she gave in and pinched herself to make sure that she was not dreaming. When her open eyes did not open again, and the roast remained before her, she dug in, scarfing down bite after bite of what could very well be her last real meal.

Lily looked up as she continued to eat, watching as Amaryllis tucked into her share. It occurred to her in that moment that despite having spent the past several days with Amaryllis, they hadn't really spoken that much, outside of discussing where to explore next and what their next move ought to be. In apropos of nothing, she swallowed a chunk of potato before clearing her throat.

"So, uh... I don't think I ever got around to asking how you're..." she began, then paused for a fraction of a second. "How you're holding up after what happened with Liya the other day" she said cautiously, as her fork sought out another bite. "You were both pretty close, right?"

"We were in a band together," Amaryllis said, in between bites. She didn't look up from her food. "I'm not sure that I've processed it, not all the way. Honestly, a part of me is holding out hope that I don't get the chance to."

"But," she continued, "in the band, Liya played bass. I played guitar and sang."

"Yeah, the Phantom Violets, right?" Lily asked, holding a beef chunk aloft on the end of her fork. "Always meant to see one of your shows. I guess I..." she continued, before stopping, realizing there wasn't much point in stating the obvious as she took another bite.

"I'm sorry..." she said, stirring with her fork.

"It's okay," Amaryllis said, "You don't have anything to apologize for. You didn't do anything."

Her eyes drifted again to the metal sticking out of Lily's bag as she chewed on a piece of beef.

"Wouldn't happen to be a guitar, there, would it," she half-asked in a deadpan monotone.

"I wish..." Lily chuckled half-heartedly, taking another bite as she glanced back. "I mean... Suppose I can't exactly complain, though I'm not quite sure how I'll make the most of... Well, I'll show you once we've finished brunch here..." she says between bites, turning back to Amaryllis.

"Although..." she added as a thought crossed her mind. She turned around and back to her bag, reached in and rummaged around. "I can share this" she said, and produced an insulated water bottle. Lily opened the lid and passing it over to Amaryllis. "Mint tea, supposedly."

Amaryllis took the tea, still looking at the metal. Something about it felt familiar to her, though not very closely. She unscrewed the cap on the tea and took a swig—and then tilted her head back and drank a big gulp, taking her head away after she'd drank a fifth of the bottle.

"Thank you," she said. "It's very good. Though you'd think with the donuts they'd give us some coffee, or something hot. Nobody goes to Dunkin' for the food."

Lily shrugged. "Maybe they wanted to keep to coffee to themselves?" she chuckled, reaching out for the bottle once it was returned to take a swig of her own. It wasn't a hot as it would've been to start with, having been left to cool off in a cold mining facility. But, she couldn't deny that it was nice to get some caffeine in her system after running on empty for almost a week. "Remember this one time a couple friends asked if I'd like to meet up at Dunkies, and started laughing when I got confused about what they were talkin' about..."

"Donkey's? Is that, like, a mule themed fast food joint or something?" she quoted, before laughing softly at the awkward memory.

Amaryllis smiled. "Somehow I forgot you're not from Mass," she said, "I mean, I knew before, but since I ran into you, it slipped my mind, I guess. You guys get Wawa or whatever the hell it's called, right? In Philly? How does that stack up?"

Lily nodded. "Mmm, it's... I mean, it's okay I guess? There's some places in Terminal Market where you can get a killer Philly Cheesesteak, the ones up north... Not quite the same" she sighs, taking another idle bite as she thought back to home. "Still, at least the donuts are good" she said, reaching down for the pink frosted and splitting it in half, handing one off to Amaryllis as she took a bite out of the other. "You from Mass yourself, or..."

"Born and raised," Amaryllis said. She was happy to get half of each of the donuts; she didn't want to stick Lily with the weird one that had a face. The first bite was almost too much for her deprived palette after a few days of bland bread, crackers, and protein bricks. The rich taste of the pot roast, the savory mint tea, and now the donut—she was beginning to feel herself come back, somewhat, and yet she knew that later on, when she crashed, when she had to eat the normal food again, that it would be worse than the first time.

"I've never been to Philly. Though I've been to Charley's at the Corner Mall, and they had cheese steaks, which were killer."

"MMMmmm, I've tried those! Not bad, for a Bostonian cheesesteak..." Lily said. She smirked, with a hint of cheekiness about her. "Philly's great though. If we ever make it out of this, I..." she said, her words faltering as a certain elephant in the corner started glaring at her, taking the moment to take a bite out of her donut. "Well... I recommend it, either way. A lot of good people there, if maybe a bit, uh... Rowdy, at times. Especially if the Eagles are playing."

Amaryllis nodded. "I always wanted to do a show out there sometime," she said, "try and see how much of that energy we could get out of them."

She wouldn't comment on the obvious, nor would she remark upon the fact that her band's music wasn't quite on the level with the shoegaze type sound coming out of the Philadelphia indie scene. Instead, she just finished her half of the donut.

"I used to eat these in like, two bites, just to show off," Amaryllis said, mouth full. "Are we eating them all, or saving more for later?"

Lily ponders for a moment, staring down at the inviting boston kreme donut on offer. A part of her was still feeling peckish, given that the roast she split was only intended to serve one. But she was also painfully aware of the fact that once she ate that donut, she'd be back to subsisting on the same bland rations that had been keeping them going thus far.

"I'm probably going to save mine, give myself something to look forward to" she replies, wiping her mouth clean before putting the empty plastic container aside. The last warm meal she was likely to have for a long time, maybe even ever.

Well, very likely ever, if she was being realistic. Not that she was giving up hope anytime soon.

"Now then, time for the main course..." she says with a hint of trepidation, turning away from Amaryllis to unzip her dufflebag, reaching inside to lift up something heavy from within.

"I, um... Don't suppose you have any idea how to use one of these?" she asks, slowly turning around with her BKA nestled in her arms like a newborn.

It was a rifle of sorts, modern and German in make, fitted with a long scope that made it ideal for sniping. It appeared to be semi-automatic in design, with an empty slot where a magazine could be fitted, several of which can be seen poking out of Lily's bag along with the gun's manual.

On said manual, written in bold blank ink, was the gun's name: Heckler & Koch PSG-1

Amaryllis' eyes widened.

"I, uh," she stammered, "I might."

She had firearm experience, it was true. But she had never handled a rifle quite as heavy-duty as what she now saw. It wasn't a guitar, but this machine could still kill fascists. Even if it did come from Germany—still, as long as the manual was in English—

"I haven't shot this gun in particular," she said, "but I could teach myself, sure. I've been going to the range lately."

Looking over at the bag, she started to count the magazines.

"How many of those are there?"

Lily nodded her head. "Mmm, well, that's still more experience than I ha-AAHVE!" she gasps, the rifle's weight shifting as she adjusted herself, leading to it pressing down on her shredded palm.

She'd been careful so far to mainly use her right hand when lifting heavy objects, and only using her fingers if need be whenever she used her left. She let the gun rest on her lap as she reached down to rub her palm, biting her bottom lip as she let the pain ride out, before letting out a long sigh.

"But... Yes, it seems reasonable to me that we share marksman duties. Doubt I'll be able to handle the kick of this thing with my hand fucked anyhow..."

She leant back to start counting magazines, shifting through her bag to make sure she didn't leave any out. "...right, think that should be more than enough to last us" she says, pulling one out as she turned back to Amaryllis. "Think we have enough spare that we can sacrifice one to get some practice done, maybe find a quiet spot to take pot-shots?"

Passing the magazine and the rifle over to Amaryllis so that she could take a closer look, she got to work packing her things up and putting the donuts away for now. Like Amaryllis she was keen to get a move on, especially now that there were two bodies outside. One of which wasn't there when they first arrived.

Before they could leave however, there was the morbid matter of sorting through Janice's things. It wasn't something she was looking forward to, nor did she take much pride in doing, but like the BKA it was a bit of horrible pragmatism that needed to be done. The food and water was easy enough to split between them, the weapons however...

"You want the knife? I've already got Ivy down here" she says, patting the curled up urumi tucked into her belt. "Makes sense we both have something sharp on hand."

"There's also a, oh..." she continues, pulling out what appeared to be a sleeping bag. "Huh... Did we have one of these all along, or... Hmm..." she hums, pondering to herself. "Well, suppose we can share it."

Lily pauses, looking slightly flustered as she glanced back up at Amaryllis. "As in, like... Take turns using it, obviously. Maybe whilst one of us is on watch?"

Lily's slip of the tongue, if that was what it was, made Amaryllis blush, but she was sure that Lily couldn't tell the difference between that and their natural flush due to the cold, right? I mean, any number of things could make Amaryllis' face go red like that, really. Didn't have to be the cold, necessarily, could just be some color coming back after eating a real meal for the first time in what felt like ever. Maybe she was just really happy that they had magazines! Yes, sure, that was it, absolutely.

"Take turns," Amaryllis repeated, "one of us on watch, the other one comfy, that sounds nice."

It did, it did, it really did, even if it was alone, getting some real sleep in a real bag and not the hard bench or the floor was almost heaven. So did having a knife, because Amaryllis was done being useless and unarmed. Anything she could do to be less of a liability. She didn't even blink at Lily having a pet name for the Urumi—of course she did—and besides, Amaryllis was already blushing.

"I'll take the knife, if that's alright," she said. Of course it was alright. Lily offered it. Why ask if it's alright a second time? Stupid, stupid...

"We should get moving," continued Amaryllis, "since they told everyone where you'd be getting your award, there might be vultures en route, to try and catch you off-guard."

It was a plausible enough excuse to get back into the cold and get them both blushing naturally.

"Yeah. Yeah, that does sound... Nice" Lily replied, maintaining eye contact for a moment before glancing away.

She noted the redness in Amaryllis' cheeks, trying not to read too much into it. It was the dead of winter after all, and the changing room had lousy insulation. Nothing more to it, right? Right.

Would certainly explain why her own cheeks were rather flushed, too.

"Of course, yeah, here..." she replies, clearing her throat before quickly passing the strange knife over to her friend, putting her previous train of thought aside as she focused on rolling up the sleeping bag and storing it away. She let Amaryllis hold onto the rifle for now as well, since she seemed better equipped with the knowledge of how to use it. It was a relief to know there was at least one person on that island she trusted well enough to entrust such a weapon with, especially after some of the reveals that came with the latest announcement.

Alex dead... Karin a killer... Who's next?

Lily snuffed the thought for now, nodding her head in agreement to Amaryllis' suggestion. She certainly had no intention of sticking around to find out who else would be drawn to the mines, though that still begged the question as to what their next move ought to be. 

Head out and continue searching for their friends, the ones who remained that weren't already dead anyway? Continue trying to regroup with Dickie and Iris? No news was good news in a game like this, so she could only hope they were somewhere safe. Figure out a way off the island? She hadn't a clue where to even begin for something like that... But, maybe someone out there did. Someone she could help. There had been escapes before, so who knows. Maybe they could pull off another miracle.

Either way, it was time to go, the two quickly leaving their temporary paradise to return to the cold reality that lay beyond it's doors.

((Lillian Larsen and Amaryllis Peszek-Byrne continued in Cat Scratch Fever))