Survival Of The Fittest

((Valentin Shulgin continues from his experiment))

Nothing happened for a further two and a half days after their departure from the hot springs, in fact.

Chloé said she had allies waiting 'here,' the research station being their current 'here,' but getting 'here' involved resting overnight at the hot springs, a few navigational mishaps around and past the mining town, a night spent in a decrepit house, a few more navigational mishaps along the shoreline, and then finally arriving at the listening station in the snowy dark of last night, only to find that Chloé's allies were not 'here' either.

So here they were. Nothing happened for two and a half days after their departure.

The nothingness in and of itself was of note. Alexander had separated from Valentin on the basis that they would have an easier time attracting allies if Valentin were by his lonesome, but that idea was presupposed by the notion that Valentin would actually meet someone. Granted, Chloé had come along with him, thankfully, made for good conversation, but they had run into no one else, talked to no one else. A hundred and fifty or so of his classmates had been abducted alongside him, a hundred and fifty wandered this island at some point or another, and yet the most he heard of the majority was when they killed or died, per the tinny voice emanating from the speakers at sunrise daily.

Several days ago, Alexander had shouted at Valentin for wasting a couple minutes on attempting to bury the body of Marian Dick, since those minutes could have been used formulating a plan, gathering allies, gathering supplies for their supposed escape.

Forty-four. Forty-four of their classmates had died since the last time he and Alexander spoke.

So much time, so many lives wasted, and he and Chloé had nothing to show for it.

Nothing happened for two and a half days after their departure.

Valentin had spent the eight hours nude in the hot spring, idly conversing with Chloé, hoping that the collar would make some sound indicating its malfunction, but that was a foolish, amateur idea in hindsight. The only way for Valentin to definitively test his idea was to go where the collars were supposed to work, in other words to go to a danger zone.

But he did not want to do that without meeting Alexander first. In case his idea didn't work.

They were supposed to be here two days ago. Two days past their self-imposed deadline, and Alexander was nowhere to be found.

He was not dead. The announcements a couple hours ago had not mentioned his name in any respect, thank God, he was not one of the forty-four lost since they last met. But where could he have gone since? Had he died? Or, had he arrived here on time, waited, and decided that actually, Valentin was too incompetent to get them out of this island? Since he could not even arrive to the listening station in a punctual manner, much less gather allies, much less formulate an idea, the idea that could get them off the island.

Maybe he was right to leave him behind.

From within the dark, drab listening station, Valentin sat in front of the doorway, bathed in a pale white light. He was sat upright, his arms braced slightly behind him, holding him upright, his fingers numb on the concrete floor. Frigid air seeped into the room through a bullet hole in the window, so it mattered not whether or not the door was open, they would freeze either way.

With a mix of amusement and resignation, he remembered how his fingers and toes had looked after he'd stepped out of the hot springs. With how things were going, that would probably be the last time he'd ever see his skin grow wrinkled.

He looked out, and he gazed upon the snowfall, falling at a steady, heavy rate.

It was so cold here.

Alexander would be so cold outside.

Valentin's discomfort mattered little. If the numbing of his nerves meant one less second spent waiting for Alexander, one less second spent in this painful ignorance, then he'd pay that price.

And so he continued to wait.

Chloé was huddled in her jacket in the corner of the room, watching her breath turn to mist in the faint light that made it through the windows. The listening station offered little protection from the cold, even back here where the broken window was furthest away. If they stayed here much longer, Chloé worried she might freeze to death.

((Chloé Delacroix continued from Valentin Takes A Bath))

For a little while now, Chloé had been wondering how best to suggest they leave without Alexander. It was clear how desperately Valentin wanted to be reunited, but it was becoming just as clear that such a reunion was by now unlikely; if Alexander had been here two days ago when they were supposed to have arrived, he wasn't here now. Neither was Jacob, nor Marshall, nor Richard. Losing a day on the island didn't just mean another dozen classmates dead; whole plans could fall apart in the meantime. She didn't want to be too hard on him. It wasn't their fault they got lost- the wilderness was tricky enough to navigate in the precious few hours of daylight, and downright dangerous at night- but there was no changing the fact they had to make up for lost time today. They had to stop waiting on the original plan and be proactive.

Staring at the back of his head, Chloé couldn't tell how Valentin would react to that sentiment, and she was uneasy to find out. The balance of power between them was still untested; she'd always envisioned being the "leader" of the group she was putting together, since it had been her idea then, but Valentin was here on his own plan, waiting for his own friend. If he was determined to wait night and day for Alexander to show, there may not be much Chloé could say to stop him. Tentatively, she cleared her throat.

"Valentin... It's been two days. I don't think he's coming."

He gulped.

His grandfather had told him once, if he ever got lost in a forest, that the best option was to stay put. Staying in one location raised the odds of whoever was looking for you chancing upon your location eventually. Whereas, if you wandered off while your potential rescuer looked elsewhere, then you two could wander all over the woods, paths curving to and fro but never intersecting.

Alexander was the one missing, yet Valentin felt lost.

There were probably more efficient ways to go about this. Maybe he could follow Chloé, join her allies, and keep an eye out for Alexander. He could hope for that intersection to come eventually.

And maybe, in the time before their paths intersect, Valentin gets shot by one of the myriad assailants on this island. Or Alexander dies of exposure. Or Valentin dies of hunger.

There were more efficient ways to go about this, ways that could further themselves towards their shared goal of escape. Yet, Valentin felt lost, he felt paralyzed in his anxiety.

So, all he could muster up as a response to Chloé, in a quiet voice, was "An hour? Wait an hour, perhaps?"

And maybe the next hour. And the next. And the next.

Chloé groaned.

“Valentin…”

Something about the way he offered that compromise told her he was just stalling indefinitely. Part of her wanted to be diplomatic, say “fine” or “thirty minutes” or just offer some reassurance. But the more she empathised with how urgently he wanted to find his friend, the more she was reminded of just how urgently she had to find her own. A frustration started to build inside her, emboldened by his meekness.

"We can't sit around waiting on one person to come to us when there's four others we have to find. We can look for him at the same time we're looking for Marshall and and the others."

She hadn't meant to sound quite so harsh, almost patronising. Chloé had always considered herself a nice person but the pressures and stress of the island were getting to her now. She couldn't apologise. She had to present a strong front.

"I'm sorry," Valentin said in a quiet voice.

And he meant it, too. He was sincerely sorry that he had wasted so much of their time, that he had wasted so many of their friends' and classmates' lives.

And he was sorry that he would continue wasting it.

Lost in a forest. Look for him at the same time. Two paths meandering never to intersect.

He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave.

He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them. Gaze still transfixed on the snowy beyond.

"An hour," he said slightly louder.

Chloé sighed deeply and stood up straight. He had doubled down, but she was every bit as stubborn as he was. She walked towards him, past him, hesitated. Valentin had wasted three days of her time now. All he’d given her was his escape plan, finally; she didn’t even think it would work. It was too simple, too obvious. Even if he ever got back to work on it, it would probably be the death of him.

The words came to her suddenly, forgotten but by her subconscious.

“You can sit there and do nothing until death inevitably comes. But that is not something I will be a part of.”

A faint memory, buried under piles of stress, troubled her expression for a second. She lingered at the door, head turned halfway back. Then, wordlessly, she stepped outside.

((Chloé Delacroix concluded in D’état, de Grâce))

Valentin sat there, powerless, Chloé's parting words echoing in his ears, leaving a sting somewhere deep within him.

She was right, he knew. If he kept down this path, he would die without anything of note happening. The rest of their classmates would be condemned to the same fate that had met hundreds his age three years prior, six years prior, and so on and so forth.

It was just, whenever he tried to think of something useful he could do to pass the time, but, it was like he was lost within a forest, trying to find some river to guide him to a settlement, or some trail to take him to a campground, but instead he just kept coming back to the same tree over and over again.

He should test out his collar, see if his experiment had borne any fruit. But what if Alexander came back? He should try to find other allies to recruit, maybe even try to regain Chloé. But what if Alexander came back? He should inspect the listening station, see if anything of use could aid towards their escape, but what if he missed Alexander passing by? Alexander, Alexander, Alexander.

He felt so, so pathetic in all his inaction and his inutility, but he was scared. There had been no word from Alexander for so long, and he was scared.

He wanted to bury his face into his knees and sob, but he did not allow himself that. For one, he did not deserve it.

And for two, he might miss Alexander, if he diverted his gaze.

He stayed in position, trying desperately to tamp down all his feelings.

‎‏‏‎ ‎







Valentin slapped himself in the face.

"Get up," he muttered to himself.

He slapped himself again. Think of it like waking up on a cold morning, forcing yourself out of your stupor. Get up.

Haltingly, he pushed himself off the floor, stumbling with the first step forward, stopping himself on the door entrance.

He was pathetic. This was pathetic.

The fact that he'd been a poor enough ally for Chloé that she felt compelled to abandon him was humiliating. But, the only thing he could think of that'd be more humiliating, it would be if Alexander were to come back after three days and ask him what he accomplished, only for Valentin to say 'Nothing.'

Forty-four people had died between the last time they saw each other and now. He had to have something to show for it.

His chest felt tight as he stepped out into the blizzard. Visibility was somewhere around a kilometer. It was easy to see how Alexander could get lost in this. How Valentin could get lost in this. But he would find his way back, and Alexander would find his way back to him.

There was nothing else to believe.

((Valentin Shulgin continues in Well, I'm tired of losing))