Keeping the Faith

[Pigeon Army†]

((Rachel Gettys continued from Take, Eat))

As if the swamp wasn't enough.

Rachel batted the low-hanging branches out of her face as she pressed on through the woods. The trees had been tugging on her burgundy cardigan and snapping at her hair, the former of which wasn't cheap and the latter of which hurt. She hadn't long departed the swamp, and hadn't bothered to check if anyone had followed her - she was following a fairly noticeable path through the trees, and if anyone had an idea of tagging along, she was moving slow enough for them to catch up. She had, however, noted that the island seemed to be one painful inconvenience after the other. It was as if Danya had set out to make the 'trip' as irritating as possible.

Her daypack hung from her side like some kind of feeble khaki pendulum, snagging every so often on a loose twig or tall rock. In fact, coming to think of it, that was something that Rachel found weird; for all the fauna creeping into it, the path she was on had obviously been designed as some kind of walking track. It was the first indication of civilisation she'd seen since arriving - her fellow students didn't count - but knowing what little she knew of that cackling, smug Eurotrash, she figured that was all she was going to be seeing in her time on the island. Indications.

A loud crackling echoed through the woods, and Rachel stopped in her tracks. It sounded like static from a radio of some kind, but that's impossible, there's no way...

Clap. Clap. Clap.

That bohunk can go burn in hell.

Burning with rage at the arrogant polock's showboating as he rattled off the day's events, she continued her tramping through the trees. The cheerfully blasé attitude he was taking to all the killing rubbed Rachel the wrong way - it was horrific, the most terribly unchristian thing she'd ever born witness to in her life. Eventually, in order to drown out Danya's shrill gloating, she dug into her daypack and pulled it out.

At least it's useful for something on this island.

She began shaking and banging the tambourine, singing a hymn in order to make it something other than a weak rhythm to walk to. Soon, the lyrics to "Shine Jesus Shine" were bouncing through the trees and out of the canopy, managing to escape into the safety of the wilderness. It was her favourite hymn, buoyant and appropriately grand, and even if she was a little off-key, it was better than Danya chortling about how many kids he sent to their deaths. Anything was better than that.

Very deliberately lost in a celebration of God setting her heart on fire and brightening up her blood, Rachel kept on pushing along the path and into the woods. She was so lost in her celebration, she didn't even notice the path coming to an end up ahead. Nor did she notice the steep reason why that was so.

[Super Llama†]

{{Continued from Stay Sane Inside Insanity}}

Sebastian's trip across the island had taken him much of the previous day, and sent him through various locations on the way. Well, technically skirting various locations. He'd heard various sounds, gunfire, shouting, screaming, etc on his way through, and thought it was probably best if he steered clear. Reaching out, he pushed aside a low-hanging branch as he walked back, and as he let go, the branch simply snapped back into place, slapping the boy in the side of the face. Sebastian, of course, wasn't having any of this shit, and grabbed the base of the branch, bending it back as hard as he could until he heard the distinct sound of wood cracking until the branch gave way and broke off.

Take that, tree.

Dammit, this was so frustrating! If he could just run into one kid with a weapon that was actually DESIGNED to be a weapon. Someone he could convince to tag along and do all the fighting and shit for him. Or someone he could intimidate into forking their weapon over, maybe even after they were smacked around a bit at the very
worst. No killing; the announcements made it perfectly clear what would happen, and he wasn't ready to face down every person out for revenge or acting like some ally of justice or whatever bullshit they come up with for trying to gun him down.

Sebastian gave the tree a malicious glare, as if to say he knew where it lived, and if it wanted it's family to keep being alive and well it'd leave the fuck alone, before continuing on. It wasn't long before she started hearing singing somewhere nearby. Moving in that direction, he began to make out the singing as some kind of hymn, it's singer shaking a tambourine as she walked. Telling this girl that hymns and shit weren't really gonna do any good, as this game kind of proved to him that even if God exists, he can't be assed to help anyone out here seemed like a really assholish thing to say.

So that's exactly what he said.

"I really doubt God's gonna be of any help all the way out here." Sebastian said, leaning against a nearby tree as he stared out at Rachel, trying to remember where he'd seen her before.

[Killer_Moth†]

((Theo Behr cont'd from Time is Not On Our Side))

He was still running. He thought he had lost his pursuers, but he wasn't sure. And there were likely more of them out there. His face was being scratched by branches, his side was aching, and he couldn't stop running.

Somewhere, there was a voice. A girl singing. He thought he recognised the song. It was a hymn. A Christian Hymn. Damn. That probably meant GodSpeed. He had no love for them, and knew that they didn't have any for him either. He had heard all the accusations. Kike. Christ Killer. All of them Anti-Semites. And now she was taunting him.

His fear was giving way to anger. How dare she. After all that he had had to go through. That he had been betrayed and almost killed by people he thought he could trust. And now, she was singing, praising some jumped up prophet that men in skirts said was Divine. Still his blood was pounding in his ears. She was alone. She was a girl. She wasn't expecting him. And if it were any other way, she would kill him without a second thought and move on. She had to die.

He snuck towards where the voice was coming from. Rachel Gettys. The fucking head bible basher herself. And she was so near a drop. It was going to be so easy. He looked in his pockets for something that he could use, and settled on a spare shoelace. It would make a perfect garrotte. Knock her down, get her winded, and then throttle her. Then he'd be able to use whatever weapon she'd been given. It had to be better than his-

Of course. What better way. He rummaged around in his bag, and quietly pulled out the mask and pulled it on. This way, it wasn't really him doing the killing, was it? It was some kid in a Nixon Mask. That would stop any witnesses from telling on him.

He steeled himself, took a few deep breaths, waited until she was at the right place, and jumped out at her, screaming "Die Bitch!" It was only halfway through his jump that he noticed Sebastian against the tree. It was enough to distract him into lowering his arms as he collided with something.

[Pigeon Army†]

Unfortunately for Miss Gettys, her surrender to the music - so clever in her mind, so calculated - wasn't to last for long, as a snarky, contemptible voice cut through the praise-giving. "I really doubt God's gonna be of any help all the way out here."

Rachel stopped dead in her tracks, her daypack keeping the time for a few seconds before coming to a halt with its owners. She turned to the kid who'd just sassed her, a tall and smart-looking 'scenester' of some description. The cardigan-wearing girl barely tried to hide how unimpressed she was. Trust one of those emo kids to go around preaching the gospel of Dawkins.

"Thanks for the heads up, Bill Hicks," she spat in reply, her voice dripping with the venom she reserved for occasions like this. "I'll be sure to remember that when I pass you on my way to heaven." They were all the same, those atheists. Disrespectful. Unpleasant. So up themselv"DIE BITCH!"

Rachel spun around to glimpse a boy wearing a Nixon mask - only a glimpse, as he had propelled himself out of a hiding place a few metres away and, in a few short seconds, had slammed bodily into her, sending her careening backwards. Rachel had no time to react from the unexpected barging, to regain her footing or roll to the side. One one hand, the kid had been too damn quick to give her the time.

On the other hand, the ground had disappeared from under her as she tumbled backwards. That sort of thing wasn't known for giving people time to react.

Rachel hadn't noticed the cliff - if she had, she probably wouldn't have stopped directly in front of it so any joker could push her off it and onto the tough forest floor below. But she had. And she did. And as she fell backwards, Rachel asked herself how she could've been so stupid. Daddy had taught her better than this.

Thud.

[Killer_Moth†]

Amazingly, he'd thrown the bitch over a cliff. True it hadn't been very high, but it was a start. All he had to do now was go down and confirm his kill. However, there was still the matter of the witness. Before, he had had surprise and luck on his side. Now, he had to trust to his new found reputation.

"Walk away Sebastian. She's meat, but you can still live, if you run. Run now."

With that, he turned back towards where Rachel was lying on the ground. It would be so easy now to finish her off. She had to have been wounded, or at least winded. If he kept her off balance, he could get round her throat and choke her to death. He took one look at the slope and decided it was worth the risk. He jumped after her.

And landed badly. A sharp pain shot through his legs. He didn't want to look, but was reasonably certain he'd broken something. He tried to clamber to his feet, but the second he put weight on his right foot, he heard something snap. He screamed in pain and collapsed on something soft. Gettys. It had to be. He could still salvage this. If he was going to die, it wasn't going to be alone. He found her throat, and started to squeeze.

[Pigeon Army†]

The gates were brighter than she anticipated. Probably because they were on fire.

The brilliant white fire danced as the gates lurched open, and Rachel watched the glorious, unworldly flames as they rose and flickered. They were quite unlike anything she'd seen before. So, too, was what the gargantuan wrought iron gates guarded - a foyer of polished marble and Corinthian columns, extending past the horizon and warmly lit by a source unknown. Rachel stole one glance at the dark nothing behind her, as if to reassure herself, and then strode into the beautiful hall.

As the gates creaked shut behind her, Rachel took in the staggering glory of her surroundings. She found herself caught short as she contemplated the endless structure, her gasping an inadequate means of conveying the wonder she was standing in.

This all seemed rather familiar to Rachel. She took it all in with the eyes of someone experiencing deja vu, unsure of whether she was seeing the structure for the second time or for the first time again.

A loud, authoritative voice boomed through the neverending corridor.

This was definitely familiar.

Now is not your time, the voice intoned, at once soothing and instructive. Rachel nodded in acceptance.

"What would you have me do?"

Go forth, spoke the voice, and do my good works.

"How?"

There was a pause. It lasted for but a fraction of a second, but the silence hung in the air for what felt like a century. Then, the voice continued.

Do you know your scripture?

"Yes."

Matthew 16:4.

Rachel paused, but did not scramble for the passage. Normally, she would have, but it seemed to come easily in this environment, in His presence. "A wicked and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and there shall no sign be given unto it, but the sign of the prophet Jonah. And he left them, and departed."

The voice emitted a low hum of acceptance, and then continued. My flock has become restless. It mocks my teachings and abuses the free will upon which I have bestowed it, performing evil acts in my name. I cannot intervene - such action would be inappropriate. But I must give my flock a chance at redemption, an opportunity to restore order and peace.

Rachel nodded. She had no inkling of what was coming, and yet, she felt she knew absolutely what was to be asked of her.

They seek after a sign. I shall provide one for them. The sign of the prophet Jonah. You, my virtuous daughter Rachel, shall bear that sign. For three days and three nights, you shall survive this island. Though you are beset on all sides by faithlessness and doubt and sin, you shall persevere. You shall show my flock that the road to salvation is through me, and that if they decline this road, if they doubt it and scorn it, then they shall fall victim to the influence of Satan.

Rachel accepted the request with a nod and a smile - a genuine one, unlike that which she normally employed. She felt oddly at peace with what she had to do. Her task was a divine one, and she had to follow it, no matter the temptation to stray from the course.

You must show my flock the road. Those who do not follow are doomed to damnation in the pits of Hell. If they would stand in your way, do everything in your power to remove them.

Now you must wake up, Rachel, for a demon attacks.

WAKE UP, RACHEL.


Rachel gasped as her eyes flew open, the immediacy of the situation distressingly apparent. He had not lied - a demon was assaulting her, straddling her and attempting to strangle her with his unholy grip. Rachel struggled under his hands, the monstrous figure breathing heavily as he pressed down on her throat. He was taking pleasure in this, Rachel could tell - he was diseased, possessed by a hellish figure that wanted him to kill Rachel and like it, to revel in the extinguishing of the flame carried by His loyal servant. The devil in the Nixon mask was trying to prevent the sign of Jonah from being given to the flock.

Rachel would not let that happen.

Her breathing growing short and sharp, she stretched out her left arm and began fumbling around, looking for something, anything to remove this fiend from her path. Her hand connected with something hard and jagged - a rock. Her throat began to close up. Her fingers gripped the rock tightly. She glared at the Nixon mask, almost unreal in the dead of night.

She swung.

[Killer_Moth†]

His blood was still pounding in his ears, his vision red, as he squeezed with all the strength he could muster. Soon he would feel her throat collapse, and she would be dead. She was squirming beneath him, trying to fight him off. Good. She deserved to feel every moment of her death.

The pain in his leg forgotten, he kept pressing harder and harder, enjoying the feeling of her writhing beneath him. Back in school, he would never have been able to get this close to any girl. Now, he had power. This game had released him. He had never needed those pills. It was all to stop him from feeling this good. Killing was fun. He would have to do this again.

He didn't even notice as she reached out and grabbed a rock, lashing out at him.At first, he could feel himself struggling to breathe. He wanted to rip the mask off, let more air in, but to do so would be to release Rachel, to give her a chance to fight back. But he was feeling so tired now. And something was trickling down his shirt. He assumed it was sweat. The mask was hot. Yeah, sweat. Once she was dead he would find something to towel off with.

She kicked out again, moving his leg. The pain flooded back, and he tried to let loose a scream, but found himself unable to breathe. There was a gurgling from within his chest. His strength failing, he released her, and fell over on his side. He tried to raise his hands to remove his mask, but even that was becoming difficult. What had happened?

He finally felt his head clearing. Things were becoming quieter, more peaceful. He was so tired all of a sudden. He just wanted to go to sleep. And what was the pain in his neck. Then he realised. The rock must have hit something. Probably gone through a vein and into his windpipe. Rachel had killed him.

Even though he knew what she had done, he found it difficult to blame her. She had only been acting in self defence. He had attacked her unprovoked. Everything he had done since arriving had been foolish, and had led him here. Not trusting OC. Planning on killing Rizzo. Running away in a panic from people who were as scared as he was. Even looking back, his whole high school career had been stupid mistake after another. Maybe this was for the best after all. Now he couldn't fuck his life up any-

B066 – Theodore Behr – Deceased

[Super Llama†]

Sebastian almost scoffed at Rachel's retort. No wait, he DID scoff. "Whatever, just keep praying then. Maybe God will build you a boat out of dreams and unicorns and you can sail out of he-"

"Die Bitch!"

Suddenly, somebody flew out of the brush and knocked Rachel off a nearby ledge. Sebastian took a step backwards as Theo flung some kind threat at him, and then jumped down after her, letting out a scream of pain soon afterwards. Figuring the attacker wouldn't be able to climb back up to make good on his threats after jumping off the cliff and making THAT kind of noise, curiosity got the better of Sebastian and he stepped closer to the cliff to get a look at what was going on.

Only to see something he'd rather not see.

That religious girl just killed that kid with a rock, and as he got a glimpse of the carnage, all the color drained out of his face. He'd never seen somebody die before, and somehow it was worse than he could've imagined. And to think, he'd probably have to end up doing this eventually if he wanted to get out of here. Trying to keep the bile from rising in his throat as he saw the blood leaking everywhere, Sebastian's body screamed at him to get the hell out of here, but first it seemed he had to get in one last word.

"Looks like you're a killer now. Next morning, everyone's gonna know what you did. Hope you like the exposure."

Sebastian just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut.

[Pigeon Army†]

There was a lot of blood. Certainly more than she'd expected. She hadn't really aimed at anything in particular, so maybe she'd hit an artery that she didn't know about or something like that. But still. It was a lot of blood.

Her arm dropped back to her side, the rock still tightly clasped in her hand. Blood trickled from the stone's point down onto her fingers and into the palm of her hand, forming a small pool of red liquid.

The boy swayed a little, blood spurting out from the deep wound with every heartbeat. His grip on her neck loosened, the sticky red fluid trickling onto the girl's burgundy cardigan and white blouse. Slowly, his body began weighing itself down, the life draining out of him as he drowsily collapsed onto her.

Rachel snapped back to reality. It wasn't pleasant. There was a corpse lying on her, its lifeless eyes staring at her through that flabby plastic mask. Wasting no time, she shoved the boy off her and sat up, breathing heavily and panicking. She looked at the rock in her hand, covered in the boy's dark red blood. She gagged at the sight and threw the stone as far as she possibly could.

She looked at the dead boy again. She'd killed him - that wasn't even remotely in doubt. She'd taken a life. She'd violated the principles she lived by. She'd gone back on everything she'd been taught, everything she'd been told was morally acceptable. People would find out. This was Survival of the Fittest, it was broadcast. People would see what she'd done. What would they say? What would her church say? What would her parents say?

They'd say she was right in doing what she did. It was self defense. The boy was going to kill her. If she hadn't acted, she wouldn't be sitting here now, contemplating this. If she hadn't acted, she would be the one staring at her killer through dead eyes. If she hadn't acted, she would have failed everyone who'd invested in her, who'd helped her to where she was. Her church. Her parents. Her God.

Rachel remembered the vision vividly. It wasn't a dream - dreams weren't real, dreams didn't feel real. This had felt real, was real. She'd been told to stay alive, to spread the message, to do anything it took to show people the sign. Heck, she even remembered exactly what He had said. You must show my flock the road. Those who do not follow are doomed to damnation in the pits of Hell. If they would stand in your way, do everything in your power to remove them. The boy in the Nixon mask had stood in her way, had chosen not to follow her. She had removed him. It was simple. What she'd done was not only justifiable, it was right. He had said as much.

Rachel attempted to push herself up onto her feet, but quickly fell back onto her backside, the sudden shock of pain shooting through her left leg. She'd sprained her ankle, or so it seemed, but that was easily overcome. All she needed to do was find a crutch of some description and some cold water and she'd be mobile enough. It was a miracle that was the only injury she'd suffered from the fall, and she quietly thanked Him before attempting to stand up for the second time. She grimaced through the pain, her left ankle stinging under the pressure. Elevating the ankle, she hopped over to a nearby tree and leaned up against it, looking for a stick or something that she could walk with.

At the top of the cliff, the rude atheist from earlier was staring at her. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up at him, his face white with fear. "Looks like you're a killer now, he unhelpfully offered, his voice quivering despite the snark. "Next morning, everyone's gonna know what you did. Hope you like the exposure." Rachel glared at him for a while before resuming her search for a stick. He would soon see why it was important she lived.

Soon everyone would see why.

[Super Llama†]

((Shitty Sebastianpost, AWAAAAAAY!))

Looking down at Rachel as she surveyed her kill, and then apparently hunted around for a stick, Sebastian decided that he should probably get the hell out of here and away from the now crazy-looking killer before she...somehow climbed back up the cliff and tried to hit him with the stick? Whatever, the logic didn't matter. Right now, Sebastian wanted to be somewhere that wasn't here, where he didn't have to look at a fresh dead body and her killer wandering around nearby. Straightening out the shoulder strap on his daypack, he walked away with a quickness, never looking back.

{{continued in Cleanliness and Lonliness}}

[Pigeon Army†]

Eventually, Rachel found a decent-sized stick. It was sturdy and held her weight when she leaned on it - it would do for now. There was an infirmary on the island, the map had said so. Perhaps there would be a crutch there, or at least something to take the edge off. Her ankle was killing her.

She opened her daypack. Nothing seemed to be broken, though a lot of the crackers had snapped and crumbled in the fall. Not that Rachel could care right now. She would only be here for three days and three nights before she was the last to remain. She wouldn't be needing her crackers.

She pulled out her water bottle and took a short swig from it. It was refreshing, brought her back after what had just happened. She made a point of not looking at the body of the dead boy, the boy she killed. He wasn't her concern any more.

Rachel tossed the bottle back in her bag and began hobbling off to the infirmary. It was going to be imperative that she had full mobility as she made the message known. Nobody could miss out.

((Rachel Gettys continued in Going Round in Circles))