"Your luck has reached its end."

[Nealosi†]

((Continued from I Like Shopping!))

They had definitely stayed longer than they should have.

In a desperate attempt to gather a few remaining supplies before the mall became a permanent danger zone, Russell Gofis and his ally Franco Sebberts delved through the scavenged supplies of a long abandoned dollar store. The time that he'd spent on the Island had been surprisingly fortuitous. He'd met Franco early in the game, and the two of them had hit it off, managing to muscle their way through the competition and gather enough supplies to live pretty well.

This was all despite the fact that Russell was scared out of his mind. He put on a tough face and kept his head down, followed Franco blindly into battle, only because he figured it would get him out of here. A momentary reprieve from the horrors of the Island was worth a lifetime of sin. He could bare the guilt, not as easily as Franco seemed too, but that was just his way. Spoilt rich kids don't care much for anybody if they aren't pulling their weight for the good of the aristocracy, but that was the last thing on Russell's mind. He just wanted to get out. He'd seem enough of this shit in his lifetime.

Nathan, the new kid waited outside patiently as Russell struggled to reach what he thought was a small jackknife on top of one of the bone-picked dollar store shelves. Franco waiting eagerly at his feet, nagging incessantly that they had to go soon, as Russell climbed awkwardly to the top of the shelf, still gripping his shotgun in hand.

"Hurry up, Russ," Franco danced uneasily, like a bored kid at the supermarket. "I don't want my head to blow up, for Christ sakes!"

"Don't worry," Russell grimaced, reaching awkwardly. "I've almost got it."

The shelf buckled awkwardly as he reached out to grab the small metal object. Russell kicked out, managing to grip the top of the shelf. He hung precariously as the shelf groaned and creaked under his weight. His feet failed, trying to find his footing again.

"Franco! Gimme a hand here!"

Franco sighed and began walking closer, kicking his and Russell's bags of supplies out of the way and placing his own shotgun down on the ground next to them, safely away from any sort of crash site.

"Shit!"

Russell could feel the shelf begin to slowly sway backwards, giving way to his flailing and his weight. Groaning un-amorously, the shelf slowly keeled backwards. Careening with pained slowness, Russell looked back to see Franco darting backwards to avoid being crushed by the heavy shelf. The descent began to speed up as the shelf became less and less vertical with the floor. Tilting, tilting, tilting...

"Fuck!"

Russell's body along with the full weight of the cheaply staked shelf collided with the floor. He heard a snap, as wood bent and splintered and cheap merchandize bounced off the gaudy tiles of the mall floor. His head bounced off the ground, leaving a small dot of blood and the full weight off the self pressed against everything from the waist down. Fear engulfed him. The pain was easily bearable, but he was completely pinned under the weight of the shelf, this was not good. He pushed up, trying futilely to heave the mass of his bottom half.

"Franco!" Russell reached back, his shotgun still in hand. "Help me!"

Franco sat in shock not five feet away from his pinned comrade both bags of supplies sitting next to him, full and inviting like two bags of candy. He looked over at Russell just as the small red light on his collar began to ebb with life. His eyes widened for a moment, he probably had enough time to save Russell and get out, but to Franco Sebberts, even his long-time island companion, wasn't worth the risk.

Russell looked back at Franco, craning his neck awkwardly, and realized he wasn't springing into action any time soon. The beeping of his collar rung in his ears like a distantly whining siren. The constant beats were like the beating of a malevolent drum. They reminded him of his father. The shrill beeps seemed to synchronize with the slow beating of his heart.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

His eyes turned to sorrow as tears of exhaustion and pain poured down his face dripping to the ground mixed with blood and sweat. Franco wasn't going to help him.

"Fuck you Franco!" Russell cried out, surprised at his volume, it was like the snarl of a dying animal, fierce and unforgiving. "FUCK YOU!"

Franco's face remained devoid of his trade-marked grin. It was stern and solid, like an officer or a politician in a time of crisis, bound to his duties, his duties to himself.

"I'm sorry, Russell," his eyes displayed only the hope of sympathy. "I'm taking your ammo and your bag. Keep the gun..."

Franco paused, Russell look on in shock, realizing he couldn't bend his partially pinned body back to fire at him. His blood boiled with fear and rage and the pain of remembering. He remained quite as Franco recovered all the gear, the beeping continued.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

"You can shoot yourself," Franco spoke again as he turned to make his exit. His facial expression was unfamiliar to Russell. Was it regret? "At least that way they don't get the satisfaction of finishing you off."

He left.

"Fuck you Franco!" Russell screamed at the top of his lungs. Saliva, sweat and spittle spewed across the floor as he clawed at the shelf. His cries had an animalistic similarity to them as they reach their epoch. "Fuck you! I hope you die! FUCKING BASTARD!"

He looked to his side seeing the small metal object that he was trying to obtain at the top of the shelf. It wasn't even a jackknife anyway. He figured the terrorists had just missed it or something, but it was really just a useless set of spoons.

His sobs and cried reached their end as he began to slowly chuckle. His insane frenzy calmed to a steady laugh as the beeping reached a crescendo. His eyes were still red and feral and his muscles ached from flailing against the indomitable weight. Memories were slowly fading back into comprehension. Bad memories. He peered down the length of his arm to the shotgun.

Franco heard a distant bang as he reached the mall doors. When his body visible cringed at the sound, he made sure no one was around to see it.

His own beeping stopped soon after. He walked outside near to where Nathan was standing. He summoned up his grin once again, though it was slightly more awkward than normal, Nathan probably wouldn't notice.

"Where's the other dude?" Nathan looked over at Franco quizzically.

"Mr. Gofis won't be attending us this evening," Franco's eyes were fierce, his grin remained diplomatic. "He's decided to take another route. We might see him later."

Franco began to make his way to the marina for a second time.

B24 - Russell Gofis: Deceased

((Continued in In Order to Survive))