Rick Holeman looked over the cliffs. Bodies were everywhere, and he tried his best to breathe through his mouth. He was sitting down, looked at the now darkening sky, feeling the rain press against him.
Six days.
Six days he had been on this island. Almost a week he had survived. He had moved along quietly, using his map and compass to find his way through the jungle. He didn't want to leave the jungle, it was a haven to him. He had even made an impromptu shelter once the rain started. Though he had abandoned it when he heard people close by. There were always students around.
The first couple days Rick went to look for his friends. He always seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, watching as students committed brutal acts to each other. He never had the opportunity to step in and help anyone either.
Rick Holeman, the marine. Well, future marine. Here he was, captured by terrorists playing some stupid game. All he had was his pack, which he had quickly transferred the contents over to his book bag, and his Desert Eagle.
He was amazed at the handgun. He had never fired it before, and had only heard good things about it. It was a powerful handgun with one hell of a kick. Though, it definitely wasn't stealthy or small. He felt its weight in his hands and oddly enough didn't feel powerful. He felt weak. Exposed. He would have to move again soon. That's all he had been doing. Never keeping in one spot too long.
Movement would keep anybody who was tracking him at bay. It would also prevent the possibility of running into trouble. Trouble he heard enough of on the announcements. He heard friends of his dead. He had to find others, though with six days gone by really all he had been doing was just trying to make it by. Trying to survive. Doing what a marine does best.
"Semper fi huh?"
Rick stood up and rubbed his face. He could grow facial hair quite well, and six days without shaving led to giving him a rugged look. On the first day, his JROTC training kicked in and he did what he learned in case of a jungle survival situation. He covered his face and hands and legs with dirt. The rain had washed most of it away now, but there was still hints of the caked on dirt on his face.
Standing up he looked around.
He tried to ignore the bodies. So many bodies.
Looking down at his handgun he said, "So what now huh?"
Time and Time Again
B119 - Start
Time and Time Again
(B120: Start)
Jim Middleton was thoroughly exhausted.
He'd awoken on what was apparently the class's second day on the island (or so the announcements had told him) to a rattling list of his dead classmates, which had effectively managed to jog his memory. He remembered sitting in that stuffy room with the class and the projector, watching as Coach Whittenburg had his brains blown out all over the floor...at first, he really didn't want to believe it. He'd awoke in the field of flowers in time to see Brenden Bedard strangle the life out of Luis Chezinski, quite possibly the most harmless kid known to man. That was the turning point for him.
After running away with his pack in tow in a less than graceful manner, Jim spent the next five days laboriously travelling the dense jungle of the island. Every so often he'd come across a drowned house or two, but nothing he found provided good enough shelter. Eventually the jungle had broken into the marsh where he'd had terrible timing yet again, arriving just before Lenny Priestly brutally murdered Anna Vaan. He had so desperately wanted to shoot him right then and there, but having forgotten to take the safety off his gun (not to mention having forgotten to read the manual for it altogether), he simply sat stupified on the outskirts of the marsh as Anna was murdered.
Needless to say, after that he figured out how to use the Taurus by reading the manual so that he could hopefully prevent another situation like that from ever occurring. The thought of having to kill his friends didn't sit well with him, but neither did dying. And so, deciding that he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, Jim trudged on through the jungle, trying his best to conserve his rations. He was now down to one loaf of bread, however, having devoured the rest of his crackers and other loaf. His water supply was still fine, as he'd managed to fill it up about a day prior, but his stomach was growling incessantly.
Despite the fact that he could see a figure off in the distance, Jim was almost relieved when the dense jungle landscape finally broke off and led him to the sea cliffs. His suspicions were doused almost immediately when he recognized the boy as Rick Holeman, one of the most respectable seniors Southridge really had. If there were any of his classmates that were going places, Rick was definitely it. Jim envied the fact that he was so sure of himself and had found such a steady career pace - musicians really didn't have that luxury.
Approaching Rick casually and tucking the gun away in his pants (underneath his shirt), Jim gave him a once-over. His entire body was covered in dirt and his facial hair had grown out seemingly uncontrollably. Jim was sporting a bit of stubble himself, but nothing compared to the caveman cut Rick seemed to be sporting.
For being in such a terrible situation, Jim's tone was surprisingly jovial. "Wow, Ricky...you look like hell."
Jim Middleton was thoroughly exhausted.
He'd awoken on what was apparently the class's second day on the island (or so the announcements had told him) to a rattling list of his dead classmates, which had effectively managed to jog his memory. He remembered sitting in that stuffy room with the class and the projector, watching as Coach Whittenburg had his brains blown out all over the floor...at first, he really didn't want to believe it. He'd awoke in the field of flowers in time to see Brenden Bedard strangle the life out of Luis Chezinski, quite possibly the most harmless kid known to man. That was the turning point for him.
After running away with his pack in tow in a less than graceful manner, Jim spent the next five days laboriously travelling the dense jungle of the island. Every so often he'd come across a drowned house or two, but nothing he found provided good enough shelter. Eventually the jungle had broken into the marsh where he'd had terrible timing yet again, arriving just before Lenny Priestly brutally murdered Anna Vaan. He had so desperately wanted to shoot him right then and there, but having forgotten to take the safety off his gun (not to mention having forgotten to read the manual for it altogether), he simply sat stupified on the outskirts of the marsh as Anna was murdered.
Needless to say, after that he figured out how to use the Taurus by reading the manual so that he could hopefully prevent another situation like that from ever occurring. The thought of having to kill his friends didn't sit well with him, but neither did dying. And so, deciding that he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, Jim trudged on through the jungle, trying his best to conserve his rations. He was now down to one loaf of bread, however, having devoured the rest of his crackers and other loaf. His water supply was still fine, as he'd managed to fill it up about a day prior, but his stomach was growling incessantly.
Despite the fact that he could see a figure off in the distance, Jim was almost relieved when the dense jungle landscape finally broke off and led him to the sea cliffs. His suspicions were doused almost immediately when he recognized the boy as Rick Holeman, one of the most respectable seniors Southridge really had. If there were any of his classmates that were going places, Rick was definitely it. Jim envied the fact that he was so sure of himself and had found such a steady career pace - musicians really didn't have that luxury.
Approaching Rick casually and tucking the gun away in his pants (underneath his shirt), Jim gave him a once-over. His entire body was covered in dirt and his facial hair had grown out seemingly uncontrollably. Jim was sporting a bit of stubble himself, but nothing compared to the caveman cut Rick seemed to be sporting.
For being in such a terrible situation, Jim's tone was surprisingly jovial. "Wow, Ricky...you look like hell."
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While Rick and Jimmy were talking, someone else was watching from the shadows. Someone who, in essence, had completely lost his mind during the past week he'd spent on the island. Josh Novikov (Male Student no. 75) had spent all of the past six days alone in the jungle. He'd nearly been bitten by a snake and had been forced to bash a wolf to death with his hockey stick to keep himself from being eaten. He'd suffered a vicious bite at the hands of that wolf, and the swelling, pussing, and rotten smell that emitted from underneath his bandage would've been a clue to any sane person that it had gotten horribly infected.
Of course, Josh wasn't "any sane person".
The sad truth was, he'd lost his mind quite some time ago.
"Rick and Jimmy," Josh mused, his accent obvious, a strange smile creeping across his features, "Jimmy and Rick."
He stood up, his legs wobbly from having been in a crouching position for so long, and nearly fell over. Immediately, he stuck out his hockey stick in some vain attempt at keeping him on his feet. He wobbled a few moments more before finally standing upright. The smile once again crept across his face as he watched the two boys curiously. Using the hockey stick like a cane, he sauntered over to the two boys, looking them each up and down slowly, deliberately.
"Nice toy you have there, Rick and Jimmy," he mused with a faint laugh, "Mind if I play with it? I'm a smart guy, Jimmy and Rick, I really, really am. I bet I can take it and get us off the island. Off the island, and allll the way back home, Rick and Jimmy! Oh, I wanna go home... I wanna play with my toys some more. All the way home..."
Josh fell forward slightly, catching himself once again.
"Home... home... home... only one gets to go home, Ricky and Jimmy, Jimmy and Rick! Only one of us. It won't be you, oh no! Just me! Only me! I'll get to go home, you'll see, you'll see! But for me to go home... well... you just can't be! Guess that means... I'll just have to kill you both, yes?"
Josh's incoherent ramblings might have made no sense whatsoever, but his actions spoke much louder than his words. Suddenly, Josh swung his hockey stick around in a sloppy attempt at cracking Rick upside the head with it. All the while, he was smiling... an eerie smile, one that easily told tell of the fact that upstairs, no one was home.
Of course, Josh wasn't "any sane person".
The sad truth was, he'd lost his mind quite some time ago.
"Rick and Jimmy," Josh mused, his accent obvious, a strange smile creeping across his features, "Jimmy and Rick."
He stood up, his legs wobbly from having been in a crouching position for so long, and nearly fell over. Immediately, he stuck out his hockey stick in some vain attempt at keeping him on his feet. He wobbled a few moments more before finally standing upright. The smile once again crept across his face as he watched the two boys curiously. Using the hockey stick like a cane, he sauntered over to the two boys, looking them each up and down slowly, deliberately.
"Nice toy you have there, Rick and Jimmy," he mused with a faint laugh, "Mind if I play with it? I'm a smart guy, Jimmy and Rick, I really, really am. I bet I can take it and get us off the island. Off the island, and allll the way back home, Rick and Jimmy! Oh, I wanna go home... I wanna play with my toys some more. All the way home..."
Josh fell forward slightly, catching himself once again.
"Home... home... home... only one gets to go home, Ricky and Jimmy, Jimmy and Rick! Only one of us. It won't be you, oh no! Just me! Only me! I'll get to go home, you'll see, you'll see! But for me to go home... well... you just can't be! Guess that means... I'll just have to kill you both, yes?"
Josh's incoherent ramblings might have made no sense whatsoever, but his actions spoke much louder than his words. Suddenly, Josh swung his hockey stick around in a sloppy attempt at cracking Rick upside the head with it. All the while, he was smiling... an eerie smile, one that easily told tell of the fact that upstairs, no one was home.
Rick watched as Jim Middleton appeared before him. At first glance, Rick saw that he was unarmed, and his mind raced through the past days announcements. Jim wasn't mentioned on any of the announcements, and that eased Rick's mind.
Giving a small smile, Rick said, "Thanks. Don't expect me to tell you that you look like an angel. Cause you don't."
Rick thought about tucking his handgun into his jeans, then decided against it. Jim was a nice guy, and Rick talked to him a couple times before. He was one of those band kids. Band nerds, geeks, whatever you wanted to call them. Though he was genuinely a nice kid, who definitely had an aptitude for music. Something Rick admired because of his lack of any musical talent what so ever.
Rick didn't know exactly how to ask what he was going to ask next.
How do you ask someone if they are playing? How do you ask someone if they can be trusted?
Rick thought about it for a moment, and with his handgun lowered to his side to show that he wasn't a threat, said, "So..."
"I haven't heard your name on the announcements. I'm hoping that's a good thing?"
That's when Josh appeared. The Russian.
Rick didn't know much about Josh to be honest. He had seen him around, and spoken to him a couple of times, but they weren't even acquaintances.
Something was wrong with him though, as he was leaning on a hockey stick, with a bandage on his hand.
Rick felt his hand tighten around his Desert Eagle.
Josh kept speaking Rick and Jim's names, speaking incoherently. Had the boy gone crazy? What was wrong with him? Rick eyed him with an interest, and glanced at Jim to see what he thought of this.
Then Josh asked to have Rick's gun. Rick knew then that something must have snapped in Josh's brains, but he was keeping his calm, and his gun lowered as the boy approached. Rick didn't want to be a killer, but he didn't want him or Jim to get hurt either. Not by this boy who was obviously delirious.
Josh got closer, real close, and Rick spoke to him.
"Josh, come on, back up."
Rick brought his Desert Eagle to waist level, his mind racing through the JROTC and Marine training he received. Rules of Engagement right? Shooting now was bad. Josh wasn't a threat. Right now he was just...different. Maybe he needed help.
Then he said the kill word and swung his hockey stick sloppily at Rick's head.
Lucky for Rick it was an uneven swing, for he managed to throw his legs out from under him, letting gravity take him to the ground to avoid the swing. On his way down, he pulled, not squeezed, the trigger of his aimed Desert Eagle three times.
Giving a small smile, Rick said, "Thanks. Don't expect me to tell you that you look like an angel. Cause you don't."
Rick thought about tucking his handgun into his jeans, then decided against it. Jim was a nice guy, and Rick talked to him a couple times before. He was one of those band kids. Band nerds, geeks, whatever you wanted to call them. Though he was genuinely a nice kid, who definitely had an aptitude for music. Something Rick admired because of his lack of any musical talent what so ever.
Rick didn't know exactly how to ask what he was going to ask next.
How do you ask someone if they are playing? How do you ask someone if they can be trusted?
Rick thought about it for a moment, and with his handgun lowered to his side to show that he wasn't a threat, said, "So..."
"I haven't heard your name on the announcements. I'm hoping that's a good thing?"
That's when Josh appeared. The Russian.
Rick didn't know much about Josh to be honest. He had seen him around, and spoken to him a couple of times, but they weren't even acquaintances.
Something was wrong with him though, as he was leaning on a hockey stick, with a bandage on his hand.
Rick felt his hand tighten around his Desert Eagle.
Josh kept speaking Rick and Jim's names, speaking incoherently. Had the boy gone crazy? What was wrong with him? Rick eyed him with an interest, and glanced at Jim to see what he thought of this.
Then Josh asked to have Rick's gun. Rick knew then that something must have snapped in Josh's brains, but he was keeping his calm, and his gun lowered as the boy approached. Rick didn't want to be a killer, but he didn't want him or Jim to get hurt either. Not by this boy who was obviously delirious.
Josh got closer, real close, and Rick spoke to him.
"Josh, come on, back up."
Rick brought his Desert Eagle to waist level, his mind racing through the JROTC and Marine training he received. Rules of Engagement right? Shooting now was bad. Josh wasn't a threat. Right now he was just...different. Maybe he needed help.
Then he said the kill word and swung his hockey stick sloppily at Rick's head.
Lucky for Rick it was an uneven swing, for he managed to throw his legs out from under him, letting gravity take him to the ground to avoid the swing. On his way down, he pulled, not squeezed, the trigger of his aimed Desert Eagle three times.
Upon hearing that Rick was still of sound mind, Jim couldn't help but ease up a bit. The only people he'd seen so far had been two crazed killers and their victims, after all, so having good company was a nice relief. Upon hearing Rick's judgment of his appearance, though, the smile faded from Jim's face and was replaced by a lop-sided, joking frown.
"Really? Awww..."
It was a rare pleasure to actually find yourself in good spirits here on the island, and Jim planned on relishing the moment for as long as possible. Of course, it couldn't last long; and the sight of Rick's more than powerful handgun was enough to diminish his mood. He lowered it soon after Jim noticed it however, but the next question he formed didn't do much to pick Jim's mood up again.
"I haven't heard your name on the announcements. I'm hoping that's a good thing?"
Nodding feebly, Jim did his best to re-assure Rick. "Yeah, 'course it is. It hasn't been easy, though."
Before he could continue that train of thought, the two of them were interrupted by a foreign accent that made its way through the bushes. No sooner had Jim turned to look for the source of the disturbance than he found himself looking right at Josh Novikov, the more than infamous drug dealer. Jim wasn't stupid; he knew exactly why so many people loved to be around Josh all the time, and it wasn't because of his good looks or charm. The guy was a source of interest for many people around Highland Beach, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why.
As Josh continued to drone on, Jim felt himself becoming more and more hesitant. Josh wasn't the first person he would've liked to encounter on an island where so many people had a bad habit of going batshit crazy. Unfortunately for him, his suspicions seemed to be right, as each passing phrase Josh uttered seemed laced with more and more insanity. Jim felt himself reaching for the Taurus...
Soon afterwards Josh declared his intention to kill, and Rick was the first to react. Luckily for them Josh's attack had gone wide, but with Rick firing a big slugger like a desert eagle as he was falling, Jim doubted it would be enough to incapacitate their attacker even if it did hit him. Finally finding his armament, Jim flicked the safety off and pointed the Taurus towards Josh, trying to get a clear shot. Rick was now on the ground, but ideally Jim would've only liked to shoot him in the legs or something; enough for the two of them to get away and not kill him. He only had a hockey stick, after all.
"Back off, Josh!" Jim warned taking a second to steady his aim and pointing the Taurus at Josh's left shoulder in an attempt to disarm him. Closing his eyes, Jim squeezed the trigger once.
"Really? Awww..."
It was a rare pleasure to actually find yourself in good spirits here on the island, and Jim planned on relishing the moment for as long as possible. Of course, it couldn't last long; and the sight of Rick's more than powerful handgun was enough to diminish his mood. He lowered it soon after Jim noticed it however, but the next question he formed didn't do much to pick Jim's mood up again.
"I haven't heard your name on the announcements. I'm hoping that's a good thing?"
Nodding feebly, Jim did his best to re-assure Rick. "Yeah, 'course it is. It hasn't been easy, though."
Before he could continue that train of thought, the two of them were interrupted by a foreign accent that made its way through the bushes. No sooner had Jim turned to look for the source of the disturbance than he found himself looking right at Josh Novikov, the more than infamous drug dealer. Jim wasn't stupid; he knew exactly why so many people loved to be around Josh all the time, and it wasn't because of his good looks or charm. The guy was a source of interest for many people around Highland Beach, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why.
As Josh continued to drone on, Jim felt himself becoming more and more hesitant. Josh wasn't the first person he would've liked to encounter on an island where so many people had a bad habit of going batshit crazy. Unfortunately for him, his suspicions seemed to be right, as each passing phrase Josh uttered seemed laced with more and more insanity. Jim felt himself reaching for the Taurus...
Soon afterwards Josh declared his intention to kill, and Rick was the first to react. Luckily for them Josh's attack had gone wide, but with Rick firing a big slugger like a desert eagle as he was falling, Jim doubted it would be enough to incapacitate their attacker even if it did hit him. Finally finding his armament, Jim flicked the safety off and pointed the Taurus towards Josh, trying to get a clear shot. Rick was now on the ground, but ideally Jim would've only liked to shoot him in the legs or something; enough for the two of them to get away and not kill him. He only had a hockey stick, after all.
"Back off, Josh!" Jim warned taking a second to steady his aim and pointing the Taurus at Josh's left shoulder in an attempt to disarm him. Closing his eyes, Jim squeezed the trigger once.
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Predictably, Josh's barbaric lunge with the hockey stick accomplished almost nothing. Rick dodged the sloppy attack with ease and almost instantly turned the gun on Josh. The Russian boy's eyes widened dramatically as he spun around in a full circle. Rick's bullet missed Josh's head by a mile, but unfortunately for B75, it hit something else.
His heart.
Rick's bullet pierced his chest with enough force to send it sailing out the other end. At the same time, Jim fired his gun. The spinning motion Rick's bullet had caused sent Josh spiraling out of control and Jim's bullet hit him straight in the forehead, offering Joshua Novikov a second fatal shot for his troubles.
The corpse spun for a few seconds more before falling flat onto the ground below, it's mouth agape in horror at what had just occurred.
MALE STUDENT NO. 75 - JOSHUA "JOSH" NOVIKOV - DECEASED
His heart.
Rick's bullet pierced his chest with enough force to send it sailing out the other end. At the same time, Jim fired his gun. The spinning motion Rick's bullet had caused sent Josh spiraling out of control and Jim's bullet hit him straight in the forehead, offering Joshua Novikov a second fatal shot for his troubles.
The corpse spun for a few seconds more before falling flat onto the ground below, it's mouth agape in horror at what had just occurred.
MALE STUDENT NO. 75 - JOSHUA "JOSH" NOVIKOV - DECEASED
So that was it.
Josh the Russian lay dead before Rick and Jim. His chest and head bloody messes. Rick slowly stood up and looked at Jim. This was too surreal. Rick was supposed to be off in some third world country, wearing the US Marines uniform. He was supposed to be carrying an assault rifle, heavily armed, with trained men who he could trust.
He was supposed to be killing terrorists.
Not his fellow classmates.
Rick Holeman looked down at his gun, then looked at the dead body. He and Jim had just killed a boy. Killed him. Rick thought back to his decision to become a Marine. He thought he could handle it. He thought the training would make him tough. It would tear him down and build him up. He was actually looking forward to Paris Island. To squad leader training.
That was all in the past now. He was here with a fellow classmate, standing over a dead body.
"Jim, I think our names are no longer clear from the announcements."
Josh the Russian lay dead before Rick and Jim. His chest and head bloody messes. Rick slowly stood up and looked at Jim. This was too surreal. Rick was supposed to be off in some third world country, wearing the US Marines uniform. He was supposed to be carrying an assault rifle, heavily armed, with trained men who he could trust.
He was supposed to be killing terrorists.
Not his fellow classmates.
Rick Holeman looked down at his gun, then looked at the dead body. He and Jim had just killed a boy. Killed him. Rick thought back to his decision to become a Marine. He thought he could handle it. He thought the training would make him tough. It would tear him down and build him up. He was actually looking forward to Paris Island. To squad leader training.
That was all in the past now. He was here with a fellow classmate, standing over a dead body.
"Jim, I think our names are no longer clear from the announcements."
Jim's eyes shot open and he watched in amazement as Josh's body seemed to spin almost elegantly before toppling over under its own weight. Somehow he'd known before he pulled the trigger that Josh wasn't going to survive the ordeal; the look in his eyes from the second he'd shown up had told him that Josh was mad, and there was no way anyone was escaping that situation without at least one new corpse being added to the mass that now lined the sea cliffs.
Stunned, Jim pocketed the Taurus. He had no idea why he wasn't reacting more violently. It could've been because he'd already witnessed his other classmates get murdered; classmates who didn't deserve to be killed, like Luis Chezinski, or Anna Vaan. Compared to them, Josh Novikov was an agent of Satan. It didn't exactly justify them killing him, but the fact that Josh struck first had to mean something...right?
"Ricky, don't beat yourself up," Jim started, walking a few steps closer to Josh to take a closer look. "Jeeze, smell that...?" He inquired, staring down towards Josh before finally concluding that he was dead. He turned his attention back to Ricky. "You saw him, he was crazy. If we hadn't done that he could've killed you. I mean come on, we're on the edge of a cliff." It was a rather obvious statement, but Jim felt like he had to cheer Ricky up. Something told him that Ricky was taking this harder than he was.
Trying to approach from another angle, and taking the silence to mean that Ricky was still pretty stunned, Jim spoke up again a few seconds later. "You wanted to be a marine...right?" He began, looking over at the other corpses that lined the cliff. Kara Holmes' disturbed him the most, and he made a mental note to try not to look in that direction again. "People like him are the kind you're trying to dispatch, right? If we hadn't have done it, think of who else he could've gotten to! There could be even more corpses here right now..."
The cliffs looked absolutely grotesque. The grass along them was stained a dark crimson, and five or six different bodies lie mutilated in different ways along them. Jim struggled to take the sight in, then cleared his throat and voiced an idea. "We should..." he started, indicating the bodies with his finger and then nodding his head in the direction of the cliffs. "Nobody else should have to see this, especially their parents. It'd be like giving them a funeral..." He suggested, eager to hear Rick's response.
Stunned, Jim pocketed the Taurus. He had no idea why he wasn't reacting more violently. It could've been because he'd already witnessed his other classmates get murdered; classmates who didn't deserve to be killed, like Luis Chezinski, or Anna Vaan. Compared to them, Josh Novikov was an agent of Satan. It didn't exactly justify them killing him, but the fact that Josh struck first had to mean something...right?
"Ricky, don't beat yourself up," Jim started, walking a few steps closer to Josh to take a closer look. "Jeeze, smell that...?" He inquired, staring down towards Josh before finally concluding that he was dead. He turned his attention back to Ricky. "You saw him, he was crazy. If we hadn't done that he could've killed you. I mean come on, we're on the edge of a cliff." It was a rather obvious statement, but Jim felt like he had to cheer Ricky up. Something told him that Ricky was taking this harder than he was.
Trying to approach from another angle, and taking the silence to mean that Ricky was still pretty stunned, Jim spoke up again a few seconds later. "You wanted to be a marine...right?" He began, looking over at the other corpses that lined the cliff. Kara Holmes' disturbed him the most, and he made a mental note to try not to look in that direction again. "People like him are the kind you're trying to dispatch, right? If we hadn't have done it, think of who else he could've gotten to! There could be even more corpses here right now..."
The cliffs looked absolutely grotesque. The grass along them was stained a dark crimson, and five or six different bodies lie mutilated in different ways along them. Jim struggled to take the sight in, then cleared his throat and voiced an idea. "We should..." he started, indicating the bodies with his finger and then nodding his head in the direction of the cliffs. "Nobody else should have to see this, especially their parents. It'd be like giving them a funeral..." He suggested, eager to hear Rick's response.
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Rick never thought he would find himself with a band geek fighting for survival. Though fate does weird things. The future marine and musician were now alone, surrounded by dead bodies, both trying to get by. To survive on an island where to kill was the aim of the game.
Jim was right. Rick wanted to be a marine. He went through classes, made high marks in JROTC, he wouldn't let this get to him. Josh was crazy. Unstable. He could have killed students who weren't as well prepared for the situation. Rick and Jim could have just saved a life. They could have saved multiple lives.
"You're right. Stupid ruskie had it coming."
Rick felt his hands shaking. This was new to him. If he was with trained men, wearing real military gear, hunting real bad guys, this would be ok. Killing a fellow American wasn't. Though Jim was right. It had to be done. Rick tucked his Desert Eagle back in his pants.
Jim then talked about giving the kids on the cliff a funeral. Throwing them off the cliffs. He was right, no one should have to see this. The kids all deserved some sort of final resting place.
"Let's do it. It's not like we have anything else to do. After we're done with them we can figure out what to do next."
Rick leaned down and grabbed Josh's legs.
"Might as well start with this poor bastard."
Jim was right. Rick wanted to be a marine. He went through classes, made high marks in JROTC, he wouldn't let this get to him. Josh was crazy. Unstable. He could have killed students who weren't as well prepared for the situation. Rick and Jim could have just saved a life. They could have saved multiple lives.
"You're right. Stupid ruskie had it coming."
Rick felt his hands shaking. This was new to him. If he was with trained men, wearing real military gear, hunting real bad guys, this would be ok. Killing a fellow American wasn't. Though Jim was right. It had to be done. Rick tucked his Desert Eagle back in his pants.
Jim then talked about giving the kids on the cliff a funeral. Throwing them off the cliffs. He was right, no one should have to see this. The kids all deserved some sort of final resting place.
"Let's do it. It's not like we have anything else to do. After we're done with them we can figure out what to do next."
Rick leaned down and grabbed Josh's legs.
"Might as well start with this poor bastard."
"Okay..." Jim acknowledged, nodding in Rick's direction and peaking down to some of the cliff formations below them. It was a bit of a steep climb down, but there seemed to be just as many corpses on the lower cliff levels as there were up top. Deciding to leave Josh, Christian and Katherine up to Rick (since he was closer to them), Jim began scaling his way down the steep path towards one of the lower cliff-faces.
After a few minutes he made it down to another level, but the sights that met him there were even more grotesque than what he'd seen at the top. The first corpse he noticed was Kara Holmes, neck blown apart and her own foot shoved down what remained of her mouth and head. Kara wasn't Jim's favourite person in the world, but there was no way that she deserved to be treated like that. Now more than ever, Jim realized the scope of some of the people he'd be dealing with if he intended to survive the ordeal on the island. After taking in the sight for a final time, Jim grabbed Kara by the arms and pulled her over to the edge of the cliff, then proceeded to push her off and into the water below.
Nigel was the next person that caught Jim's attention. His neck had apparently been broken, given that his head was in a somewhat awkward position relative to his body. Getting him off the cliff proved to be a rather difficult challenge, and finally Jim had to result to sitting on the ground and pushing Nigel off with his legs. Khrysta, Rebbecca and Galen proved to be much easier challenges, but they were anything but easy to look at. Still, by the time Jim had finished, the only thing that remained of the dead students at the sea cliffs were their streaks of blood across the grass from where he'd dragged them down into the water below.
Exhausted, Jim made his way back up the cliff-face to the top to reunite with Rick and check how he'd been making out. Moving past him, Jim made his way over to Josh's pack and began to divide what remained of the rations into two equal parts, then sorted half of them into his bag while waiting for Rick to finish with the three corpses that surrounded them.
After a few minutes he made it down to another level, but the sights that met him there were even more grotesque than what he'd seen at the top. The first corpse he noticed was Kara Holmes, neck blown apart and her own foot shoved down what remained of her mouth and head. Kara wasn't Jim's favourite person in the world, but there was no way that she deserved to be treated like that. Now more than ever, Jim realized the scope of some of the people he'd be dealing with if he intended to survive the ordeal on the island. After taking in the sight for a final time, Jim grabbed Kara by the arms and pulled her over to the edge of the cliff, then proceeded to push her off and into the water below.
Nigel was the next person that caught Jim's attention. His neck had apparently been broken, given that his head was in a somewhat awkward position relative to his body. Getting him off the cliff proved to be a rather difficult challenge, and finally Jim had to result to sitting on the ground and pushing Nigel off with his legs. Khrysta, Rebbecca and Galen proved to be much easier challenges, but they were anything but easy to look at. Still, by the time Jim had finished, the only thing that remained of the dead students at the sea cliffs were their streaks of blood across the grass from where he'd dragged them down into the water below.
Exhausted, Jim made his way back up the cliff-face to the top to reunite with Rick and check how he'd been making out. Moving past him, Jim made his way over to Josh's pack and began to divide what remained of the rations into two equal parts, then sorted half of them into his bag while waiting for Rick to finish with the three corpses that surrounded them.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Crash. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Rick watched as Jim started to get to work with the bodies, and he joined in. Pulling at Josh's feet he brought him to where the cliff dropped off to the lower section, which then lead to the water down below. Rick thought for a moment, then decided that it wasn't that far out length wise, and he would be able to toss Josh over without having to move to the lower level of the cliff.
Hoisting Josh over his shoulders, Rick held his breath, trying to not think about the blood that was staining his clothes. He didn't want to think about how he and Jim were now just grave diggers in a sense. Except they were just handling the bodies, the grave was already made. Rick made his way over to the edge, and using all his strength managed to throw Josh past the lower level, and he watched as Josh's body hit the water.
Josh's dead body seemed to float for a while, before being sucked away into the sea. Rick closed his eyes, praying that he wouldn't end up like him. Turning around, he saw Christian and Katherine.
Rick decided to take care of Christian first. The boy appeared to have died by a gunshot wound, and Rick hesitated before he picked him up to throw him to his grave. The smell was bad, though it had always been bad. The rain had helped to wash the bodies, though the closer he got, the more it smelled.
The smell of death. Something you read about in books, or heard about in movies, but nothing you could relate to. It was nothing like he imagined.
You would have had to have smelled this eventually man...you were...are going to become a marine. Come on toughen up.
Rick hoisted Christian like he did Josh, and committed the same burial, tossing him into the endless sea.
Finally was Katherine Blanco. She was always a cute little girl, though she never really seemed interested in men or dating. Her neck was swollen, and Rick wondered what happened to her. He forgot how the announcements slated her off.
Finally, hoisting her up, he walked to the edge of the cliffs and sent her on her way. When he was done, he returned to the now empty area, streaked with blood and forever scarred by the events that had taken place.
Rick knelt down, feeling the rain press against him. He turned to see Jim was also done with his work.
"Poor kids. Those are our classmates. None of them deserve this."
Rick stood up, surveying the scene.
"We've been surviving for six days now. Six days yet there are still kids who can do this. Friends of ours who are dying by other friends of ours. Six days we've been surviving. I've done nothing to help anyone during those six days. I've been just surviving. What's that going to get us Jim? Another couple days before we end up like our fellow seniors who we just sent into the ocean?"
He could feel his gun pressing against his hip.
"There has to be something we can do. Some way we can help people survive. Some way we can stop people like Josh from killing."
Rick felt a hint of rage. Hatred towards those who could commit such acts. He had wanted to be a marine to serve his country. To protect those who cared and loved. To be the strong so the weak could have someone to look up to. How was he supposed to help people on an island gone crazy?
Hoisting Josh over his shoulders, Rick held his breath, trying to not think about the blood that was staining his clothes. He didn't want to think about how he and Jim were now just grave diggers in a sense. Except they were just handling the bodies, the grave was already made. Rick made his way over to the edge, and using all his strength managed to throw Josh past the lower level, and he watched as Josh's body hit the water.
Josh's dead body seemed to float for a while, before being sucked away into the sea. Rick closed his eyes, praying that he wouldn't end up like him. Turning around, he saw Christian and Katherine.
Rick decided to take care of Christian first. The boy appeared to have died by a gunshot wound, and Rick hesitated before he picked him up to throw him to his grave. The smell was bad, though it had always been bad. The rain had helped to wash the bodies, though the closer he got, the more it smelled.
The smell of death. Something you read about in books, or heard about in movies, but nothing you could relate to. It was nothing like he imagined.
You would have had to have smelled this eventually man...you were...are going to become a marine. Come on toughen up.
Rick hoisted Christian like he did Josh, and committed the same burial, tossing him into the endless sea.
Finally was Katherine Blanco. She was always a cute little girl, though she never really seemed interested in men or dating. Her neck was swollen, and Rick wondered what happened to her. He forgot how the announcements slated her off.
Finally, hoisting her up, he walked to the edge of the cliffs and sent her on her way. When he was done, he returned to the now empty area, streaked with blood and forever scarred by the events that had taken place.
Rick knelt down, feeling the rain press against him. He turned to see Jim was also done with his work.
"Poor kids. Those are our classmates. None of them deserve this."
Rick stood up, surveying the scene.
"We've been surviving for six days now. Six days yet there are still kids who can do this. Friends of ours who are dying by other friends of ours. Six days we've been surviving. I've done nothing to help anyone during those six days. I've been just surviving. What's that going to get us Jim? Another couple days before we end up like our fellow seniors who we just sent into the ocean?"
He could feel his gun pressing against his hip.
"There has to be something we can do. Some way we can help people survive. Some way we can stop people like Josh from killing."
Rick felt a hint of rage. Hatred towards those who could commit such acts. He had wanted to be a marine to serve his country. To protect those who cared and loved. To be the strong so the weak could have someone to look up to. How was he supposed to help people on an island gone crazy?
((Dacey 'Dawson' Ashcroft continued from: What a day, what a day, what a day.))
Dacey hadn't been able to keep Herman safe all that long. Saving someone's life one moment, and watching them lose it the next. That was just how SotF went she supposed. It wasn't always physical prowess, sometimes it simply boiled down to luck and chance. Totally random.
Looking up from the ground (the jungle not being the easiest place to trek through at night) Dacey stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't wearing her sunglasses at this point, because that would have been exceptionally stupid, and besides, even though her eyes were rather feminine, who would be able to look closely enough in the dark to make that out? As such, she saw, quite clearly silhouetted against the water below, two figures. They looked to be... dumping bodies?
Either that's very respectful or they're trying to avoid people seeing their handiwork. Which could it be?
If they were killers and they caught sight of Dacey she didn't stand much of a chance. Having superior stature wasn't a huge boon when you had an athletic rather than muscular physique - especially when you took into account that women generally weren't as strong as men. A size advantage would only come into play if they both didn't have good weapons and weren't very good fighters. What good would a butter knife do against a gun?
Dacey hesitated.
But what if they weren't killers? What if they were good guys just trying to make it out? Dacey would much rather be with other people - especially if they were well-armed, than trying to make her way around the island solo.
Given the position of the pair - lower than her, although she would stand out against the skyline, if she needed to, she would be able to get well away just by fleeing.
It was worth the risk.
"Hey," Dacey paused, then intentionally gruffed up her voice a little - she couldn't let it slip... not now. "It's Dawson Ashcroft. You ... playing?"
Dacey hadn't been able to keep Herman safe all that long. Saving someone's life one moment, and watching them lose it the next. That was just how SotF went she supposed. It wasn't always physical prowess, sometimes it simply boiled down to luck and chance. Totally random.
Looking up from the ground (the jungle not being the easiest place to trek through at night) Dacey stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't wearing her sunglasses at this point, because that would have been exceptionally stupid, and besides, even though her eyes were rather feminine, who would be able to look closely enough in the dark to make that out? As such, she saw, quite clearly silhouetted against the water below, two figures. They looked to be... dumping bodies?
Either that's very respectful or they're trying to avoid people seeing their handiwork. Which could it be?
If they were killers and they caught sight of Dacey she didn't stand much of a chance. Having superior stature wasn't a huge boon when you had an athletic rather than muscular physique - especially when you took into account that women generally weren't as strong as men. A size advantage would only come into play if they both didn't have good weapons and weren't very good fighters. What good would a butter knife do against a gun?
Dacey hesitated.
But what if they weren't killers? What if they were good guys just trying to make it out? Dacey would much rather be with other people - especially if they were well-armed, than trying to make her way around the island solo.
Given the position of the pair - lower than her, although she would stand out against the skyline, if she needed to, she would be able to get well away just by fleeing.
It was worth the risk.
"Hey," Dacey paused, then intentionally gruffed up her voice a little - she couldn't let it slip... not now. "It's Dawson Ashcroft. You ... playing?"
Through the darkness came a rough voice. Dawson Ashcroft's voice to be exact. Though Rick knew nothing about Dawson except that he was rather new to Southridge High School. Rick glanced at Jim, then glanced towards the direction of the voice. It was hard to see, and Rick felt his hand tighten around his Desert Eagle. Rick couldn't remember Dawson's name being listed on the announcements but better safe than sorry.
"Yeah, this is Rick Holeman and Jim Middleton."
Rick looked around, seeing that if this was an attack, there was no running away. He had to hope that he and Jim had superior weapons. Or better yet that Dawson wasn't playing.
"It's dark Dawson, where are you? Me and Jim aren't playing. We just got done..." Rick realized the absurdity of what he just did moments earlier. Him and Jim were putting to rest dead bodies. How could you tell someone that? Would Dawson believe Rick or think he was crazy?
"We were burying some bodies in the water I guess."
"Yeah, this is Rick Holeman and Jim Middleton."
Rick looked around, seeing that if this was an attack, there was no running away. He had to hope that he and Jim had superior weapons. Or better yet that Dawson wasn't playing.
"It's dark Dawson, where are you? Me and Jim aren't playing. We just got done..." Rick realized the absurdity of what he just did moments earlier. Him and Jim were putting to rest dead bodies. How could you tell someone that? Would Dawson believe Rick or think he was crazy?
"We were burying some bodies in the water I guess."
"There has to be something we can do. Some way we can help people survive. Some way we can stop people like Josh from killing."
The same thought had been reverberating through Jim's mind as he was laying his fellow classmates to rest in the water below. He'd been pondering how the guys and girls he'd come to know in the past four years could be transformed into such detached killers, or just plain loonies like Josh Novikov seemed to have become. More importantly, like Rick, he'd been thinking about what he could do to prevent more people from winding up like Nigel or Galen.
After Jim had finished pilfering half of Josh's rations (he'd opted for the crackers instead of what was left of the bread, owing to Josh's pretty nasty looking infection), he stood up and turned to give Rick his full attention. He was right, none of their friends deserved this. Still, what could a prospective Marine and a band geek do to prevent anything?
Once he remembered Rick's ideal career, Jim's thoughts became not only a lot clearer, but a hell of a lot more depressing. Rick was probably willing to go to any lengths to help people survive. After all, it was in his job description. By proxy, if Jim stayed with him, they would both probably wind up dying here. But if surviving meant killing his friends off one by one, was it really worth it after all? What kind of life did he have to go back to if all the people he cared about were dead?
"To protect and serve...right?" Jim spoke up suddenly, trying in vain to break the awkward tension that had arisen since the two had disposed of their classmates' bodies. "What if we try to take out the other kids who are playing? If it gives everyone else a better chance, then it's probably worth it..." Even as he spoke the words, Jim found himself having a hard time believing them. What could he do? He was a band geek who just happened to have been given a gun; there was no way he could work as effectively as a trained person like Rick could. Still, if he couldn't save himself or the people he cared about, what else could he do? Killing the others and dying in vain were two options that Jim didn't even want to consider.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jim realized that another person had shown up. They'd probably been there the entire time he was speaking and he simply hadn't realized it. He turned to face Dawson, struggling to recognize him at all. He looked pretty lean for a guy, almost unhealthily so, but what bothered Jim more was that he didn't seem to remember him at all. Brushing it off as him being a new student, Jim spoke up in turn.
"We just didn't want anyone else to have to see them like that," he chimed in solemnly, waiting to se how 'Dawson' would react to the entire situation.
The same thought had been reverberating through Jim's mind as he was laying his fellow classmates to rest in the water below. He'd been pondering how the guys and girls he'd come to know in the past four years could be transformed into such detached killers, or just plain loonies like Josh Novikov seemed to have become. More importantly, like Rick, he'd been thinking about what he could do to prevent more people from winding up like Nigel or Galen.
After Jim had finished pilfering half of Josh's rations (he'd opted for the crackers instead of what was left of the bread, owing to Josh's pretty nasty looking infection), he stood up and turned to give Rick his full attention. He was right, none of their friends deserved this. Still, what could a prospective Marine and a band geek do to prevent anything?
Once he remembered Rick's ideal career, Jim's thoughts became not only a lot clearer, but a hell of a lot more depressing. Rick was probably willing to go to any lengths to help people survive. After all, it was in his job description. By proxy, if Jim stayed with him, they would both probably wind up dying here. But if surviving meant killing his friends off one by one, was it really worth it after all? What kind of life did he have to go back to if all the people he cared about were dead?
"To protect and serve...right?" Jim spoke up suddenly, trying in vain to break the awkward tension that had arisen since the two had disposed of their classmates' bodies. "What if we try to take out the other kids who are playing? If it gives everyone else a better chance, then it's probably worth it..." Even as he spoke the words, Jim found himself having a hard time believing them. What could he do? He was a band geek who just happened to have been given a gun; there was no way he could work as effectively as a trained person like Rick could. Still, if he couldn't save himself or the people he cared about, what else could he do? Killing the others and dying in vain were two options that Jim didn't even want to consider.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jim realized that another person had shown up. They'd probably been there the entire time he was speaking and he simply hadn't realized it. He turned to face Dawson, struggling to recognize him at all. He looked pretty lean for a guy, almost unhealthily so, but what bothered Jim more was that he didn't seem to remember him at all. Brushing it off as him being a new student, Jim spoke up in turn.
"We just didn't want anyone else to have to see them like that," he chimed in solemnly, waiting to se how 'Dawson' would react to the entire situation.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Crash. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Burying bodies? The hell...
Dacey felt no shame in admitting that the names called back meant next to nothing to her. Outside of the soccer team she knew very few people well enough to even be on casual speaking terms with them. The first though - Rick Holeman, tweaked at her memory a little, and after a moment, Dacey recalled what little she knew about him. She liked watching Southridge's football team on play, and if she remembered correctly, Rick was on said team. Still, that was about all that came to mind regarding him, so it wasn't exactly a huge help to her.
After a moment's consideration, Dacey decided that the boys probably wouldn't be so open about what they were doing if their intent was malicious, and spoke up for a second time, maintaining the roughness of tone, which she was very much used to doing by now.
"I'm further uphill than you guys," 'Dawson' told Rick. She hesitated, then stood up and waved, knowing that from where they stood she would be standing out against the sky. After that, she sat down again, not wanting to make herself a target just in case the pair really were pulling some sort of trick. "Mind if I come down there?" she asked. "I'm feeling a little exposed up here,"
Of course, if they were playing, she'd be screwed, but you couldn't hide forever, and if they weren't, then hopefully they wouldn't mind somebody else in their group. Besides which, Dacey had managed to escape from one (heck, a group of) crazed killer already, she had confidence in her ability to do the same here.
Dacey felt no shame in admitting that the names called back meant next to nothing to her. Outside of the soccer team she knew very few people well enough to even be on casual speaking terms with them. The first though - Rick Holeman, tweaked at her memory a little, and after a moment, Dacey recalled what little she knew about him. She liked watching Southridge's football team on play, and if she remembered correctly, Rick was on said team. Still, that was about all that came to mind regarding him, so it wasn't exactly a huge help to her.
After a moment's consideration, Dacey decided that the boys probably wouldn't be so open about what they were doing if their intent was malicious, and spoke up for a second time, maintaining the roughness of tone, which she was very much used to doing by now.
"I'm further uphill than you guys," 'Dawson' told Rick. She hesitated, then stood up and waved, knowing that from where they stood she would be standing out against the sky. After that, she sat down again, not wanting to make herself a target just in case the pair really were pulling some sort of trick. "Mind if I come down there?" she asked. "I'm feeling a little exposed up here,"
Of course, if they were playing, she'd be screwed, but you couldn't hide forever, and if they weren't, then hopefully they wouldn't mind somebody else in their group. Besides which, Dacey had managed to escape from one (heck, a group of) crazed killer already, she had confidence in her ability to do the same here.