((Aditi Sharma continues from They Couldn’t Buy A Fucking Toaster. They’re Broke, John.))
"A few days ago, I made all this big talk about how we could make our way out of here. I'd made all these promises and grand statements about how, if we 'bent the rules' enough, it would make the game unsustainable to run. Obviously, the terrorists would have to let us go, right?
"I was wrong. We've just sat around for days, and in the meantime, by my count, 43 people have died. 43, and no one has come by to rescue us in the meantime. Not the Coast Guard, not the Army, not the Navy, not a single plane has flown by, not a single boat has sailed by. If people were coming, they would've come by now. And in the meantime, no fruitful ideas have come to mind, just rhetoric and empty air. Concepts, but no plans. And maybe that's because there is no plan to be made. Or at least no plan we can think of, no plan we're capable of.
"So Ma, Pa, Jay, forgive me. Pāṭṭi, eṉṉai maṉṉiyuṅkaḷ. Forgive me if I think no help is coming. Forgive me for realizing that the only way out of here is the one that's been in front of us this entire time, a way through hell. It has taken me a lot of thinking to come to this, but I refuse to let this attack take away everything I've worked for. I intend on coming home, and if that means playing their game, so be it.
"And, to Charelle's parents, I hope you'll understand."
With that, Aditi turned away from the camera, mounted at the foot of a tree.
Being a debater required you to play devil's advocate every now and then. Sometimes it meant arguing that fashion was obsolete, an elitist art meant to further inequality. Sometimes it meant arguing in favor of maintaining custom, tradition, even if it meant keeping you back from your own desires and aspirations. And sometimes it meant arguing for the unspeakable.
Inside the front and back entrances of one of the nearby houses was debris, some of it already there when Aditi and Charelle had set up camp, and some of it boards and branches collected from other houses. They hadn't been able to explore this section of houses back when it had just been the two of them, but aside from the more dilapidated state of things, the set-up of each house was roughly the same, which was ideal for their plan. In Aditi's bags were bottles of tincture of benzoin, complete with a yellow sleeve that read 'FLAMMABLE' on the bottom, along with lighters collected from the rest of the group. In Aditi's hands was an unhinged cabinet door, hopefully sheltered enough from the rain and wind to keep it dry.
And inside one of the nearby houses, Charelle laid inside, eyes closed.
Aditi added to the pile at the front threshold, and walked back outside for one last trip.
Yellow Light
Day 6, 9 PM: Private
((Charelle Chernyshyova continued from They Couldn't Buy a Fucking Toaster. They're Broke, John.))
Charelle slept.
Charelle slept...
She tried to breathe evenly, all-natural like. Tried to not move around, even when her nose itched and it took everything in her power not to scratch it. Now, Charelle didn't actually know what Charelle looked like when she was asleep, because Charelle was always sleeping when Charelle was asleep, but she tried out her best approximation. She had to be as convincing as possible. If she wasn't, the terrorists might notice she wasn't really sleeping. And then they'd all blow up, probably.
Of course, she couldn't actually fall asleep. That would be bad, too. Reaaally bad.
Not that it would actually happen. Charelle was a bundle of nerves right now. This whole thing relied on the terrorists not just deciding to push that big red button that blew their collars. Hopefully they were convincing enough.
Charelle slept... and slept...
Charelle slept.
Charelle slept...
She tried to breathe evenly, all-natural like. Tried to not move around, even when her nose itched and it took everything in her power not to scratch it. Now, Charelle didn't actually know what Charelle looked like when she was asleep, because Charelle was always sleeping when Charelle was asleep, but she tried out her best approximation. She had to be as convincing as possible. If she wasn't, the terrorists might notice she wasn't really sleeping. And then they'd all blow up, probably.
Of course, she couldn't actually fall asleep. That would be bad, too. Reaaally bad.
Not that it would actually happen. Charelle was a bundle of nerves right now. This whole thing relied on the terrorists not just deciding to push that big red button that blew their collars. Hopefully they were convincing enough.
Charelle slept... and slept...
And Aditi walked.
The houses in the immediate vicinity of their shelter had already been cleared of all suitable material, so Aditi walked further. She looked back one last time at where she came from, noted certain details. Like the color of the walls, yellow, the one large window, right next to Charelle's bed, the pile of wood, blocking the back entrance, and the location of the building at the edge of the housing area. Yellow, window, edge.
The three-word mantra, approximation of an address, was repeated by Aditi under her breath as she weaved her way in and around houses, skipping the ones with compromised walls and caved roofs. The wood in those houses would be damp, rotten, especially after the rainstorm that had delayed their plan for two days, and the humidity that followed.
The cardigan she'd brought to the island still sat forgotten in some corner of her bag. It remained there, rendered useless by the wet, stagnant air. Part of her had considered throwing it on one of the piles, providing tinder, but she would probably regret the decision come another rainstorm.
In the still air, heat and water vapor collected. There was no wind to carry the embers of the fire, no wind to provide sound, distract from her own thoughts. The conditions weren't ideal, she wanted a conflagration, not a campfire, but they had wasted enough time as was. The number she had provided the cameras, 43, was not a guess.
Taking note of the victims and killers was simply part of the daily routine. They needed to identify possible threats, after all. But there were little pauses after each name was announced, after the speakers shut off. Seconds of silence for each of the fallen. Some names were more familiar than others, some with more detailed stories than others. And that was all they would be now, stories, because they had waited. Executing the plan prematurely, while all the potential tinder was wet, for example, would mean failure. But each hour spent waiting for the rain to let up, for the wood to dry, had been excruciating. In the purple house, the place they'd waited at before, Aditi had walked a thousand circles, if only because walking in places felt less like inertia.
She found a house she had not been in before, and she knew she hadn't been because of the corpse that laid inside. She couldn't hazard a guess at the identity, but the flies that swarmed around its head told her all she needed to know. The stench too, actually, but the smell had been omnipresent as of late. She just hadn't realized what it was until that moment.
She thought she would have had a stronger reaction to seeing her first body. Screaming, shell shocked silence, fight or flight response. But the first thing that came to her mind was this is where we all end up. If this plan didn't succeed, if the terrorists saw past their gambit and exploded their collars, this is where they'd end up. Corpses and stories, from living figures to abstractions retold by other people, distorted and deified and demonized until the idea was something separate from the person it was based on. It was not shrieking terror, but an idle horror, a quiet dread that crept into Aditi's mind at the sight of this corpse. If their plan failed, they would be left to this.
If they didn't do their plan at all, they would be left to this.
The possibility of walking away had briefly occurred to Aditi. If she walked away, there'd be no risk of the terrorists ending their lives right then and there, they could plan a few more days, iron out any kinks. The inactivity of the past few days, the time she had spent alone with Charelle, it beckoned to her. But, whether or not they waited it out, ironed out all possible kinks, the game would come to them at some point. And the result would be the same for all but one.
The moon above barely lit up the area, leaving the distance covered in darkness. She considered the permanence of the dark, and it terrified her. There had been some truth in Aditi's fake manifesto. She didn't have any intentions on dying. But, to live by submitting to the terrorist's will, by allowing the people that robbed her life to dictate what she did with it, it was against everything she stood for.
If the plan failed, they died. If they didn't go through with the plan, they died. The odds told her that the lighter in her hand was the only way out.
And so she followed.
She walked past the corpse and found an empty dufflebag, a discarded weapon manual. A survival guide, too. Propaganda. This would do.
She collected the materials, and walked back to the yellow house, lighter in hand.
The houses in the immediate vicinity of their shelter had already been cleared of all suitable material, so Aditi walked further. She looked back one last time at where she came from, noted certain details. Like the color of the walls, yellow, the one large window, right next to Charelle's bed, the pile of wood, blocking the back entrance, and the location of the building at the edge of the housing area. Yellow, window, edge.
The three-word mantra, approximation of an address, was repeated by Aditi under her breath as she weaved her way in and around houses, skipping the ones with compromised walls and caved roofs. The wood in those houses would be damp, rotten, especially after the rainstorm that had delayed their plan for two days, and the humidity that followed.
The cardigan she'd brought to the island still sat forgotten in some corner of her bag. It remained there, rendered useless by the wet, stagnant air. Part of her had considered throwing it on one of the piles, providing tinder, but she would probably regret the decision come another rainstorm.
In the still air, heat and water vapor collected. There was no wind to carry the embers of the fire, no wind to provide sound, distract from her own thoughts. The conditions weren't ideal, she wanted a conflagration, not a campfire, but they had wasted enough time as was. The number she had provided the cameras, 43, was not a guess.
Taking note of the victims and killers was simply part of the daily routine. They needed to identify possible threats, after all. But there were little pauses after each name was announced, after the speakers shut off. Seconds of silence for each of the fallen. Some names were more familiar than others, some with more detailed stories than others. And that was all they would be now, stories, because they had waited. Executing the plan prematurely, while all the potential tinder was wet, for example, would mean failure. But each hour spent waiting for the rain to let up, for the wood to dry, had been excruciating. In the purple house, the place they'd waited at before, Aditi had walked a thousand circles, if only because walking in places felt less like inertia.
She found a house she had not been in before, and she knew she hadn't been because of the corpse that laid inside. She couldn't hazard a guess at the identity, but the flies that swarmed around its head told her all she needed to know. The stench too, actually, but the smell had been omnipresent as of late. She just hadn't realized what it was until that moment.
She thought she would have had a stronger reaction to seeing her first body. Screaming, shell shocked silence, fight or flight response. But the first thing that came to her mind was this is where we all end up. If this plan didn't succeed, if the terrorists saw past their gambit and exploded their collars, this is where they'd end up. Corpses and stories, from living figures to abstractions retold by other people, distorted and deified and demonized until the idea was something separate from the person it was based on. It was not shrieking terror, but an idle horror, a quiet dread that crept into Aditi's mind at the sight of this corpse. If their plan failed, they would be left to this.
If they didn't do their plan at all, they would be left to this.
The possibility of walking away had briefly occurred to Aditi. If she walked away, there'd be no risk of the terrorists ending their lives right then and there, they could plan a few more days, iron out any kinks. The inactivity of the past few days, the time she had spent alone with Charelle, it beckoned to her. But, whether or not they waited it out, ironed out all possible kinks, the game would come to them at some point. And the result would be the same for all but one.
The moon above barely lit up the area, leaving the distance covered in darkness. She considered the permanence of the dark, and it terrified her. There had been some truth in Aditi's fake manifesto. She didn't have any intentions on dying. But, to live by submitting to the terrorist's will, by allowing the people that robbed her life to dictate what she did with it, it was against everything she stood for.
If the plan failed, they died. If they didn't go through with the plan, they died. The odds told her that the lighter in her hand was the only way out.
And so she followed.
She walked past the corpse and found an empty dufflebag, a discarded weapon manual. A survival guide, too. Propaganda. This would do.
She collected the materials, and walked back to the yellow house, lighter in hand.
Sleep sleep sleep. Stay calm calm calm. Breathe in, breathe out. Charelle repeated whatever dumb mantras came to her head as she waiting. Steppo-Dad had once tried to teach her about meditation once, a long time ago; she'd lasted about three minutes. Now she was trying to remember whatever she could. It wasn't working too great. No matter how much she tried to clear her mind, her thoughts kept coming back to that bad place. She kept thinking about Mikki, and Demetri, and Adele, and Felix and Yuko and Cheri and all the rest of them. And Forrest, who was still alive, somewhere, for however long...
And she kept thinking about the plan, too. They'd finalized it all, dotted the T's and crossed the eyes, a day before. There was no point going over it again and again in her mind, Charelle thought, that would be a pointless waste of energy. But then of course she went over it again and again in her mind anyway. She'd staked out the house, She knew her exit route - a window so big and so close to the ground that even Charelle would be able to climb out. Now all she had to do was pretend to sleep until she smelt the smoke. Simple. The first real step of her brilliant crusade to dab on the terrorists. It'd be easy - if they didn't blow her head up, anyway.
Yeah...
Damn Aditi was taking a long time.
And she kept thinking about the plan, too. They'd finalized it all, dotted the T's and crossed the eyes, a day before. There was no point going over it again and again in her mind, Charelle thought, that would be a pointless waste of energy. But then of course she went over it again and again in her mind anyway. She'd staked out the house, She knew her exit route - a window so big and so close to the ground that even Charelle would be able to climb out. Now all she had to do was pretend to sleep until she smelt the smoke. Simple. The first real step of her brilliant crusade to dab on the terrorists. It'd be easy - if they didn't blow her head up, anyway.
Yeah...
Damn Aditi was taking a long time.
She arrived at the front threshold, and deposited the empty duffel bag, along with its contents. The piles at both entrances were halfway up her knee, sufficient enough to block escape through those doors.
Aditi wished she could say some words to Charelle. Something poetic like, 'Good luck.' 'See you on the other side.' She wasn't one for theatrics, but it felt appropriate now, at the final step of this plan. They were on the precipice of something, she felt. But, to say those words would be to give the game away, so Aditi could only hope that Charelle understood how much she appreciated her presence, her loyalty.
She had five bottles of tincture in her bag, and five lighters. She decided to start at the front, as the back door was right next to Charelle's bedroom. Charelle needed adequate time to escape, after all.
There was a lingering worry in the back of her mind that maybe some of the planks she'd gotten were wet in the middle, that maybe she hadn't checked hard enough. Maybe the rest of the debris had become wet, too, and their plans would fizzle out like that. But, there was only one way to find that out, anyways.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and opened the first bottle of tincture, poured it in a line right in front of the pile. She did the same with the second and third bottles, and then she opened the first two lighters with a rusty push pin she'd found in one of the houses. The butane inside both lighters joined the rest of the tincture of benzoin. This procedure was repeated at the back entrance with the rest of the bottles and two of the other lighters.
There was one last step, after all this. Aditi crouched in front of the front pile, final lighter in hand. Her hands felt wet, and she couldn't tell if it was sweat or lighter fluid that covered them. Burns, even if they were just first or second degree, were fatal in this environment, what with the lack of medical care available and the constant risk of infection. But, again, if she didn't proceed, they died anyways.
She crouched for a minute, immobile, summoning the will to push forward.
And then the lighter sparked.
Aditi jumped back immediately as the fire roared. And then she laughed. The flames caught immediately onto the planks and began to spread. After laying back for five seconds, she stood up as the heat became almost unbearable. She ran to the back threshold, and did the same thing. Her hand lit on fire for a few seconds, but she shook it off. She wondered for a second if that had resulted in any wounds, but in any case, she couldn't feel anything but thrill. It was happening, right now.
She ran back to a house facing the window, and waited for the house to be engulfed.
Aditi wished she could say some words to Charelle. Something poetic like, 'Good luck.' 'See you on the other side.' She wasn't one for theatrics, but it felt appropriate now, at the final step of this plan. They were on the precipice of something, she felt. But, to say those words would be to give the game away, so Aditi could only hope that Charelle understood how much she appreciated her presence, her loyalty.
She had five bottles of tincture in her bag, and five lighters. She decided to start at the front, as the back door was right next to Charelle's bedroom. Charelle needed adequate time to escape, after all.
There was a lingering worry in the back of her mind that maybe some of the planks she'd gotten were wet in the middle, that maybe she hadn't checked hard enough. Maybe the rest of the debris had become wet, too, and their plans would fizzle out like that. But, there was only one way to find that out, anyways.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and opened the first bottle of tincture, poured it in a line right in front of the pile. She did the same with the second and third bottles, and then she opened the first two lighters with a rusty push pin she'd found in one of the houses. The butane inside both lighters joined the rest of the tincture of benzoin. This procedure was repeated at the back entrance with the rest of the bottles and two of the other lighters.
There was one last step, after all this. Aditi crouched in front of the front pile, final lighter in hand. Her hands felt wet, and she couldn't tell if it was sweat or lighter fluid that covered them. Burns, even if they were just first or second degree, were fatal in this environment, what with the lack of medical care available and the constant risk of infection. But, again, if she didn't proceed, they died anyways.
She crouched for a minute, immobile, summoning the will to push forward.
And then the lighter sparked.
Aditi jumped back immediately as the fire roared. And then she laughed. The flames caught immediately onto the planks and began to spread. After laying back for five seconds, she stood up as the heat became almost unbearable. She ran to the back threshold, and did the same thing. Her hand lit on fire for a few seconds, but she shook it off. She wondered for a second if that had resulted in any wounds, but in any case, she couldn't feel anything but thrill. It was happening, right now.
She ran back to a house facing the window, and waited for the house to be engulfed.
Charelle lied there. It felt like an eternity. Then she finally caught it. The bitter smell, faint at first, but growing. A surge of panic ran through her - the instinctual fear for her life that naturally came with the realization that she was chlling out in a fucking burning building. She had to suppress it. It wouldn't make sense for her to spring out of bed and yeet herself out the window the second she got the scent. That would be unrealistic. So, for a few minutes, Charelle did nothing. Every instinct was screaming to GTFO, but she had to bottle it all up and just chill there like the Gunshow dog. The smell grew more prevalent, and she felt the heat, and- oh fuck it, she was getting out.
Charelle pretended to wake up and put a few seconds into acting like she was groggily trying to figure out what was going on. When that shit was out of the way, she was free to act as panicky as she felt. Charelle threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. Not the best decision - she put too much force on her bad leg and went crashing to the floor. Urgh, well at least she was still being convincing.
Charelle pulled herself up, putting her weight on her good leg. Whatever bruises she got could wait. Charelle hobbled over to the window, grabbed the bottom of the frame, and threw it open... except, wait. It wasn't open.
The window frame had stopped partway up. There was only a little opening - big enough to get her arms through, but not her whole body. The hell, this had worked before. Charelle chuckled at herself, getting nervous. This was a real nail biter, huh? Everything going according to plan, then at the last minute, Charelle dying because of a shitty window. Heh heh.
Oh shit.
Charelle put all her strength into trying to push the window up. It wasn't budging.
Charelle pretended to wake up and put a few seconds into acting like she was groggily trying to figure out what was going on. When that shit was out of the way, she was free to act as panicky as she felt. Charelle threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. Not the best decision - she put too much force on her bad leg and went crashing to the floor. Urgh, well at least she was still being convincing.
Charelle pulled herself up, putting her weight on her good leg. Whatever bruises she got could wait. Charelle hobbled over to the window, grabbed the bottom of the frame, and threw it open... except, wait. It wasn't open.
The window frame had stopped partway up. There was only a little opening - big enough to get her arms through, but not her whole body. The hell, this had worked before. Charelle chuckled at herself, getting nervous. This was a real nail biter, huh? Everything going according to plan, then at the last minute, Charelle dying because of a shitty window. Heh heh.
Oh shit.
Charelle put all her strength into trying to push the window up. It wasn't budging.
The first minute had been fine. The flames were confined to the kitchen area bookended by the doors, the glow limited to the right side of the house. Maybe Charelle was just playing up the gambit, really making it look like she was sleeping. It was fine, there was time.
The second minute, Aditi started scratching at the mosquito bites on her thigh again, started rocking her leg up and down. A nervous habit. The fire glowed intense, the sidings of the roof were starting to catch on fire.
The third minute, she felt sweat dripping down her neck. She couldn't tell if it was left over from the humid air, or if it was radiating from the fire. Or, maybe it was related to the tapping of her fingers against the window, how she wanted to mutter under her breath 'Come on, get out now,' but couldn't. Part of Aditi wondered if Charelle had actually fallen asleep. But she couldn't be that stupid, right?
At the fourth minute, she finally caught a glimpse of hands against the window, but the window stopped. Arms dangled out, then retreated. They then pushed against the window, but the glass resisted.
The glass resisted.
They had tested this before the window had worked just fine before this wasn't supposed to happen
She thought she could see licks of orange behind the window.
Aditi's eyes widened, her nails dug into the bites. It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming.
The second minute, Aditi started scratching at the mosquito bites on her thigh again, started rocking her leg up and down. A nervous habit. The fire glowed intense, the sidings of the roof were starting to catch on fire.
The third minute, she felt sweat dripping down her neck. She couldn't tell if it was left over from the humid air, or if it was radiating from the fire. Or, maybe it was related to the tapping of her fingers against the window, how she wanted to mutter under her breath 'Come on, get out now,' but couldn't. Part of Aditi wondered if Charelle had actually fallen asleep. But she couldn't be that stupid, right?
At the fourth minute, she finally caught a glimpse of hands against the window, but the window stopped. Arms dangled out, then retreated. They then pushed against the window, but the glass resisted.
The glass resisted.
They had tested this before the window had worked just fine before this wasn't supposed to happen
She thought she could see licks of orange behind the window.
Aditi's eyes widened, her nails dug into the bites. It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming.
Charelle pushed and pushed, but nothing happened. Holy fuck, this was really happening. Charelle was actually gonna burn to death trying to get one over on the terrorists. She'd known she was going to die since the moment she woke up. She wasn't gonna kill anyone, come on. She'd made peace with it - or, she thought she had. Right now, it was hard to remember.
At least she was going down while memeing all over the terrorists, right? That's what she'd wanted the whole- oh fuck no she didn't want to die.
Charelle threw her fist at the window, hoping against hope that maybe she could break it. all she got for her trouble was a tiny crack and a sharp pain in her wrist. She cradled her hand, holding back tears. Okay, this wasn't working, clearly. There had to be some other way to get out, right? Something they'd missed.
Charelle gave up on the window and opened the bedroom door. The smoke hit her, made her throat burn and her eyes water. She was surprised at how thick it was. And the heat, it was unbearable. The house wasn't supposed to go up this fast... it had just rained the day before. Aditi said it would take longer.
Charelle hobbled through the door, covering her mouth and trying to find her way through the smoke. There were other windows. Maybe- maybe she could find one that would work.
At least she was going down while memeing all over the terrorists, right? That's what she'd wanted the whole- oh fuck no she didn't want to die.
Charelle threw her fist at the window, hoping against hope that maybe she could break it. all she got for her trouble was a tiny crack and a sharp pain in her wrist. She cradled her hand, holding back tears. Okay, this wasn't working, clearly. There had to be some other way to get out, right? Something they'd missed.
Charelle gave up on the window and opened the bedroom door. The smoke hit her, made her throat burn and her eyes water. She was surprised at how thick it was. And the heat, it was unbearable. The house wasn't supposed to go up this fast... it had just rained the day before. Aditi said it would take longer.
Charelle hobbled through the door, covering her mouth and trying to find her way through the smoke. There were other windows. Maybe- maybe she could find one that would work.
They had tested the window, before. It had opened just fine, it had provided enough of an opening to allow for escape, before. They had pretended to play around with it, pretended to have fun jumping out of windows, running around the house. They had made sure of things.
But, they should've checked the window more. Put some oil in its hinges, opened and closed the windows a few more times. Or, they should've chosen another house, a house with windows that weren't fucking rusted shut. They hadn't done enough, she hadn't done enough, Aditi hadn't made sure of the details, and now
A hand banged against the window, begged for escape. A crack appeared in the glass, but nothing more.
"Get out," Aditi didn't say. "Hurry up," Aditi couldn't say. "Save yourself," Aditi couldn't yell.
If Aditi ran over, tried to put out the flames, the terrorists would know. Their collars would explode, both of them would die. If Aditi tried to break the glass herself, pull Charelle out, the terrorists would know. If Aditi screamed, yelled at Charelle to break the glass, get out, do something, the terrorists would know.
Aditi had assigned herself the role of a remorseless killer, for the meantime. She had told the terrorists that she had every intention of killing Charelle this way, and so she had to live up to her promise, or else.
Let the glass break, she prayed silently. Let the window budge, she begged. Don't let this happen, don't let this happen, don't let this happen, don't let this happ
The arms retreated from the glass, she saw a silhouette retreat into the bedroom door, towards the flames. The gods hadn't listened.
She bit on her tongue, dug the nails into her thigh, drew blood.
She stared at the fire, tears flowed from her eyes without a sound, whites visible above her pupils. The light seared itself into her eyes, it would never leave.
But, they should've checked the window more. Put some oil in its hinges, opened and closed the windows a few more times. Or, they should've chosen another house, a house with windows that weren't fucking rusted shut. They hadn't done enough, she hadn't done enough, Aditi hadn't made sure of the details, and now
A hand banged against the window, begged for escape. A crack appeared in the glass, but nothing more.
"Get out," Aditi didn't say. "Hurry up," Aditi couldn't say. "Save yourself," Aditi couldn't yell.
If Aditi ran over, tried to put out the flames, the terrorists would know. Their collars would explode, both of them would die. If Aditi tried to break the glass herself, pull Charelle out, the terrorists would know. If Aditi screamed, yelled at Charelle to break the glass, get out, do something, the terrorists would know.
Aditi had assigned herself the role of a remorseless killer, for the meantime. She had told the terrorists that she had every intention of killing Charelle this way, and so she had to live up to her promise, or else.
Let the glass break, she prayed silently. Let the window budge, she begged. Don't let this happen, don't let this happen, don't let this happen, don't let this happ
The arms retreated from the glass, she saw a silhouette retreat into the bedroom door, towards the flames. The gods hadn't listened.
She bit on her tongue, dug the nails into her thigh, drew blood.
She stared at the fire, tears flowed from her eyes without a sound, whites visible above her pupils. The light seared itself into her eyes, it would never leave.
Everything was gray. It was impossible to see through the smoke - well, almost impossible. She could see the bright orange flames at either end of the house. The flames twisted in every direction and caught whatever they touched, expanding ever larger. Charelle felt like she was right inside an oven, but she pressed forward. There was another medium-sized window on the other side of the house, she remembered. They had decided that it wouldn't be big enough for her to go through. But what else was she supposed to do, now?
She tried to hold her breath as much as possible, but every time she took a little breath it felt like her chest was burning, like the fire was just waiting for its chance to push through her throat and into her lungs and burn her from inside out. A few times, the feeling was so strong that she was forced to stop and go into a coughing fit. By the time she got to the window, Charelle's head was throbbing, and she felt dizzy. The heat hardly even registered anymore.
Charelle grabbed onto the window sill, only to have a searing pain go through her hands. She backed up, looking at her palms. Through the gray fog she couldn't make out much detail, but she thought she saw the skin reddening and twisting. Charelle took another step back, but tripped over herself. Next thing she knew, she was on the ground, and her head felt like it would split in two. She couldn't focus on anything anymore. She couldn't dwell on her failed plans nor the memories of her friends. She couldn't even think of one last stupid joke. There was just the smoke, the around her and inside of her lungs and head. And the orange glow, coming closer and closer...
Charelle Chernyshyova was already completely out of it by the time the smoke did her in. Since she was, y'know, dead, she wasn't able to see the flames burn her body to a smoldering crisp, nor was she around to witness the roof collapsing, covering her remains in rubble. If she had been, through science or meme magic, able to witness her own death and its aftermath with perfect clarity, she probably would have said
F
She tried to hold her breath as much as possible, but every time she took a little breath it felt like her chest was burning, like the fire was just waiting for its chance to push through her throat and into her lungs and burn her from inside out. A few times, the feeling was so strong that she was forced to stop and go into a coughing fit. By the time she got to the window, Charelle's head was throbbing, and she felt dizzy. The heat hardly even registered anymore.
Charelle grabbed onto the window sill, only to have a searing pain go through her hands. She backed up, looking at her palms. Through the gray fog she couldn't make out much detail, but she thought she saw the skin reddening and twisting. Charelle took another step back, but tripped over herself. Next thing she knew, she was on the ground, and her head felt like it would split in two. She couldn't focus on anything anymore. She couldn't dwell on her failed plans nor the memories of her friends. She couldn't even think of one last stupid joke. There was just the smoke, the around her and inside of her lungs and head. And the orange glow, coming closer and closer...
Charelle Chernyshyova was already completely out of it by the time the smoke did her in. Since she was, y'know, dead, she wasn't able to see the flames burn her body to a smoldering crisp, nor was she around to witness the roof collapsing, covering her remains in rubble. If she had been, through science or meme magic, able to witness her own death and its aftermath with perfect clarity, she probably would have said
F
When Aditi had agreed to be the one to light the flame, it was not out of some principled stand to live or die by the plans she made, nor was it out of some need to hold herself accountable. It was simply because she trusted herself, and only herself, to execute the plan without failure. Sakurako and Thomas and Sean had made great allies, but she would've been damned if she let a mistake on their parts end everything she'd worked towards. Aditi knew how the plan worked, she knew her own capabilities, so the plan wouldn't fail under her, right?
It had been hubris to assume that this was the plan, rather than a first attempt, a first experiment. In her hubris, she'd volunteered herself as a guinea pig, rather than letting someone else from the group do what Charelle had done. In her hubris, she'd assumed this was the only plan available. They could've regrouped had this failed under different people, they could've gone back to the drawing board.
And it had been hubris to assume that she was infallible.
The silhouette stumbled, fell into the flames, and so ended Charelle. Aditi had done exactly what she'd intended, according to those watching the feeds.
She had fallen right into their trap. And she could not scream or cry about it, because the terrorists would know. So, she continued to let the glare of her fire imprint in her retinas, so that she could see what she had done even when she closed her eyes. Lot's wife, bearing witness.
In the back of her mind, she wondered what exactly she would say to the others when she got to the cliffs, where the others awaited. She knew she couldn't simply lie about it, but she didn't know how to face them, how to explain that she had killed one of their own, that Charelle was dead because of her. She didn't even know if she could face them. Part of her wished she didn't have to.
And so the collar beeped.
It had been hubris to assume that this was the plan, rather than a first attempt, a first experiment. In her hubris, she'd volunteered herself as a guinea pig, rather than letting someone else from the group do what Charelle had done. In her hubris, she'd assumed this was the only plan available. They could've regrouped had this failed under different people, they could've gone back to the drawing board.
And it had been hubris to assume that she was infallible.
The silhouette stumbled, fell into the flames, and so ended Charelle. Aditi had done exactly what she'd intended, according to those watching the feeds.
She had fallen right into their trap. And she could not scream or cry about it, because the terrorists would know. So, she continued to let the glare of her fire imprint in her retinas, so that she could see what she had done even when she closed her eyes. Lot's wife, bearing witness.
In the back of her mind, she wondered what exactly she would say to the others when she got to the cliffs, where the others awaited. She knew she couldn't simply lie about it, but she didn't know how to face them, how to explain that she had killed one of their own, that Charelle was dead because of her. She didn't even know if she could face them. Part of her wished she didn't have to.
And so the collar beeped.
She blinked, at first, in disbelief. Looked around, as if the sound could have come from anywhere else. Then, it finally set in.
A camera looked at her, perched in the corner of a ceiling. She walked towards it.
"I did what I said I'd do, right? Aren't you fucking satisfied?"
The collar continued beeping.
"There's a dead person currently inside that house. Isn't that the point of all this?
No other response.
"What, so you have to kill people certain ways just because you're scared of a little fire? What's next, you ban guns cause you can shoot cameras with them? You ban baseball bats because you can smash cameras with them?"
Nothing. After a few more seconds, a stunned laughter emanated from Aditi's throat, before morphing into a long, pained scream.
They knew. The terrorists saw right through her, and now all of this was for nothing. Charelle would die for nothing, Aditi would die for nothing, everyone would die for nothing.
And,
she'd die with the world, with her family thinking she was a murderer.
"This— This, this wasn't supposed to happen! I didn't mean for this to happen! I- I I I fucked up! I fucked up! Pāṭṭi, Ma, Pa, Jay, yo- you have to understand! This wasn't supposed to happen, I was supposed to—"
The beeping reached a crescendo, transitioned to a screeching, relentless buzz.
When Aditi had revealed her manifesto to the group, she had revealed her hopes, her goals for this plan. Obviously, that they escape, but also, that if they didn't, they provide the tools, the rules necessary for the next generation to break the game. She hadn't meant those words. She had told herself in the beginning not to delude herself, not to get her hopes up, but she had, she hadn't prepared for anything other than success, and here she was. She had just said those words to cover her bases, but now she had to mean what she said.
She had set out on this path with the goal of making it just that much harder for the terrorists to run this game. A wrench in the works, repayment for taking everything from her. She had failed, that much was clear, and now they left her with mere seconds to work with, so she intended to use them.
"I was supposed to do this."
She rummaged through her bag and got her gun. A pop followed, the camera broke. She leveled the gun against her temple, but before she could pull the trigger, a boom sounded.
From the kitchen of the house, a camera captured a spray of red mist coating the corner opposite Aditi. She fell, lifeless, and the game continued.
G075: ADITI SHARMA: ELIMINATED
87 STUDENTS REMAIN
A camera looked at her, perched in the corner of a ceiling. She walked towards it.
"I did what I said I'd do, right? Aren't you fucking satisfied?"
The collar continued beeping.
"There's a dead person currently inside that house. Isn't that the point of all this?
No other response.
"What, so you have to kill people certain ways just because you're scared of a little fire? What's next, you ban guns cause you can shoot cameras with them? You ban baseball bats because you can smash cameras with them?"
Nothing. After a few more seconds, a stunned laughter emanated from Aditi's throat, before morphing into a long, pained scream.
They knew. The terrorists saw right through her, and now all of this was for nothing. Charelle would die for nothing, Aditi would die for nothing, everyone would die for nothing.
And,
she'd die with the world, with her family thinking she was a murderer.
"This— This, this wasn't supposed to happen! I didn't mean for this to happen! I- I I I fucked up! I fucked up! Pāṭṭi, Ma, Pa, Jay, yo- you have to understand! This wasn't supposed to happen, I was supposed to—"
The beeping reached a crescendo, transitioned to a screeching, relentless buzz.
When Aditi had revealed her manifesto to the group, she had revealed her hopes, her goals for this plan. Obviously, that they escape, but also, that if they didn't, they provide the tools, the rules necessary for the next generation to break the game. She hadn't meant those words. She had told herself in the beginning not to delude herself, not to get her hopes up, but she had, she hadn't prepared for anything other than success, and here she was. She had just said those words to cover her bases, but now she had to mean what she said.
She had set out on this path with the goal of making it just that much harder for the terrorists to run this game. A wrench in the works, repayment for taking everything from her. She had failed, that much was clear, and now they left her with mere seconds to work with, so she intended to use them.
"I was supposed to do this."
She rummaged through her bag and got her gun. A pop followed, the camera broke. She leveled the gun against her temple, but before she could pull the trigger, a boom sounded.
From the kitchen of the house, a camera captured a spray of red mist coating the corner opposite Aditi. She fell, lifeless, and the game continued.
G075: ADITI SHARMA: ELIMINATED
87 STUDENTS REMAIN