Upping the Odds

[Courtography]

(Louis Johnson continued from Drive)

He had decided to leave the officer's quarters behind completely. He didn't feel like exploring the rest of the building and finding Henry's body no doubt. Not to mention Brett had shown up, and once he had shown up who knew how many other people would come.

He had simply wandered a little ways, going to the nearby mess hall. He had no clue where else he should have gone. He had no leads on his classmates or where he could even find a weapon.

The area of the hall where he was seemed empty. Simply rows of tables and chairs. No one seemed to be around, he had been lucky again. No one was around. Perfect. Still, this time he might want to keep moving, he had only stayed for a short while in the library before Brett showed up.

He walked to another row looking down it. Wait. What was that lump on the floor? He moved closer, the bright red standing out. Dried blood. He felt a bit sick, it may have been almost a day into the Program but he had avoided bodies for the most part, having only seen Harris's. He looked closer, he needed to know who it was. Vaughn. So this was where he had died, so long ago, no not so long, only what at most, twelve hours? It felt like longer.

Most of his friends were dying off, it was only natural he would come across one of their corpses eventually. Still, a more practical thought come over. Where were his supplies? The announcement had said Vaughn and Chanel had killed each other. Bags had to be around, and a weapon. He needed a weapon.

There it was, a green duffel bag. He opened it, it was nearly full with its starting supplies. It was time to loot it, he took the food rations and water bottles. He hadn't eaten much food, but water was a concern.

Now where was the weapon? After a few moments of searching he found it amidst the red. A box cutter. It might not compete with Brett's Stoner 63, but it was a start. Now he wouldn't be completely defenseless, he could at least defend himself, or hunt down his friend's killers. He still hadn't made up his mind about that one, but maybe if he encountered them he would.

He held the cutter in his hand. He could figure out an easier way of carrying it later without looking like he was going to constantly cut someone.

He looked back at the corpse of his former friend and left. Bye Vaughn.

(Louis Johnson continued in The Opening Faceoff)