She hadn't slept well last night. The announcement had woken her at the same time as always, but Nate wasn't sleeping restfully, or for long enough, or for some other reason but she was fatigued. She had a dull headache, and she was groggy.
She'd lost Kitty, apparently, after leaving the danger zone. The knife had been left too; she'd slept with it next to her, afraid to stab herself through her pocket, but she'd left it behind. A pity, but not much of one. Nate would probably never need it.
The ravine was not where she'd expected to arrive after wandering all morning and afternoon. Had she made one long circle? The map said yes. The ravine to the woods, through the tunnels, into the cabin, down to the warehouse, past the ruins, and by the shower and now she was back. How many days? Five? That seemed right.
The cliff face was stark, the air cool and damp. Nate's hood was up as she huddle a few feet away from the edge, seated in a fetal position. It was spooky, dark, cold, and unsettling. She was paranoid now of being watched at all times. She rubbed her eyes and turned around, a habit of watching her back.
Nothing behind, nothing in front. A metaphor for her life, in a way. Whatever she had done didn't matter. But she had nowhere to go.
Was it possible she'd make it home? Theoretically. Probably? No, she wouldn't. She'd need to kill someone, right? She couldn't do that, of course. There were tons of people who must've thought just one kill was all it took. Then they kept going. Absurd.
She saw something. There was a weird shape at the bottom of the ravine. A triangle, or a cross. No, wait. No way. Nate stood up and leaned slightly closer. The pickaxe was there, nestled on the far side of the ravine, barely above water in the lowest of tides.
Crazy. Absolutely crazy. Nate smiled, a little maniacally, and stepped back suddenly out of a rush of fear. The thing was crazy heavy, she knew from experience. Still, she hadn't expected it to stay. She was a little farther down, closer to the sea, but still. It had barely moved.
She'd had purpose when she'd thrown it into the ocean. What had she planned to do? Prove a point? It had failed, clearly. More were dead than not, and several people were actively hunting and murdering. It was a successful test, so far.
The last time, all the killers died except one. Same here. Who would survive? KK, Saachi, Bunny? Someone else, biding their time? Did it matter?
Nate stepped towards the ravine. It wasn't so bad, actually. The faint sound of the sea, the slate-colored sky, the cool wind. It was eerie, sure, but beautiful. Like a painting of another place, another time.
Maybe if she got to the bottom, she could grab the pickaxe. Why? Just because, maybe. She'd never be able to carry it back, but just to touch it, as if to prove her own point. She wasn't a murderer, but she could do stuff. That was why.
Setting her bag a safe distance away from the edge, Nate carefully stepped down and started climbing. The rocks were jagged and uneven, spaced too far apart to make much of a stairway. Nate took a step down, flinched, and pulled back. On her hands and knees, she lowered her leg into open air, gritting her teeth until she felt solid stone beneath her shoe. She put weight down, and started moving to lower the next foot.
The cliff face crumbled, and the rock fell from under her, heralding her own descent into the abyss.
G01: Nate Chauncey
DECEASED
29 Students Remaining
DECEASED
29 Students Remaining