"Fear is hardly an issue anymore..." He said hotly, his aim dropping somewhat. As he pushed himself onto his feet, picking up the hacksaw as he limped back toward the counter. Placing both weapons down, as he pushed himself up and onto the counter, sitting down on it as he lightly watched Alan from his preched spot.
"So," he began, licking at his lips again this time at the blood that had tailed down along there. Brown, and blue eyes focusing onto Alan once again. "What brings you here?"
Hospital encounter
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"Decided to try using this place as a place to think up what to do during this act. The guy outside is named Adam, he joined up with me thinking I wanted out. I was going to use this hospital to make plans, pretending to try to find a way off, but we both know the only way off is to be the winner. " Alan said, looking at the bleed ing Hawley.
"When I fought you, I was defending myself, since you shoved that gun in my face. I believe that I can safely let my ally in here?" Alan asked Hawley, never taking his eyes off the man he had been fighting seconds before.
"When I fought you, I was defending myself, since you shoved that gun in my face. I believe that I can safely let my ally in here?" Alan asked Hawley, never taking his eyes off the man he had been fighting seconds before.
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As Adam crouched in the thicket, he was reminded of events a year prior...
It had been back when he worked at the hospital. A non-paying job, but it was a way that he felt that he could give back to his community, along with getting those dreaded mandatory hours of community service out of the way. It had been like any other day, sitting around the front desk, waiting for someone to call with an errand to run off to. It wasn't a bad arrangement, and it was enjoyable to say the least. One encounter had left him with somewhat of a churned stomach, and it vividly came back to him in waves.
It had been a relatively normal shift, all things considered, and Adam was transporting a specimen (basically a test tube of blood in a plastic bag) down to the laboratory for processing. As he had stepped onto the hospital elevator after coming out of the fourth floor, he had heard one of the orderlies call for him to hold the door. He recognized the man; a heavily tatooed man named Stu. He was friendly with all of the volunteers, and grinned as he wheeled a large cart into the elevator, obscured by a white sheet. Adam payed it no heed, but as the elevator slowly rumbled down to the basement, he noticed a rather pungeant auroma beginning to waft its way around the elevator. It reminded him of sour lemons, and the smell was somewhere inbetween rotten eggs and a juicy fart on the pleasantry scale.
"What's that smell? That's gross."
Stu the orderly chuckled again. "What d'you think it is, bro?"
Adam shrugged, and Stu just laughed. The short elevator ride came to an end, and Stu rolled the cart out from the elevator and down the hall. Adam stepped out onto the dimly lit basement floor, and looked down the hall. He wondered what it could have been...as he strode to the lab to deposit the specimen, the possibilities flooded his head. Mouldy food? Feces samples? As he exited the lab, he couldn't help but try and recall: what was down that hallway?
There were the other set of elevators, health records, the morgue....
The morgue.
That was it. It had to be. Adam's stomach churned as he slowly came to the realization that he had shared an elevator with a corpse.
The realization hit Adam in the present like a ton of bricks. The smell did seem a little like sour lemons, with perhaps some rotten fish thrown in for good measure. Could those smells be one and the same? The sensory recall from a year ago was just not as good as he hoped it would be, but that kind of smell was one that you just don't forget...
...Adam looked to his right, and finally noticed the small trickle of red that seemed to be bleeding out of the bush beside him. His mouth gaped a little, and he hesitated. He had to know.
Moving the bush aside, he quickly found himself staring into the dead eyes of the late Helena Van Garret. The bitch queen of the school. Adam had only passibly remembered the announcement, still reeling from the shock of being gassed in the first place.
Fuck...
He remembered Helena. Not altogether fondly, as she was quite the super-bitch, as far as things went. Yet she was quite good looking, and had never said a bad word to Adam, as far as he could remember. And to see her, like this...dead...
He stared into her dead eyes, almost as if he were trying to pry the secrets out from within.
Wow, so that's what it's like.
Something opened up inside of Adam Dodd, something that changed him. It wasn't a change for the negative, nor was it really a change for the positive. It was just simply change. The urge and pure need to SURVIVE.
Respect the dead...
Adam closed her eyes with his right hand, balancing himself with the pistol in his left.
Alan...
"SHIT!" Adam hissed to himself. He had completely forgotten about Alan and his attempt to gain access to the hospital. Springing back to his original position, he looked quickly around the hospital. The door stood open, and he could see a red substance sticking in flecks around the door. Was Alan...dead? He hadn't heard any gunshots but, let's be honest he thought, there's more than one way to skin a cat...or to kill a man.
Looking over at the hospital, he was shocked to see a lone figure sitting on what appeared to be a bench. It didn't appear to be Alan.
Shoot him...save yourself...
Adam stood up, and decided that would be exactly what he planned to do. Extending both arms into a firing position, he aimed at the figure sitting on the bench. Carefully, as so not to disrupt his aim, he squeezed the trigger.
The recoil surpised him a lot more than he anticipated it to, and as such he dropped to the ground without even looking to see if he'd hit anything...
It had been back when he worked at the hospital. A non-paying job, but it was a way that he felt that he could give back to his community, along with getting those dreaded mandatory hours of community service out of the way. It had been like any other day, sitting around the front desk, waiting for someone to call with an errand to run off to. It wasn't a bad arrangement, and it was enjoyable to say the least. One encounter had left him with somewhat of a churned stomach, and it vividly came back to him in waves.
It had been a relatively normal shift, all things considered, and Adam was transporting a specimen (basically a test tube of blood in a plastic bag) down to the laboratory for processing. As he had stepped onto the hospital elevator after coming out of the fourth floor, he had heard one of the orderlies call for him to hold the door. He recognized the man; a heavily tatooed man named Stu. He was friendly with all of the volunteers, and grinned as he wheeled a large cart into the elevator, obscured by a white sheet. Adam payed it no heed, but as the elevator slowly rumbled down to the basement, he noticed a rather pungeant auroma beginning to waft its way around the elevator. It reminded him of sour lemons, and the smell was somewhere inbetween rotten eggs and a juicy fart on the pleasantry scale.
"What's that smell? That's gross."
Stu the orderly chuckled again. "What d'you think it is, bro?"
Adam shrugged, and Stu just laughed. The short elevator ride came to an end, and Stu rolled the cart out from the elevator and down the hall. Adam stepped out onto the dimly lit basement floor, and looked down the hall. He wondered what it could have been...as he strode to the lab to deposit the specimen, the possibilities flooded his head. Mouldy food? Feces samples? As he exited the lab, he couldn't help but try and recall: what was down that hallway?
There were the other set of elevators, health records, the morgue....
The morgue.
That was it. It had to be. Adam's stomach churned as he slowly came to the realization that he had shared an elevator with a corpse.
The realization hit Adam in the present like a ton of bricks. The smell did seem a little like sour lemons, with perhaps some rotten fish thrown in for good measure. Could those smells be one and the same? The sensory recall from a year ago was just not as good as he hoped it would be, but that kind of smell was one that you just don't forget...
...Adam looked to his right, and finally noticed the small trickle of red that seemed to be bleeding out of the bush beside him. His mouth gaped a little, and he hesitated. He had to know.
Moving the bush aside, he quickly found himself staring into the dead eyes of the late Helena Van Garret. The bitch queen of the school. Adam had only passibly remembered the announcement, still reeling from the shock of being gassed in the first place.
Fuck...
He remembered Helena. Not altogether fondly, as she was quite the super-bitch, as far as things went. Yet she was quite good looking, and had never said a bad word to Adam, as far as he could remember. And to see her, like this...dead...
He stared into her dead eyes, almost as if he were trying to pry the secrets out from within.
Wow, so that's what it's like.
Something opened up inside of Adam Dodd, something that changed him. It wasn't a change for the negative, nor was it really a change for the positive. It was just simply change. The urge and pure need to SURVIVE.
Respect the dead...
Adam closed her eyes with his right hand, balancing himself with the pistol in his left.
Alan...
"SHIT!" Adam hissed to himself. He had completely forgotten about Alan and his attempt to gain access to the hospital. Springing back to his original position, he looked quickly around the hospital. The door stood open, and he could see a red substance sticking in flecks around the door. Was Alan...dead? He hadn't heard any gunshots but, let's be honest he thought, there's more than one way to skin a cat...or to kill a man.
Looking over at the hospital, he was shocked to see a lone figure sitting on what appeared to be a bench. It didn't appear to be Alan.
Shoot him...save yourself...
Adam stood up, and decided that would be exactly what he planned to do. Extending both arms into a firing position, he aimed at the figure sitting on the bench. Carefully, as so not to disrupt his aim, he squeezed the trigger.
The recoil surpised him a lot more than he anticipated it to, and as such he dropped to the ground without even looking to see if he'd hit anything...
He smirked, "Glad to see not everyone on this bloody island is stupid." Hawley mused, shrugging his shoulders at Alan's next question. Adam? Hmm, that name didn't seem fimilar, then again he could have had a class with him. Only reason he knew Alan was because he had gotten accepted to take a higher social studies class instead of taking the normal ninth grade level class. "Let him on in."
Reaching over, he grasped ahold of Helena's shirt he had been using to clean his knee earilar. Pressing it against the bleeding wound on his head. "Only reason I shoved the gun in your face was because you put a hole in my door... already had enough problems with people trying to get in today. You two make number five, and six... though the other three where a bit more like target pratice than anything else. And one... well who cares about --"
His voice was cut off as a burning pain filled his arm, a hissing sound coming from his lips as he looked at the wound. It hadn't done anything bad... a bad scratch at the most. But damn did it hurt, "Fuck." Hawley laughed, sitting back some as he eyed the figure through the door, the smirk keeping to his lips. "This you're ally... one with the bad shot?"
Reaching over, he grasped ahold of Helena's shirt he had been using to clean his knee earilar. Pressing it against the bleeding wound on his head. "Only reason I shoved the gun in your face was because you put a hole in my door... already had enough problems with people trying to get in today. You two make number five, and six... though the other three where a bit more like target pratice than anything else. And one... well who cares about --"
His voice was cut off as a burning pain filled his arm, a hissing sound coming from his lips as he looked at the wound. It hadn't done anything bad... a bad scratch at the most. But damn did it hurt, "Fuck." Hawley laughed, sitting back some as he eyed the figure through the door, the smirk keeping to his lips. "This you're ally... one with the bad shot?"
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Alan had been so intent on his conversation with Hawley, that he didn't see Adam walk in wit his gun drawn. His concentration was broken by the crack of a gunshot. Dodging to the side, Alan turned around without checking if Hawley was alright.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Adam?! Yeah, Hawley, this is him."
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Adam?! Yeah, Hawley, this is him."
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Adam intently stared at Hawley, his gun still drawn. He spoke to Alan's question, although all the while he stared at Hawley.
"Sorry Alan. Saw some blood and figured he'd finished you off. Nothing against you, but after the little trophy I found outside I have my doubts about the sanity of good ol' Hawley here. I may be a nice guy, but I'm not stupid. Nobody's gonna put a knife in my back while I'm here. Yeah, it's a fucked up and shitty situation we're in, but we've got to make do. Try and find a way out, a way to screw with the system. Killing ourselves is just satisfying those pricks, those assholes out there who put us here in the first place."
Adam looked at Hawley and saw the place where the bullet had scratched his arm. Adam's poor aim was mainly a requisite of him having no prior experience with pistol-like firearms. He recalled shooting rifles with his father up at the cottage when he was younger, but never a pistol.
I shot a guy...
Hawley was a guy that he knew by reputation, but not to speak to him. Adam had always felt sorry for the scarred and pale boy, and after seeing him picked on day in and day out just tore the soul right out of him. He had often made attempts to stop some of the torturous bullying that the boy underwent, but often it was to no avail. Hawley didn't know it, but Adam's heart went out to him.
However, that was a different time, in a different place. Adam saw this, and was concerned, as he really didn't know what he would do next. He knew Hawley had killed once before, and probably wouldn't hesitate to kill again.
"Hawley...you killed Van Garret, didn't you?"
"Sorry Alan. Saw some blood and figured he'd finished you off. Nothing against you, but after the little trophy I found outside I have my doubts about the sanity of good ol' Hawley here. I may be a nice guy, but I'm not stupid. Nobody's gonna put a knife in my back while I'm here. Yeah, it's a fucked up and shitty situation we're in, but we've got to make do. Try and find a way out, a way to screw with the system. Killing ourselves is just satisfying those pricks, those assholes out there who put us here in the first place."
Adam looked at Hawley and saw the place where the bullet had scratched his arm. Adam's poor aim was mainly a requisite of him having no prior experience with pistol-like firearms. He recalled shooting rifles with his father up at the cottage when he was younger, but never a pistol.
I shot a guy...
Hawley was a guy that he knew by reputation, but not to speak to him. Adam had always felt sorry for the scarred and pale boy, and after seeing him picked on day in and day out just tore the soul right out of him. He had often made attempts to stop some of the torturous bullying that the boy underwent, but often it was to no avail. Hawley didn't know it, but Adam's heart went out to him.
However, that was a different time, in a different place. Adam saw this, and was concerned, as he really didn't know what he would do next. He knew Hawley had killed once before, and probably wouldn't hesitate to kill again.
"Hawley...you killed Van Garret, didn't you?"
"If you remember the announcement, they said he did ice that bitch," Alan said as he stared Adam down. " and I congratulate him. She was hot, but one major pain in the ass."
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Hawley listened lightly to the answer, and found himself laughing again as Adam questioned his state of sanity. He had to admit, since he had woken up he’d been questioning how long it would last. He figured the rope that kept his sanity connected still had a few connected strands left…
Seemed others didn’t think that though.
A somewhat dark memory passing through his mind, his father had taken him to the doctor’s to question about Hawley’s last suicide attempt… wondering if there was something affecting him in his mind besides it being those of the outside world.
He sat plainly on the cold table, hand reaching up to rub the bandages that covered his throat. It had been over three weeks since he had tried to slit his throat… it failing when one of his older brothers walked in on him, tackling him to the ground and ripping the knife from his hand.
“From the tests… we have reason to believe Hawley could be showing signs of schizophrenia.”
Great, now he was crazy. If his father had ever bothered to ask, he would have known that there wasn’t anything wrong in his head. It was the outside world that was pushing him off the edge…
As he heard Adam’s voice again, he lifted himself from thinking to eye the older boy. Smirking somewhat as he ran his free hand through his hair, smirk growing at Alan’s comment. “Found her body did you? Ah… I wasn’t trying to hard to hide it that well. But yes, if you haven’t guessed, I’m B22. Pleasure...”
Seemed others didn’t think that though.
A somewhat dark memory passing through his mind, his father had taken him to the doctor’s to question about Hawley’s last suicide attempt… wondering if there was something affecting him in his mind besides it being those of the outside world.
He sat plainly on the cold table, hand reaching up to rub the bandages that covered his throat. It had been over three weeks since he had tried to slit his throat… it failing when one of his older brothers walked in on him, tackling him to the ground and ripping the knife from his hand.
“From the tests… we have reason to believe Hawley could be showing signs of schizophrenia.”
Great, now he was crazy. If his father had ever bothered to ask, he would have known that there wasn’t anything wrong in his head. It was the outside world that was pushing him off the edge…
As he heard Adam’s voice again, he lifted himself from thinking to eye the older boy. Smirking somewhat as he ran his free hand through his hair, smirk growing at Alan’s comment. “Found her body did you? Ah… I wasn’t trying to hard to hide it that well. But yes, if you haven’t guessed, I’m B22. Pleasure...”
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"As long as we're talking numbers, I'm boy 3, and I don't know what Adam is." Alan said, his tone decreasing in ferocity.
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Adam dropped his guard temporarily and pulled his knapsack from over his shoulder, dropping it on the ground in front of him. There was his number, stencilled on the front of it.
"Apparently I'm boy number seventy-seven...jesus, how many people did they put in this godforsaken game?"
Adam paused for a second, a thought coming to him.
"Is this even a game...? It's like...Lord of the Flies, but with guns..."
"Apparently I'm boy number seventy-seven...jesus, how many people did they put in this godforsaken game?"
Adam paused for a second, a thought coming to him.
"Is this even a game...? It's like...Lord of the Flies, but with guns..."
"Lord of the Flies? Sorry, never read that." Alan said, slightly perplexed at Adam's comparison between SOTF and Lord of the Flies.
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Hawley glanced back off a Adam, before returning to lightly touching his arm wound. He having placed the bloodstained shirt of Helena's off to the side, twicthing in light pain as fingers touched the bleeding wound.
"Suppose that's something to compare this too.."
"Suppose that's something to compare this too.."
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"It's actually kind of creepy once you really think about it...Lord of the Flies is basically this book in which these kids are marooned on this island after their plane crashes...or ship wrecks, I can't remember which. Anyway, these kids are all of like ten or eleven, really. Like they're small. Some even younger. Basically what happens is they create their own society...but then stuff goes wrong and people start to get hurt. Two of the kids actually get killed. You...you can kind of liken it to our situation. None of us asked for this, we were just tossed here. We have to make do with what we've got...things are going horribly wrong...at least in my eyes. And well, people have died..."
Adam sighed.
"Fuck, I want to go home."
Adam sighed.
"Fuck, I want to go home."
"There are only two ways to do that." Alan commented cynically, leaning against the wall. "Either win the game or find a way to escape, which I doubt will happen."
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"Yeah, but the Lord of the Flies kids didn't have these fucking collars, or cameras watching their every move." He made mention, keeping his eyes on the wound. Chuckling at the last statement...
"Don't we all... And I suppose you two plan on saying here for awhile? If so," Hawley began, looking to Adam. "Wouldn't mind closing the door would you? I've had enough damn visitors today..."
"Don't we all... And I suppose you two plan on saying here for awhile? If so," Hawley began, looking to Adam. "Wouldn't mind closing the door would you? I've had enough damn visitors today..."
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