Program V1: The Prologue

#1

The wide open space in the centre of the school buildings of General’s Pride could be described as nothing less than a parade ground. Gathered there in neat rows, all facing one direction, were the students eligible to take part in this edition of the Program, the entirety of the Sophomore, Junior and Senior years. The focus of their attention, a huge white board, upon which was being projected a satellite uplink to the White House (the exterior of which resembled a nuclear bunker).

This was Announcement Day. In a few short moments, the fates of a select group of students would be decided. They would fight and die in the name of America. Just as everything the General decided was for the good of America. To think otherwise was treason. He was, after all, the General, how could he do anything else?

For the eldest of the students, this would be their tenth time standing facing that screen, more than likely, they would have witnessed the same spectacle many times before. The youngest kids, the sophomores, they’d only experienced this once. It still held plenty of fear for them, at least for those that hadn’t convinced themselves that the chances of them being picked were statistically tiny.

Before long, the projection flickered, phasing into an image of The General. The school, students and faculty both stood to attention as the stern, iron-haired man on the screen saluted them. Across the nation, the same video was being broadcast to thousands of schools. Naturally, it was pre-recorded, but they liked to call it live. Few ever tried to dispute it.

“Good afternoon, schools of America. This is your General. Once again, we reach that time of the year where we select those to take part in our most prestigious of events, The Program. I am sure that everyone who is selected will do America and myself proud in fulfilling their national duty. Oh, but one last thing before I begin. Some students in past years have proven treasonous to their country and attempted to avoid participation in the Program. In order to ensure that we have at least fifty students, we will be drawing a small number of additional names.”

The school selected for the forty-second edition of the Program is… General’s Pride, in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania.”

~*~

Events progressed rapidly from there. The sophomore year was chosen. Names were reeled off, some people cried, some people were hysterical and some stood in stunned silence. The squads that had been standing by swept in to take their designated targets, meeting with no resistance for once as they restrained and marched the students off. They were shepherded to an armoured bus with blacked out windows, there to be transported to the location where they would meet their fates.

~*~

Around three hours later, the bus arrived at its destination, a large compound which had been cleared out especially for the Program. Naturally, the students couldn’t see what was outside, but murmurs shot up amongst them as the bus drew to a halt, murmurs quickly curtailed with glares from the silent soldiers sitting in their midst.

The bus was still for ten minutes, and then there was movement at the front of the bus. The front door was opened and after seeking an ‘okay’ from somebody standing outside, the soldier that had been driving the vehicle gestured to his comrades. They acted swiftly, nudging the students into motion such that in a short while, they were all moving, filing off of the bus quickly.

Having been parked alongside it, stepping off the bus meant stepping into an enclosed tent of sorts, inside of which was a row of desks, facing a small stage, upon which was a lectern. Standing behind said lectern was a wiry man with a mop of blond hair and a lazy smile, complimenting boyish good looks. He wore trousers with a camouflage pattern, as well as a sleeveless, pale green shirt. If one were to mention he was a Brigadier General, they would be laughed out of the building.

His name was David Adams and the Program was his idea.

“Sup kids? How’d the bus ride go? Good I hope, though I guess those things aren’t built for comfort… maybe I should try and fix that. Oh but what am I saying, you guys don’t care, or ‘least if you do, you won’t be for long. Cause if you’re really bothered about that, well, you’ll probably get shot and shit, so yeah. Don’t worry about the seats is what I’m saying…”

“…Where was I? Oh right, sorry kids. So you probably all know this, but you’ve been selected for the 42nd edition of the program, good going! …Not that I’m happy most of you are going to die painful deaths or anything, naw, though it does always make for good viewing. Well, uh, anyway, the fifty…ish of you are about to be placed inside a large compound over yonder to kill each other to death.”

There was a pause. Adams seemed to consider his phrasing.

“…Either way, all of you guys go in there and only one of you comes out, that’s how it works. You each get a backpack, which will have rations, maps, a first aid kit, a compass, a flashlight and a randomly determined weapon inside. Everything needed for a weekend of fun camping out with your friends! …Except for all of that violent death and blood I guess.”

“You’ll be getting updates from yours truly every day, where I’ll tell all of you who died and who knocked them off, to keep you all on your toes. Maybe you can keep score or something, that’s what I do. It’s fun times. Well, probably less so when it’s your friends I guess but hey, you could always try keeping on the bright side!”

Adams surveyed the rows of solemn faces in front of him, some in tears, some in shock. He appeared to rethink what he’d said.

“Although I suppose it’s hard to keep cheerful when you’re more than likely gonna be dead in a couple of days, but eh, you gotta roll with the punches. Alrighty, anyway… it’s almost time… so all I’ve got left to say is to put in everything you’ve got for Uncle Sam! USA! USA! USA! …No? Alright, suit yourselves. Hit the gas.”

Adams pulled on a gas mask as the pavilion flooded with noxious white sleeping gas, laying all of the students out for the count. Very shortly, they’d be fighting for their lives. Underneath the mask, Adams grinned, a horrible, horrible smile...