Students in the program converse about the events.
Earlier, upon meeting up with Beau and Lauren, Alice had decided that it would be in their best interests to give Beau her gun. The reason for this? Because she felt that if she was allowed to use it then she would probably end up shooting herself in the foot. No pun intended.
As they conversed, Beau reached behind his back and tugged, in a somewhat irritated fashion, at the waistband of his light gray suit trousers. The reason for this was that the large revolver he had recently obtained was currently tucked down the back of his trousers.
“I don’t know about you, but I think we should get out of this area,” he said, flicking his head slightly in order to remove his strawberry blonde fringe from out of his eyes. “The longer this goes on for, the more people will show up in the urban areas. I think it’ll be safer to find somewhere in the countryside. I know we’re trying to find people that we can trust but… we cant trust anyone if we’re dead. If we meet anyone on they way to wherever we’re heading, they can join us, but, I don’t think its safe here at the moment.” Flitting his light blue eyes between his two companions, Beau lowered his brow and slightly tucked in his chin, as if waiting for a response.
“S-sure,” Alice stuttered, casting her eyes downwards and clasping her hands together. Glancing sidelong, she addressed her friend. “What about you Lauren…?”
She didn’t respond. After all, how could she. After only a few hours, at least five of her friends had died. No. Had been killed! And by her other friends! It was like some sick dream!
“Lauren!” Beau said, his low voice echoing in her ears. “Are you okay with us moving?”
Snapping herself out of her daze, Lauren looked up at him and nodded meekly.
“Okay,” Beau nodded. “Lets go… before a psycho shows up…”
“Hello!” called out Jordan Jarve (Male Student #16, and transfer student) as he stepped over the splintered pieces of wood that lined the doorway.
Looking down at his hand, he peered at his designated ‘weapon’. Clasped in his hand was an object that somewhat resembled a ‘SAT-NAV’ GPS. The kind that were often used in cars nowadays. In the middle of the shimmering crystal screen was a small star-like icon. Depicted in the top right hand corner of the same screen was the exact same icon. Someone was inside this house.
Taking another quick look over his shoulder at the surrounding farmland, he made sure that he wasn’t being followed before venturing inside. He just hoped that whoever was in this farmhouse was friendly.
Slowly advancing down the hallway, he continued to check over his shoulder, before reaching a door. If anyone was in here, they would be through this door.
Reaching out, he enclosed the doorknob in his sweaty palm and turned it 90 degrees to his right. Creaking inwards so slowly that it was almost painful, the opening door revealed the room to Jordan.
In the center of the square living room, was a low coffee table. Surrounding this table were two large sofas, and a television set. (Television. The mere thought of it sounded ludicrous. After spending a few hours in this psychotic game, Jordan wasn’t even sure if something that like ever existed. Was it just a memory conjured from Jordan’s imagination?) Next to this television set, was a girl holding a machine gun.
“Whoa!” Jordan cried, raising his hands in front of himself, in a ludicrous attempt to shield himself from the bullets that could spray from the nozzle of the gun at any second. (Duh! Hello! Hands to stop bullets?! Impossible much!)
“Wh-who are you!” the girl stammered, tightening her fist into a white-knuckled grip on the holster of her Uzi.
“My name’s Jordan,” he said slowly, purposely lowering his voice in an attempt not to provoke her into shooting him where he stood. “I’m a transfer student.”
“How did you find me!” she trembled, her face wound up so much that Jordan could see the whites of her eyes in a clear ring around her irises.
Carefully raising his hand, Jordan brought his GPS/ Tracker mechanism into clear view. The clear morning light that was seeping through the woolen curtains reflected off of it’s almost liquid surface in a clean shimmer, as he said: “I used this. It shows people who are nearby. I checked it and saw that someone was close. I followed the signal and it led me here.”
“Why!” the girl suddenly blurted out, a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead. “Why would you want to find anyone!?”
“I’m looking for someone that I know,” was the response.
“Another transfer student?” she questioned, raising a single short eyebrow.
“No,” Jordan stated. “It’s someone from your school.”
“What do you mean by a psycho?” questioned Alice, in a spectacularly out-of-character act of meekness. She had since discarded her blazer and was currently only wearing her slim-fitting suit shirt and black pencil skirt.
“Well obviously there are people that’re playing,” Beau stated, flicking his head to remove his strawberry blonde fringe from his eyes. “Plus… You remember that guy from the classroom? The transfer student, with the crazy spiky hair.” The two girls nodded. “Yeah… I just get this feeling from him. He kinda freaks me out.”
“You don’t just think it’s him, though, do you?” Alice questioned, as they continued to walk along the side of the building.
“I’m not sure…” Beau muttered, squinting his eyes. “I think the other transfer students may play… But…I keep getting the feeling that some people from our school are playing.”
“Yes,” Jordan said. “I know William. Well…I kind of more than know him…”
“What do you mean?” the girl said, knitting her brows together.
“He’s my best mate…” Jordan smirked. “Has been, for the past five years.”
“Nah, I don’t think that Will’ll play,” Beau muttered, to Lauren, who had suggested that Will would be one of the ones in their school who would be willing to give in to the allure of ‘The Program’. “He’s too down to earth and calm to buy into it.”
“And?” Lauren persisted. “He’s read that !” She spat out the word almost as if it was too dirty to even be acknowledging it as ‘that’. “He knows how the game works! He enjoyed reading it. Out of anyone, he’s probably the most likely person to play!”
“Yeah, but that just means that he knows how to stay alive,” Beau responded. “He’s not the kind of guy to get stressed or freaked and go on some killing spree. Even if he has read ‘Battle Royale.’ The government only kept it in circulation to make more people willing to play if they were selected. He knows that. That’s the reason why he wont do that.”
“But have you ever heard him talk about it!?” Lauren stated, lowering her brow. “He gets this weird glint in his eye. Like he’s enjoying it!”
“I just think that’s ‘cos he knew that if he were to ever get picked, that he would be able to last till the end. Either that or he knows something about the government, or the way the game is run.”
“He’s your best friend?” the girl said, open mouthed with shock.
“Yeah…” Jordan chuckled. “Selected to kill each other. Even though we’re in different schools. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth.”
“Meh,” Jordan merely grunted, a small smile plucking the corner of his mouth. “If anyone’ll be able to survive, it’s him.”
“Why’s that,” she asked, somewhat relaxing and lowering the nozzle of her Uzi.
“Because he’s knows all about this psychotic fucking game. He’s read about it. He’s researched it. He watches it on TV. He’s seen films about it. He doesn’t’t do all that ‘cos he’s got a sick interest in it, or he finds it entertaining. He does it so that, if he ever got into it, he’d be able to find a way out or, failing that, survive as long as possible.”
“I never thought about it like that.”
“Plus, he’s smart. Probably not as smart as you lot in your school, but he’s got so much fuckin’ applied knowledge it’s unbelievable. Did he ever tell you that he knows how to make a bomb?”
“Yes…” she chuckled slightly, remembering the conversation she’d had with him, in his blind enthusiasm about the subject matter. Suddenly, she changed the subject. “So what about you?”
“I’m not much, in comparison,” he laughed. “I’m more athletic, and I’ve read the book as well, but I’m nowhere near as smart with shit like that. I’m better at computers.”
“You chose not to shoot me with that thing, and you’ll find out,” he chuckled, pointing towards the girl’s Uzi, which was still partially raised.
Suddenly realizing that she was still holding it, the girl dropped it to the floor and smiled, her face flushing slightly red with embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry,” she smiled nervously.
“It’s alright,” Jordan smiled back. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“It’s Emma,” she said, still smiling.
29 Students Remaining