"Yeah, I-- well, yeah." Genevieve sighed, exhausted. A shiver run down her spine. "You be careful too, Riley. And you, Louise. Try not to, y'know, die or anything like that."
Genevieve yawned loudly and covered her mouth in surprise. All of a sudden, her pack felt twice as heavy and she struggled to keep her eyes open. Now that the initial burst of adrenaline had worn off, Genevieve was starting to feel the effects of the cold. She wiped her bleary eyes and kept them shut as bitter ocean air brushed against her face and entered her lungs through her nose, sending a chill through her insides. Wind blew her hair to the boardwalk. I'm exposed out here
, Genevieve remembered. Better leave before I end up like Lucy and Isaiah.
Genevieve covered her mouth again, expecting another yawn. Bleary-eyed, she caught it in the back of her mouth and let both arms fall limp at her sides. She decided that what she had just said to Riley and Louise, despite sounding like cliche bullshit to her, was probably the best goodbye she could muster. Genevieve adjusted the straps of her bag to try and take some of the weight off her back. It didn't help. If she wanted to reduce the load, she was going to have to ditch some of the dead weight.
Genevieve could see now why most people either put the costumes on or ditched them. Carrying a Bugs Bunny costume around was surprisingly exhausting.
"Bye!" Genevieve called out as she crossed the beach, but Riley was already leaving. Trying to keep up her power-player mystique for the cameras, Genevieve guessed. "No offense, but I really hope I don't meet you guys again."
Genevieve climbed the wooden steps up off the beach and onto the boardwalk, stopping every so often to shake the sand out of her boots. Genevieve had figured- at some point- that she could get through the game by staying with her team and avoiding anyone she recognised. Meeting Riley and Louise had convinced her that this was an impossible goal. At some point, Genevieve was going to have to watch a friend die- or worse, be the one who killed them.
If it came down to it, Genevieve had the tools she needed to survive.
Genevieve hated herself for even thinking of that possibility- and she hated herself even more for visualising Anastasia Arcadia as the student she would be forced to kill to kill- but it was a truth that she would have to come to terms with. Her friends were dead, or dying, and the thought of ending up like them terrified
Genevieve noticed that she was shaking, and that her knife was still clutched tight in her hand. She knelt down and shoved it back down the side of her boot. It clanged awkwardly against her ankle with each step she took. At the very least, she would know if it went missing.
“Good talk, Riley.” Genevieve murmured. She felt an intangible sense of sadness.
Totally drained, Genevieve imagined the spectres of dead friends silently judging her every move. She looked back at the beach and then up to the cameras.
They're only ghosts
, she thought. Who needs them?
[Genevieve Cordova, continued in Genni Runs the Voodoo Down