G048: Meera Stele - START
In the hours that had passed since she'd heard the terrorist's announcement, Meera Stele (Girl #48) hadn't seen another person, living or dead. These woods were vast, however, so it was possible she could walk all day and still not meet anyone. The woods were almost completely silent as she walked between the trees, the only sounds she could hear were her footsteps and, once in a while, the call of a faraway bird. Despite this silence, her dark eyes were alert as she searched the area around her, vigilant for any sign of another classmate.
Even if she did meet another person, she had no idea whether they were trustworthy or not. She had no idea would snap under pressure like this, but she'd heard of the horrors Survival of the Fittest had perpetrated, and how few had ever made it out of the game alive.
None of my friends would ever play this game, not by choice. But there could easily be others who would participate in this. People who think this is just another game, and given a gun, would try to win.
Meera had been always been competitive. Whenever she chose to play something seriously, whether it was a friendly competition between friends or a championship soccer game, she gave it everything she had. But she couldn't imagine killing her own classmates under any circumstances. It was just all too surreal. But what if there are people out there who would? People who think of this as just another game to be won?
After the initial shock, anger, and fear at the announcement had passed, Meera had expected to feel more, well, more upset at the news her life would likely be over in the next few days. Instead she just felt confusion. She didn't understand what purpose this game served, other than sick, twisted entertainment. It wasn't that she felt the game was unrealistic, just that these terrorists made no profit. No bribes or ransoms, nothing. These games held only one promise. Death.
Well, that's...cheery, she thought. If I ran into someone now, he or she could kill me easily.
Meera had nothing to defend herself with. She'd been assigned an owner's manual to some old car. A 1990 Ford Pinto. Useless, while no doubt others had been given shotguns or swords or something.
Stopping beneath the shadow of a large tree, Meera quickly took a swig of bottled water. She'd been walking for what she estimated to be a couple of hours, and needed to keep hydrated. Breaking down her thought processes into such small and menial actions probably helped her avoid thinking about the inevitability of her fate. She could feel the fear bearing down on her, settling over her slowly but surely.
I can't change anything about my situation now. Thinking about it won't help anything either. I need to meet up with someone I can trust completely, and quickly.
But on this island those people could be few and far between.
((Meera Stele continued in Wendigo))