((Peter McCue continued from Back in St. Paul, if Just for an Evening...
The night they had spent had been fantastic, and the last thing that he had wanted to do was face the morning light. More running for their lives. More hiding. More fretting having to make that decision, having to go back on his word to Imraan... For Katlin's sake. No gunpowder, no blood on his hands yet, but with each passing day he knew his luck was running dry. Some one would attack them. Someone would try to do something to Katlin, to him, prevent them from living a few minutes longer. But at the best, only one of them could get off the island... And his time to come up with a plan was running dry, fast. Very, very fast. The dawn had broken out of the window of their temporary home, signaling day ten.
Wait. The sun was up. Had he slept through the announcement? The announcement always went off at sunrise, or just a little after... But no, it was almost surreal. He could hear birds chirping outside the window, feel the sheet atop him sticking to his body... Had the entire thing been just a dream?
Rolling over to shield his sun for the eyes, his arms draped over Katlin... No, it hadn't been a dream. His love... That was still so strange to say. A smile crept across his face. He never thought he would smile a legitimate smile on this island, but he did. As he pulled her close, just willing the day away, he heard her stir. Nothing would interrupt this. Not until they had to leave. Even if it was hot, sticky, and uncomfortable, this was still his paradise. This one little room.
He tried to run his ideas through his head. They just would not come to him. He didn't care right then. There were bodies here, he was sure, that could wait.
...Wow, that was a macabre thought. He shook his head, before resting it on her shoulder, sighing happily. And so he intended to cuddle the day away, moving under the cover of night, leaving this happiness behind... Would it really have been so bad to just die here in each other's arms? Like this? They would die happy... No. He made a promise. He was going to keep it. He was going
to keep it. No matter what it took.
His thoughts were interrupted by a screeching sound, some sort of electronic noise. In his half awaken stupor, he mistook it for the announcements, wondering why they were late.
"Hello, students of Bayview Secondary School, My name is Jaxon Jeremiah. I'm here with a group of people who can get your collars off and take you home, on one condition: that you have not been murdering your classmates over the past week. If that describes you, and you want a lift, come to the beach as quickly as you can. We won't be here for long."
...What? If the window to the room hadn't been open, he was sure he wouldn't have heard that. But...
"...group of people who can get your collars off and take you home..."
"...take you home..."
His eyes were wide. They couldn't have much time. Without taking any heed whatsoever of his clothingless state, he rolled out of the bed, but not before rousting Katlin as best as he could.
"Wake up! W-We're going home." Through tear filled eyes, and a quivering voice, he made the declaration. They were going home. Within a split second, the map was unfurled upon the carpet below him, and pants were sliding on. It took a quick moment to see that they only needed to advance north, the only possible beach they could have heard that from was there.
"We're going home..."
Already dressed, Katlin's hand in his, halfway out the door, shotgun held in the second. He glanced down to the steel he held in his hand. This... Was survival of the fittest. It could be a trap. Someone could have been given a megaphone, could have finally collected enough weapons to make mincemeat out of the last few non-players creeping around. People like him and Katlin.
He pulled back the forearm, checking the magazine tube. Loaded. "Listen, Katlin." He held his arm across the door defensively. "We're going to this, we're getting out of here. But... It could be a trap. That could be Maxwell. I... I'll go in front. Just be careful, and when we see the beach keep your head down... And if something does happen to me, I want you to promise me, you'll take the shotgun and run. D-Don't get yourself hurt."
"Let's do this."
That had been what felt like hours ago. The watch Danya had oh so happily provided them told him it had actually been two and a half. They said they weren't staying for long. How long was not long?
Boat. There was in fact a boat. And it seemed like everyone and their brothers were crowded around it. A line was forming.
He felt a squeeze on his hand, a deathgrip. Power he didn't expect. She was just as elated as he was.
The barrel of the shotgun dipped to the ground. A goofy grin of disbelief spread across his face.
"We're actually going home!"
"W-We are. We're actually going home.[/i]
His stunned silence and disbelief didn't last long, as he nearly felt his arm ripped from its socket as Katlin sprinted forward. It hadn't been a trap. Someone was actually here. They were being rescued. He would have a moment to glance at the other faces around them later. He could only hope more people that he knew had made it. But it didn't matter for now. He was safe.
And more importantly she was safe. He held to his promise. They both survived this hell hole.
B008, PeterMcCue: Eliminated
He directed Katlin to the line, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
"There's one last thing I have to do... Don't worry, I'm not going far."
The nearest camera was close-by. Quite obvious, slid into the dunes. He crouched in front of it, a smug look on his face. "What was it. Ten days ago Danya? Ten days ago I told you that I would leave this island alive, but not be the only one? Well guess what. I told you so. You may have killed so many of my class mates, broken so many more... But we won. The kids won this one, you sick bastard."
He picked the camera up, in something akin to a chokehold, the shotgun slung over his back. Wires dangled into the sand, still connected, still recording. He knew this footage wasn't going to make it to TV. He knew this would never be shown. But he knew Danya would see it, or at least the remnants of some of his men. The epee slipped from his belt loop. With a quick thrust, it shattered the glass.
With an unceremonious plop, the camera fell back to the ground.
A foot in the sand followed by another. This was the end of this sick game. Survival of the Fittest was over for him and the person that mattered most to him. It was over.
Her arms embraced him as he returned, and his her. They were going home.