Twelve Hours to Hell

two

Uproar explodes around me, teens screaming and crying and shouting.

"What the fuck?" Jake hisses.

I'm can't speak. I'm terrified.

Hell. Twelve hours to hell. 

This can't be good. I have only twelve hours to figure this out.

I climb onto the nearest table and wave my arms above my head.

"EVERYONE!" I scream, feeling ridiculous.

It works. 

Heads turn, and silence quickly falls over the scared and worried kids. 

"How many of you speak English?" I ask.

Almost every hand goes up.

"That can't be right," I say. 

Everyone is staring, silent.

Watching me.

I feel my face flush. "Um, did anyone find this in the rooms you woke up in?" I hold up my black bag.

Most kids reciprocate the gesture, holding up identical bags with their initials on it. 

"I think all of us got one," I say. "Check your rooms again."

A few kids hurry towards their metal doors. I can see my words being translated over and over again.

I clear my throat awkwardly. "Well, anyway," I say, "we're trapped in here with no visible ways of getting out. There are a boy and a girl from each major country here, as far as I can tell. Does anyone have any idea what we all might have in common? Our kidnappers know our names, so they must have been planning this for a long time."

A few people gasp. A few kids are translating again, because most people probably don't speak very fluent English. 

A lot of kids are nodding, agreeing. 

But no one has any ideas. 

"That's all I've got, then," I say, tired. "Anyway, I think we should all check our bags, for clues."

I hop down from the table. "Thank you," I say. "Merci beaucoup. Gracias. Gratzi." I tap my chin, which is sign language for thank you. You never know. 

Jake rolls his eyes. 

* * *

My bag contains pretty much what I expected.

I have a small packet of dried fruit, some crackers, two bottles of water, and a bag of nuts.

Lots of different kinds of nuts. Almonds, walnuts, peanuts, cashews, pecans.

No pistachios.

Weird, I think.  

I'm allergic to pistachios. Is there some way that my captors could know that?

Also in my bag is a Swiss Army knife with several attatchments and a small, printed note: 

ONLY ONE CAN SURVIVE. 

FIND THE SUN AND YOU FIND YOURSELF. 

I curse. This isn't helpful at all! 

I look back at the enormous screen. 

11:41:32

* * *

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So, sorry for the super short update, but i just got back from four weeks of camp and this is all i had time to write. Next chapter will be longer.