Rules of Survival | afi

2

We mature with damage,
not years.

***

I've never been good in social situations.

In my experience, when you have a conflict with someone in the marines, you shoot them.

Obviously I can't do that now.

My wrist throbs. The arm band. I glance at his. The same number is engraved on the top. His life is my life now, and mine is his. I might as well try to start over.

"Sorry about the beer." I manage to sputter out, with dignity, of course.

He says nothing. He's staring at the front of the room, at the huge screen before us. But I know he heard me.

"On the bright side, at least I didn't punch you."

Nada. He doesn't even acknowledge that I said anything at all. Is everyone an asshole here?

I huff out a frustrated breath, turning to the front again. At this point almost everyone is in their seats.

Angela Hargrove has taken her spot on the podium once again, observing everyone as they meet their partners and get settled. A good fifty people have already filed in to replace the ones that quit, and are taking their places as well. As the last few sit down, the screen up front petters to life.

"Welcome everyone who decided to stay, and welcome those who have just arrived. I know you are all anxious to see this years battle ground. I am pleased to say that the wait is over!"

This time, the applause is small. Everyone is still getting over the shock of the wild card, myself included. Angela presses something invisible to us all, and a large map appears on the screen. I bite the inside of my cheek as whispers erupt throughout the room.

The island is rectangular, at least 100 miles wide and 200 miles long. There's a massive lake in one corner, an abandoned oil factory and cruise ship, a dim forest and an old science observatory in ruins. These are where most of the important supplies will be. The rest is just scattered buildings, carrying some loot but not enough.

Immediately, my eyes go to the cruise ship. It's abandoned, a massive hole caved in the center, but it's at least a hundred yards from shore and undoubtedly a gold mine for weapons and supplies. I highly doubt it will remain inside the radiation safe zone for more than a day, but a day is all I need. Or, we need.

"This very map is also programmed into your monitors, as well as built in timers for the constantly shrinking safe zone. You have the rest of the night and tomorrow to plan out your strategy with your partner." Angela continues, and I give Ashton the side eye.

"As you all probably know, there are limited resources. We have a total of twelve hundred bullets scattered across the island, yet just under six hundred guns. You will have to fight for your weapon. Food and water will also be provided, along with medical packs, if you can find them. Though no emergency kit in the world could save you from the poison in your bloodstream if your partner is killed."

This subtle reminder of the rule change has me grinding my teeth. My partner hasn't said a single word, and won't even acknowledge my existence. He'll sure as hell be acknowledging my existence when I'm saving his ass on the battle ground.

I mean, I could just drop out, but that would mean quitting, and I am anything but a quitter.

"Now, I suggest you use the short amount of time you have before the battle to get to know the person sitting next to you. You will be staying in the same room and have the same number card, so I'm sure you will have no trouble. Remember, this persons life is yours now as well. Treat them wisely."