Survival of the Unfit

Chapter 41

April

The car was behind me, parked by the construction point on 14. I clutched the letter in my hand and made it towards Seaview, the salty breeze off the ocean making my head swim in it. It felt like I was waiting for Levi's signal again, the calm before the storm. I had my leather jacket on and my weapons at my side. I had confidence, but it was faltering with each step. There was no sign of anyone yet.

I felt for the machete at my side, afraid it might not be there for whatever reason. My hand wrapped around the sheath and squeezed, blade still there, knife still there. It all felt so weird. It felt like being on death row, but not somehow. Somehow I was overly confident and crippling under fear, thriving under pressure and then being crushed by it simultaneously. And my brain was getting louder than the waves and I couldn't hear Levi's opinion on the world and his smooth remarks on the hood of that car, and I had to shut them out. My mind had to be blank. Yes, even when that figure standing on the side of the road with a phone in hand turns to you. Even when I realize it's former spear girl. Even when I see the phone go up to her ear and a smile spread across her face.

I ignored her and kept walking, rounding the funky miniature peninsula of the island, emerging from the trees and hearing the roar of the ocean more clearly. It was nothing but tall grass to wade through now, a small half circle of people in the distance. I recognized no one, I saw no new faces.

I stopped holding the crumpled letter so tight and shoved it in my back pocket, stepping more quickly. This, was it. And even though it was it, I wasn't scared. Memories of Brandy resurfaced and fueled my anger, my determination, the sheer and very grit of revenge seeping through my heart and tainting the pit of my stomach. It burned, oh it burned like fire the closer I got. I remembered Hailey, and I remembered Levi. I remembered that each of the five victims had people grieving for them as well, people going through the same type of hell. What type of fucked up place is this? Who knows. Who knows why it's here and how it came to be, but tonight, I will partake in Rushwood history. I was going to stop this damned system from ever working again.

Because this was it. I understood it was live or die; I was prepared to do both.

"Which one of you is it?" I asked from fifteen feet away. Familiar faces were in the half circle of ten or so people, including Aly, Patrick, and Flynn. Crossbow girl, throwing knife girl. Other boys and girls I couldn't tag labels to. I recognized the one buff guy from the chase Brandy and I had spied on, the guy Levi had shot in the foot. It was the elite killing gang, even the aluminis that had been part of it all along.

Aly laughed and crossed her arms, saying under her breath. "I can't believe she came."

I whipped out my machete and took a threatening step closer, watching their eyes fill with alarm, but only the unfamiliars stepped back. "Who is it?" I said again. "I demand to know!"

Aly only laughed again, the only reaction from anyone. "You actually came."

I narrowed my eyes and tightened my grip on the handle of the knife, feeling security in its weight. "It's you, isn't it."

She picked at her nails, and I saw the knife strapped to her thigh. "Not I," she responded in a sing-song voice.

"Then who is it!" I yelled again, taking a step forward. The others stepped back, and Aly didn't budge.

She laughed again. "You actually came."

I stomped forward and grabbed Aly's hoodie front, pulling her towards the point of my knife, positioned right over her trachea. Her eyes were wide, but not as alarmed as they should be. As I wanted them to be. I brought the knife back, but a hand wrapped around it before I could thrust forward, just enough to scare Aly. Aly didn't flinch though, and the grip around my wrist tightened painfully. "Don't threaten my workers."