90 DEADLY DAYS (WEEKLY UPDATES RETURNING THIS DECEMBER)

Chapter 9

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Chapter 9

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A solemn group of Graduates make a camp under the canopy five miles from the impenetrable wall. As the sun sets, they gather around a blazing fire. I hang back in the shadows, close enough to feel the soothing heat but far enough to not draw attention. A few others mingle in the darkness too, expressions of worry and fear clouding their faces. Mine probably looks the same.

I've looked death right in it's bloodied eyes. With my hope crushed like the grass beneath my feet, the stars seem to be bleak omens of the future. The scream of the Privilege girl replays in my head, and I blink, as if that can drive it away.

Ominous quiet and the sound of popping flames reigns. I stare at a Graduate sitting taller than us all, sureness and bravery clear by the confident arch of his back. Upon closer scrutiny, I realize that it's Fahim, his large black eyes full of arrogance giving him away.

My brows wrinkle. I slap a bug off my arm, strange questions brimming in my mind. I find myself wondering if this new and dangerous terrain will unite all the trapped Graduates as one, or pit us against each other?

Uniting everyone is, at best, a dream. The more common scenario is that this place will turn us into to a barrel of rats, with each devouring the rest until only a few remain. Shivering at the prospect, I stand and carefully stalk away from the fire.

Just like in the beginning, I'm probably safer on my own.

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Time passes by in a blur, and if it wasn't for my tracker the time would also remain a mystery. On a foggy morning when the woman announces the eighth day I startle, not sure if I heard her correctly. Was it not hours ago that I was wandering from the group by the fire, my stomach gurgling furiously and demanding sustenance?

It has really been five days since I've eaten.

That fact is actually not hard to believe, my stomach cramps are harder to ignore. I cannot walk for long, and running causes stabbing sensations in my legs. Airdrops become scarce, continuing to pass beyond me despite my cries and shouts. I've even tried standing on a clearing in plain sight, risking the chance of giving away my location to Grecousian scouts. I waved my arms and screamed as loud as I could.

They still passed.

Thankfully it rains plenty of times so I'm not wanting for water too. I remember reading in Paradox's handouts that you can only survive three days without water and three weeks without food. I'm only in the beginning of those weeks and it's already hell, two weeks and I don't think I'll hold out. Hopefully by then I'll have food though.

Or maybe it's time to stop playing with chance and head back to the other side. From atop a cliff lies the lower valley full of carpeted earth covered with endless trees and vines. The thick clouds crowding over and promising rain add a layer of bleakness. I bite my lip nervously. It'll take me five days to get back where I started, perhaps even longer on an empty stomach, but it's better than waiting here for food or death, whichever comes first.

Picking up my primitive weapon, a stick sharpened by a jagged rock, I start down the hill behind me. A light breeze filters through the rips in my tunic. The heavy humidity plaguing the shadowlands lessens a bit, but I'm guessing it's not for long.

I scratch the back of my neck, scraping the buildup of salt on the skin from constant sweating. It crusts there and on parts of my face. Everything slicks under a layer of filth. I reek of despair and perspiration, my hair falls in slick strings. I quickly think of something else. The last thing I want to do is wish for a bath.