UFSW Hunger Games/Season 2 Issue 4

This is a preview for #4 of the second UFSW Hunger Games and is titled Blood on the Leaves. It will be released in February doe.

Blood on the Leaves (Preview)
“Last one wins…” Michael mutters the last line of the note throughout the makeshift campsite. His eyes scanned every possible inch of the note, hoping to see something hidden. Well, hoping to see anything actually. Anything that can help make sense of the situation.

He sits against one of the many, many trees that fill up the land. With his hoodie up to cover himself Michael lays his head up against the stern, hard branch of the oak tree. After a long day of bickering Michael and Vicky had taken shelter in this old campsite they found. It wasn’t anything special but it prevented him the trouble of trying to set one up himself.

The night almost felt like a different arena, at least to his mind. Michael wasn’t used to being used on an island at night, so maybe he wasn’t one to say. Still, Michael couldn’t help but feel scared by the surroundings around him. It was pitch black out on this place. No car lights, street lamps, or the light of buildings to keep their vision. Instead all they had was the moon and stars to provide them with a rather dim light. Michael could barely see five feet in front of him with this type of light. He wouldn’t even know if an infected or hostile human snuck up on them in this weather. The slight drizzle of rain didn’t help, either.

Placing the mysterious note onto his lap, Michael takes it upon himself to let out a deep, long breath. This whole thing was giving him the worst headache of his life, even worse than those fucking hangovers. Still, Michael proceeds to grab the note once more. He knows it won’t help him at this point but he needed an activity to pass the time. “22 People…”

“Kill to survive.” A feminine voice speaks from across the campsite. Michael looks up at the source of the voice, Vicky. Vicky, like him, sat underneath the protection of a tree, complete with her legs crossed and arms wrapped up around herself in a failed attempt for warmth. She looks over to him with an expression he can’t make out. “Last one wins.”

Vicky was more in anger at her predicament than Michael, who was more confused and trying to figure out why they were there. Of course this would be her luck. Life always loved abusing her, ever since her youth. It just could never live with itself if it let Vicky have one nice thing. So, naturally, when she finally makes it to a safe haven life decides to rip her out of it. Instead life puts her on a “kill or be killed” island to fend for herself, alongside Michael, of all the people. How perfect. “We already know what it says.” She reminds him with a scoff. “No need to keep reading it.”

“I’m--just trying to make sense of this.” Michael looks back down at the note. “Maybe there is something on here we just haven’t seen yet.”

“We looked over it like fifty fucking times. The only things on that damn thing are ‘22 people. Kill to survive. Last one wins’. Exclusively in that order.”

“I’m just looking.” Michael sighs. He is trying his best to be nice to Vicky but it’s almost like she is going out of her way to be a jackass to him. Naturally, he did deserve it, but now wasn’t the time for that. If they were going to survive this they had to put their trust in each other, something she isn’t willing to do. “Not like we have anything better.”

"Damn right." Vicky sighs. Michael looked up at the angry young woman, only wondering what could have happened to posses a young woman to hold such anger. Naturally, Michael shouldn't judge, as his own past spoke for himself, but it still held curiosity in him. Still, Michael spoke not of it. He couldn’t chase Vicky away as she is his only person, and maybe even, the only partner he will have in these games. The only thing Michael could do was try to tame her anger, with the emotion only making her more reckless, and try to forge a better partnership between them.

He scratched his head with a deep sigh. “If we are gonna survive this--”

“We?” Vicky cuts himself. “We is not in the equation. It’s only I, you, him or her.” Vicky corrects him. “Only one of us is making it off this island. Only one of is gonna survive this. The question you should be asking yourself, Mr. Nicholson, is who and how?” Michael remains silent at her heated words.

“Well then. I guess I have to rephrase myself. If one of us are going to get even close to getting out of here then we gotta forget whatever happened to us in the past.”

“Maybe I’m not like you but I can’t forget having my vir--”

“I don’t mean just us.” Michael interrupts her. “I mean anger, depression, anything that will drag you down. Hate is a baggage that will only drag us down here.” Michael continued to lean back on his oak tree. “Wanna know what my old army instructor said? If you let anger be your driving force you will be reckless, un-tained, and most importantly, dead. The only way we have a chance of making it then we gotta be diligent, collected and under control.”

Vicky didn’t meet Michael’s gaze, instead fixating hers on a nearby plant, watching as it tries despite the drizzle’s attempts to stop it. Vicky tried doing that, many times, but each time ended in a tragedy, so she gave up trying to stand back, accepting that the rain will always be there to knock her down.

Vicky has gave into her deep seeded darkness, hoping it would make her stronger in this cruel world. However, before this island, Vicky never fully gave into it. The support of her loved ones, such as her dear Lara and Ethan, have held her fragile, but not fallen. However, the sad truth was that they weren’t here. Vicky didn’t know that for sure but she refused to be hopeful if they were, as upon discovering they were not, she would only be bought back down. For a twenty three year old Vicky sure was fucked up.

She looked up at Michael conflicted, finding him to be something of a fake. “And what drives you?”

“Hope does, Victoria. Hope that, one day, everything will be okay.” It was ironic. The time Michael gained hope was the time Vicky lost hers. They were two similar people going down separate paths.

Vicky, however, looks at him with a sour taste, feeling angered by the way Michael watched her. Like he was judging her. “Wanna know what I can’t believe? That you will sit there and judge me. Because why? I’m angry? Get the fuck over yourself. You’re not some wise, non-sinful man. So don’t you sit there and act like you’re some perfect sain, because both God and I know that you ain’t. You have no idea who I am, nor do you know why. You have no right to tell me what I can’t have.”

“And, no offense, but what gives you the right to judge me? Just as I don’t know you, you don’t know me, nor my background. For if you do so you will be going against everything you just spoke of.” Michael is quick to remind the hypocritical Vicky. Michael knew he was saint, far from one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to be a good person and help her. If this partnership was going to work Vicky needed to let go of that prideful shell of hers.

“Whatever..” Vicky let out a puff as she moved from her spot to the soft ground, resting her head against a small group of flowers, positioning it as a pillow. Michael watched from the tree with blankness. He was hoping to talk to her but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen just yet.

“Get a good rest. Tomorrow we’ll think of a game plan.” Vicky ignores his warnings and only focuses on getting herself to fall asleep in the dark, wet forest, hoping to awaken back in Franklin Mills.