The White Games

3) Chapter Three

#12 Humberto Martel - Day One - 2:35 PM

I sit with my back against the cliff wall that grows tall up at the corner of the beach, watching the water moving and receding as the tide changes. The scents of the beach reach my nose. I smell saltwater, I smell decomposing seaweed and other life forms. I smell the dead jellyfish that have washed up, the scent of the woods to my left brought on by the breeze wafting across my face, though it's not really a breeze so much as it is a pocket of disturbed air. I hug my knees as I stare out into the endless gray waves, only capable of thinking about one person.

Where are you, Esmeralda? Where have you gone, beloved sister?

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to bring back memories of where I was before this dreadful beach. It's useless. I know it is. I've been trying and trying for the past hour and a half, trying desperately to reclaim some semblance of memories. Nothing comes back to me. Nothing alleviates the dark despair that I feel.

Mr. White's grinning face flashes across my mind. His ghoulish white sunglasses staring into my soul as he raves on about how he's abducted me and plans on having me killed by his Challengers.

But I don't care much for that. I don't care what's happening to me. I'll find a way to survive, I always do. But what about Esmeralda? What has become of her? Mr. White didn't kidnap her as well, which means that he left her where she was. On the streets. Without me.

How will she survive?

My little sister alone on the streets, with no idea where I've gone...How will she react? Will she be able to survive on her own? Where was she when I was taken? I can't remember. I can't remember...

My eyes blink open and I stare wearily at the ocean. Thick fog covers the waves, a recent addition to the scenery. Everything was bright and cheerful when I first woke up here. I was so confused, unable to think on how I would have gotten to a beach when we lived nowhere near one. Well, now I know. I wish I didn't. Then I could fool myself into thinking this was all a dream.

I shift my body further into the cleft of the cliffs, hugging my blanket close to me. I don't know why, but it was right next to me when I woke up. It, along with the clothes on my back and a small assortment of fruit I've found in the caves, are the only possessions I have. I'd feel good, if I knew that Esmeralda had some food and shelter. But I don't. I don't know anything about her.

Stifling a sob, I roll over onto my side and stare into the wall. "Esmeralda...I'll find you..."

***

#19 Lucas Adin - Day One - 3:30 PM

The interior of the lighthouse is drafty and quiet. The bottom floor is a large, circular room filled with disorganized piles of wooden crates. I've already cracked a few of these open with the help a knife I found just outside, but there's nothing inside but polystyrene packing peanuts and mothballs. Very peculiar.

It's well that I found this lighthouse, for it will both protect me from the elements and has already given me access to a small amount of supplies. Along with the knife, I've found a slingshot, coil of rope, and a single flare. No food though. I'll need to find my own sustenance if I mean to survive for long.

I stiffen as a birdcall goes up outside. Eyes slide over to the door. Is someone coming? No...The door remains shut. I rub my temples and sigh. This stupid "game" is making me more paranoid then I have ever been before. I'm worried about even the slightest of movement. It's understandable, of course. There's plenty of people out to kill me, if Mr. White is telling the truth. People who a game like this favors. I may be reasonably fit myself, but I'm no athlete. It's the obvious reason I'm ranked so low. I excel in the classroom rather than the gym.  And while brains can best brawn, it is entirely dependent on the circumstances.