The White Games

7) Chapter Seven

#21 Lucas Adin – Day Two - 12:35 PM

Through the glass windows at the top of the lighthouse, I observe three figures as they move about on the beach. One is among the rocks at the base of my cliff, spearing tiny fish with a crudely made weapon. Another stands at least thirty yards into the water, walking along a shoal as he captures larger fish with a trident. The third strolls along the beach, occasionally stopping to gaze out at the forest behind them.

"Future trouble," I grit my teeth together as I move away from the window. "That's what they'll be. Mark my words."

I'd approach them and ask for a truce, if I didn't have yesterday's incident fresh in mind. I tenderly touch the large purple bruise on my face, a mark left by Alana's fist.

The daft girl must have thought I was trying to attack her, or perhaps she just wanted me dead. Either way, she punched me in the face before I could even speak. A pity. I only wanted to ask her about the island, share information and corroborate with what we knew. But did she stop to listen? No! She punched me into a freezing cold stream and ran away.

"Stupid girl," I drum a finger along the edge of the lighthouses control panel. I'm not quite certain on how it works yet, but another hour of tinkering and I will have it figured out.

That's about the only good thing that's happened on this island. After the incident at the stream, I didn't think things could get much worse. My clothes were soaking wet and had to be hung out to dry, leaving me in nothing but my skin to sleep through the chilly night. I suppose I could have slept in my wet clothing, if I wanted to catch pneumonia, that is.

But that was not the end. In the morning, while collecting my clothes, I noticed the tent set up on the beach. It was too dark for me to spot it last night, but now I could see it clearly. I was hoping that it's inhabitants would pass on, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Those three are intent on staying.

That puts me in quite the pickle. I could up and move, leave the lighthouse and seek out another location. It would be dangerous to randomly move throughout the island, especially when I know so little about the terrain and the whereabouts of the other Challengers. But is it more dangerous to stay here?

The beach is not that far from here. Yes, the trio would have to enter the forest and find the winding path that leads up the cliffs here, and while that is unlikely, it is in the realm of possibility.

"Decisions, decisions," I cup my chin, deep in thought. 

Viewers back home must be expecting a lot from me. That must be why I dropped in the rankings. I'm a student at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Certainly none of the others can claim to possess the knowledge that I do. Yet they most assuredly have more survival knowledge than I. That's why I need to demonstrate to the viewers I'm still the superior choice and take my rightful place at the top of the rankings.

I stand, crossing back over to the window and observing the three once more. The guy out on the sandbar is swimming back now. The other two notice this and they all begin to gather at the center of the beach. I self-consciously rub the collar around my neck. I have a difficult decision to make.

It's funny. I've always thought of life as a game. And there's no game I can't win. I just need to be sure to make the right decisions at the right time.

***

#14 Haviana Greyson – Day Two - 2:25 P.M

The afternoon sun washes across the rough stones as I casually make my way down the gravel path, winding and twisting through the gullies and cliffs that surround me. I head south, away from the large mountain that rises in the north and into a surrounding valley with dwarf mountains and dramatic hills, scarred with gulches where mist clings.