The White Games

12) Chapter Twelve

#9 Anne Bellvue – Day Three - 2:32 P.M

I grimace as I once again splash water across my wounded arms. Try as I might, I have failed to find any sort of ointment to soothe them. Nothing at all. Not even any simple painkillers. I can't fathom why that would be.

No, I'm being sarcastic. Of course there isn't any medicine on this God-forsaken island. Why would there be? Mr. White wants us to kill one another, not heal each other.

Turning the sink off, I walk across the kitchen and back over to the table where I've laid out my items, including the stuff Clarice left behind yesterday. I've plenty of food, enough to last me for a few more days at the very least. And my flashlight, rope, and camouflage paint should come in handy, should the need arise.

I put everything back into the bag. Outside, the rain comes down in a deluge, flooding the streets with a torrent of water that sloshes down and into the large gutters. Who knows how long this rain will last?

I'm entering the living room, decorated with old antiques and a small coffee table, when I hear their voices. Loud. Sharp. And nearby. Footsteps echo from outdoors, feet pounding against the water-slick floor. Then there's thumping as they head up the porch, and I'm out of options as I duck into the nearest room.

"Oh, thank God!" A feminine voice echoes throughout the house as the door swings open. I'm disappearing into the spare bedroom when they enter the house. "It's dry in here!"

Panic pinballs between my ribs. Who are they? Are they ranked higher then I am? I look down at my arms, at the long gashes that cover them. I'm in no shape to fight anyone right now. Let alone three people.

"My dress is covered with mud!" Another, higher voice speaks. "It stinks, too!"

"Just be glad we have shelter," A male voice speaks this time. "But don't think we're safe yet. Jotaro may be dead, but who knows where the others went."

Jotaro? Wasn't he the Asian kid who died today? Did these three have something to do with that? If they did, then that doesn't bode well for me. Only a handful of Challengers have managed to kill someone so far, and I just had my shelter invaded by a trio of them.

Just great.

"I'll check upstairs," The boy's commanding voice suddenly declares. "You two search the bottom floor."

My heart pounds against my chest as I hear footsteps spread across the house. Any moment now and they may enter this room and find me...Quickly I turn and search for a hiding spot. Closets invite me in, but I know they will search those. Finally my eyes come to a rest on the bed. It is only a simple mattress and frame, but it will have to do.

Behind me, the doorknob begins to turn.

I throw myself to the floor, squirming and wiggling my way underneath the constricting bed. I barely fit. Thank God I'm not claustrophobic.

The door creaks open. I hear them enter the room, see their feet as they cross the room, throwing the closest open. For some reason, one of them is barefoot. "I don't suppose there's clothes in there?" One girl asks.

"No. I'm sorry, Oreo."

Oreo! I recognize that name. Oreo Dutton, #18. She's ranked far below me and offers no threat. I could take her out easily. But...what about the other? I can't remember how many girl's were ranked higher than I am, and I can't check because the bed is too small for me to move my arms. So I'm stuck. No way will I attack without knowing who my opponent is. I learned that the hard way yesterday.

"Hey look, a bed!"

I nearly have a heart attack, then I hold my breath and remain very still, not making a sound. If I do, then it's all over. There's a loud creaking as one of the girl's throw themselves on the bed. For one terrible moment, I think that the bed will collapse. But, no. There's only a loud creaking as the girl stretches, her bones cracking with the effort.