Rules of Survival | afi

night one

If you don't fight for what you want,
don't cry for what you've lost.

•••

Unsurprisingly, Ashton doesn't sleep. He lies down and tries to act like he is, but I can tell by his breathing that he's awake.

I don't question it. It's clear he's got some issues to sort out. I find myself thinking about the confrontation with Calum, the name Angie, how it made him react. I want to ask him about it, but I fear it will drive him to silence again. I think I would go insane.

Speaking of Calum, I really hope that Ashton doesn't have some deep connection with him or something. It's illegal, and could get us both in trouble or killed before the battle is even over. Clearly they have at least a little history. I just hope it stays buried.

A few hours pass of me just staring at the room across from me, where Michael is reading some book he found on a shelf downstairs. All of these buildings are still furnished, just abandoned. Either by war or famine or both. I just wish they had running water.

Eventually, Ashton does fall asleep. A quick check of my wristband reveals that it's half passed two in the morning, and we're supposed to switch in just an hour. I'll just let him rest. He probably needs it.

Another hour passes. I occupy myself by checking through the options on my wristband, revealing that over two hundred people have died in the last twelve hours. The radiation circle is already shrinking, but won't reach us until mid afternoon tomorrow. Plenty of time to move on.

Just as I'm starting to doze off myself, the bed behind me starts to shake.

Ashton's having another nightmare. That much I can tell. He's tossing and turning on the mattress, his expression pulled tight into sheer distress. His whole body is trembling, and every once and a while he'll mumble something incoherent.

It's loud. Too loud. If I don't quiet him down, he'll attract unwanted attention. That's the last thing we need right now.

Before I can overthink it, I'm moving to the side of the bed and grabbing his arms, trying to still him. His skin is feverishly hot, his muscles tense under my fingers.

It takes almost all of my strength to get him still. "Ashton." I whisper, giving his cheek a light slap. He's still shaking in his sleep, but he's finally stopped tossing. "Ashton, you're ok. Wake up."

He doesn't. I shake his shoulders, slap him again. Finally, he sputters awake.

For a moment he's shocked silent, his chest heaving as he frantically looks around until his eyes land on me. Then he goes still, swallowing hard. I take my hands off his shoulders in favor of wrapping them around my own chest.

"You ok?" I ask, eyeing him carefully. He's sweating.

Ashton swallows hard again, his Adam's apple bobbing. He won't look at me. "Yeah." He mutters. "Yeah, sorry. Bad dream."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Ashton scoffs a little, before slowly laying down again with his back to me. He still seems a little dazed. "No."

Again, not questioning it. We have six days left on this God forsaken island. He'll open up eventually.

Sighing, I return to my place in front of the bed, picking up my gun and setting it in my lap. This is going to be one long night.

***

Michael doesn't wake Wren up. Turns out we both had the same idea of letting our partners rest. However, he passes out around four in the morning, leaving me the only person awake in the house.

Even though things were silent before, it's different now. I feel legitimately alone. And when I'm alone, I start thinking.

Michael is fast asleep. So is his partner. They're right across from us, two strangers who are supposed to be allies. They're sitting ducks. Two million dollars for the taking with absolutely no effort.

I didn't expect this to last long anyway. Alliances are bullshit when there's only one winner. (Or two, in this case). Might as well nip it in the bud now, right?

Slowly, I mount my gun, looking through the tiny scope and resting the little target point right between Michael's eyes. I hold it there for several long seconds, my finger twitching toward the trigger.

Just one shot. One easy, close range shot. An extra million for both me and Ashton, two if I can kill Wren before she dies of the poison. It would be sooo easy...

"What are you doing?"

Ashton's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I flinch, lowering the gun. He's sitting on the bed, eyeing me with wide eyes.

"I was just-" I whisper, before stopping myself. There's no use lying to him. "Ashton, it would be so easy."

He gapes at me, and a flash of irritation shoots through my body. "We are not killing them."

"Keep your voice down." I say, not understanding what the deal is. This is the most logical option to take. "We need the money. And it will save us from having to do it later anyway."

"He has a family, Liza. And he saved your damn life earlier." Ashton hisses, and my eyes dart to the opposite room to make sure the blonde boy is still asleep.

"It's either us or them. One of us has to die before the end of week."

Ashton shakes his head. "Absolutely not."

We just stare at each other, having a war with our eyes. I could just shoot Michael anyway. What's Ashton going to do? He can't kill me, he'd be killing himself. But he could go mute again, and as I've already said I know that I won't be able to handle it.

"Fine. But I think you're making a mistake."

"I'm being a decent person."

Anger flares through me. "You assh-"

I stop myself. Just on the edge of my hearing, I catch the sound of the front door downstairs quietly shutting. My heart starts to race.

"What?" Ashton asks, before he goes silent. Footsteps have become apparent, footsteps that are right below us.

I swear, shooting to my feet. I throw the rag from earlier at Michael's face, effectively waking him up. He's only pissed for a few short seconds, but then he hears the footsteps too and he moves to wake Wren up as well.

Slowly, I make my way to the door, training my gun at the top of the staircase. Just as they seem to get close, the footsteps stop. I hold my breath.

Just as Michael copies my actions, a flash of green obscures my vision. Something solid hits the floor, rolling to just a few feet away from us both.

The flashing red light and sense of immediate dread confirm my worst nightmare. It's a grenade.

Immediately, my instincts take over. The atmosphere around my is drowned out my white noise as I lurch forward, wrapping my hand around the ticking time bomb and hurling it toward the staircase. It barely passes the first step before it explodes.

The force of the blast is immediate and shattering. My body is thrown backwards, slamming against the back wall of the hallway, my head violently colliding with the hard wood before I crumble to the ground. I barely register Ashton yelling my name, the house creaking as it falls, as everything is spinning and spinning and spinning and I'm slipping away.

The dark spots cloud over, and everything goes black.

••••

sheesh

ik y'all probably think liza is a bitch now but she's only trying to think w her head and not her heart! we love an intelligent, badass queen

thank you all so much for your sweet comments, they are what keeping this story going. y'all are the absolute best. much love x

see y'all next saturday and stay rad

xoxo

~Camryn