DEATH ISLAND

Sam's eyes drooped after pulling an all-nighter. He would have closed them without the cover but he fought the fatigue by squeezing his hands.

The excitement within him waned when he was reminded of death. Though he did not fear it, it was still something that could shake even the calmest of men.

"Can I ask some questions?" Sam said.

"You're already asking one," Imogen answered. His eyes were glued on the narrow road ahead.

Shirtless and barefoot children stood outside shabby houses marveling at the enormous vehicle. It was a rare sight for them in Scrapes City.

Sam took it as a yes. "My parents—"

The female glared at him. "Stop wasting time and put the cover on!"

Imogen chuckled. "There's no need to be rough on the child, Nikita."

"It's for his good." Nikita rolled her eyes; the long lashes on them fluttered like butterfly wings. She stared at Sam's reflection in the rear-view mirror. "Kid if you want to live long, kill your curiosity before it kills you. Don't be like your father."

Sam wanted to defend his father, but he did not want to risk his chances of passing the examinations. "Not now, Sam," he reminded himself. He nodded and covered his eyes.

It was tight. Sam stared at the utter darkness.

Then a needle stabbed his leg.

...

Sam stirred. His eyes blinked, disoriented.

He raised his arms to cover himself from the glaring brightness. It was the sun. Then the moment finally kicked in.

Sam lurched upright, his white shirt covered in sand. Behind him, the crashing of waves echoed.

"Where am I?" His thoughts raced. He stood and quickly absorbed his surroundings. A thick forest loomed before him, and on his back was an endless ocean.

He was on an island. Barefoot, but not afraid.

His attention jumped to his leg where he was stabbed. The spot beneath his black pants numbed.

"So this is it. The infamous Death Island," he muttered.

He had heard and read about it. But he did not expect the rough arrival to the said place. Like those in books, he preferred introductions. But in his current situation, he must adapt and be prepared for action.

"Welcome to your second and final phase of the Institute's examination," a robotic female said.

Sam looked around him but could not find the source of the voice.

"All examinees have twenty-four hours to find and reach the safe zone. Live and survive."

A rustle came from the shrubs ahead. Someone broke out of them with eyes wide open. Behind him, three naked burly bald men covered in black tattoos raised their bone axes.

"Help!" the figure said. His strides could barely maintain a distance against his pursuers. He rushed towards Sam.

Sam looked around, but the sand stretched to the west and east. The pebbles on the ground were too small to make any difference. To the ocean!

The figure followed Sam through the water, and the naked men stopped on the shore. They spoke in mumbles like people cursing under their breath. With a hiss, they disappeared back into the forest.

"Phew! I almost thought I'd die there! Thanks, dude. The name is Tobi," the figure said. He grinned and extended his hand.

Crazy. It was Sam's first impression of the fair-skinned, lanky guy wearing the same shirt and pants like him. "Sam." He shook his hand. "What happened in there?"

"Dude, you won't believe this! I appeared right under their nose! Those wild men, they're the guardian of the crates!" Tobi said. His arms flailed and traced huge circles in the air while talking. "And guess what? They've already slaughtered two examinees when my eyes opened. Dude, they feasted on their bodies like madmen. No! Beasts would best describe them!"

"Hm. So death had already started its dance," Sam thought. He nodded with a grim face.

Tobi pursed his lips. "This is not good. I tried, dude. But with no weapon, I'm afraid we won't survive in that forest."

"You sound like you've already given up," Sam said. "Who told you we don't have weapons?"

"What do you mean?"

Sam pointed at his temple. "This is the sharpest weapon one could wield. I've got a plan."

Tobi's blue eyes sparkled. "Dude! You mean your brain craves danger?"

Sam smiled. "Follow me."

The two waded out of the waters. They crouched towards the eastern part of the island while staying near the shore. A massive row of black rocks loomed ahead of them.

"So, where do you live? And did they stab you with a needle too?" Tobi asked.

"Scrapes City, you?" Sam monitored the forest. "Yeah, they stabbed my leg."

"Suyac City," Tobi answered with pride in his voice. "Really? Why does mine have to be in the neck?"

Sam chuckled. "Hm. Maybe because you're too noisy... So you're a good archer?"

Tobi shrugged. "Can't help it. It runs in the blood. But wait! How did you know?"

"I read books." Sam shrugged back. "That's good. We need to find you a bow."

"Scrapes City, huh?" Tobi pondered. "But you don't look like you live on garbage food. Your body is well maintained."

Sam raised a hand, and the two of them halted. They've finally reached the massive black rocks. The sounds of blades and cries echoed from behind the rough, jagged boulders.

"Dude, we need to turn back." Tobi tugged Sam's shirt. "I don't feel good about this. Brains can't shoot arrows!"

Sam raised a finger to hush him. "Stay low and don't make any sound," he whispered.

"Please," cried a deep voice from behind the rocks. He was like that of a cornered prey—desperate. "I can be of use to you! I can be... your guard! Or you can just take the supplies. They're all yours now!"

Sam and Tobi climbed the rocks, and when they reached the top, they took a peek. Blood sprayed on the sand and lifeless bodies sprawled on the shore—men in white and those who lived in the forest.

The only ones alive were two figures. And behind them was a large stack of crates.

A well-toned guy with long black hair wielded a saber. The point of his blade sat on the throat of a portly man, who was on his knees begging for mercy.

The long-haired guy flicked the curved blade, and the portly man's head rolled over the sand. He glanced on top of the rocks with a pair of cold black eyes, catching Sam and Tobi.

"Mother of eggs! Hide!" Tobi said. But Sam pulled him back.

The long-haired guy wiped the blood from his blade using the shirt of the headless body. He took some apples from the crate and marched back to the forest.

"Can you see that?" Sam asked. His finger pointed at a dead body.

"Dude, all I see is death," Tobi said while his eyes shot arrows on the long-haired guy. "And that man! He did not even care about us. I hate his kind!"

Sam pulled Tobi's gaze and positioned it in his intended direction. Hidden beneath the body of a naked man was the limb of a bow. "Quick! Take that bow! We need to follow that man."

"What? Are you crazy? Can't you see that he had just murdered these guys? That man knows no ally!" Tobi said. But Sam was already on his way down.

Sam did not rush. He carefully passed through the dead bodies.

He made sure that there was no sign of life in them anymore. When he was certain of the situation, he sprinted towards the crates. It was the most abundant supply of food that he had ever seen in his entire life.

He swallowed everything his hands could get on—bread, crackers, dried meat, and fruits.

"Mother of Scrapes! You really came from that city!" Tobi said. His eyes were still on the forest where the long-haired guy disappeared into.

"Eat your fill. It's gonna be a long day ahead of us," Sam said in between bites. But he only ate enough. His hands transferred to the weapon crates where knives, swords, and all kinds of blade crowded. He took a belt with an array of daggers and strapped it on his waist. "This will do," he thought.

Meanwhile, Tobi stretched the string of the bow he had found. "Not bad. This can kill a worm." He took a dagger from the crate and hoisted a quiver on his back. "All right! This time, it will be us who shall chase those brutes. And I will avenge these poor souls!"

"Don't," Sam said. "That guy might come handy. We shed no blood here. Understand? Quick, he must not be that far."

The two entered the forest with a newfound sense of confidence to survive.

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room set-up like an amphitheater, figures in white coats watched with deep interest on the multiple screens in front of them. Each screen showed a different face from the island.

Of the one hundred that were sent to Death Island, only fifty remained when the clock reached its first hour.

Murmurs filled the room. Each one scouted for potential.