(Day 1): Fatal Exploration

As the loudspeakers call this out, the metal bracings binding my ankles to the hard concrete release with a metallic clicking sound. I feel a surge of adrenaline rush through my veins as my instincts kick into full throttle – my body moving before my mind can form the commands. I kick off the platform, leaping forwards as far as I can. My feet pound into the ground, but I don't stop. I increase my speed, driving myself forwards ever faster. I glimpse others in my peripheral vision overtaking me, while some fall behind. I ignore them all – focusing entirely on myself – and keep running. 'Distraction means death.' I reach the edge of the concrete platform, just as the first gunshot pierces the air. A shrill scream sounds out in the air, followed by a unified realisation revealed to all; 'It just got real.'

I leap up onto the platform, gunshots becoming a constant noise as more people begin to equip themselves with powerful firearms. The deafening lead projectiles are rivalled only by the ear-splitting screams of their victims. At this point it's a game of instincts. Bullets ping my feet and I jump left, crouching behind the grey box with 'Explosives' painted across the side. My eyes widen as I read the bright red letters, my instincts taking over. I jump away from the box, dive-rolling over to the next closest one. Just as I clear the blast radius, bullets chew through the casing of the grey case. A massive explosion erupts behind me, spewing up a massive cloud of ash and fire, littering the air with shrapnel and dust. A wave of heat blasts my back, making my skin cry out in a terrible tingling sensation. A piercing scream echoes out from behind the explosion, and the gunshots surrounding my area cease. I exhale for the first time in what seems like forever.

The small, grey box in front of me has no label, its lid is also already open to the environment. I examine the contents, my eyes switching from item to item, my brain swiftly identifying each item before moving to the next. 'Dried fruit, medical kits, two grenades hanging from it, what appears to be a large foil blanket, and a small knife. Possibly used for skinning animals and such, not for combat. But it's better than nothing.' I grab the grenades, clipping them to the back of my belt. As well, I scoop up the dried fruit, shoving them into one of the pouches on my belt. Finally, I tie the medical appliances loosely onto my belt. The noises surrounding me never seem to stop. Already I can see drops of scarlet blood staining the floor, pooling from the many corpses littering the ground. I keep running into the centre of the platform. I pass bodies of both genders and varying ages, the youngest noticeably looking anywhere from around fourteen, to the oldest looking at about seventeen or eighteen years of age. 'I wonder how old I am,' I think. Bullets ping the crates behind me, surges of adrenaline driving me harder and faster. 'However, discover that later, and don't die now.' A figure pops up in my peripherical vision. A girl with bright red hair and pink eyes. 'Strange. I don't recall pink being a natural eye colour.' The girl stands over a dark-haired boy, who is cowering in the shadows and whimpering with pain. 'But then again, neither is purple.' She brings up her right arm. Clutched between her fingers is a gleaming, razor-sharp dagger. With a swift movement, she brings it down into his forehead. He takes a final breath and falls over. Dead. She looks over at me, a fierce bloodlust in her eyes. I keep running, leaving the bloody scene behind me.

Every now and then, I stop to look in a crate. They all seem to be either empty or have nothing of use in them. For example, ammunition rounds for guns that I don't have. The deeper I go, the higher the stacks become. In some places, they begin to go higher than my head. A flash of movement from behind the boxes in front of me. A figure leaps out of the shadows, a flash of gleaming steel curving towards me. 'A knife.' It plants itself into the fleshy part of my left arm, penetrating a few centimetres deep. I cry out in pain, forcing myself to stay on my feet. Another flash of light, another deadly steel projectile. With a sharp movement, I lurch to the side. Reaching down with my right hand, I unclip one of the grenades fixated to my belt. I attempt to life my left hand to pull the pin, but the pain forces me to keep it at my side. Instead, I pull the pin with my teeth, launching it as hard as I can towards the boy in front of me. It strikes him in the chest. Horror fills his eyes. But the grenade falls to the floor harmlessly. I look at it in confusion, then anger, then defeat. The boy's horror turns into a mocking grin as he retrieves another knife from the belt around his hip. He readies it in a throwing position, when suddenly, the grenade erupts in cloud of white smoke.

The boy coughs and drops his knife, covering his mouth with his hands as he stumbles through the screen. Seizing the opportunity, I grasp onto the hilt of the knife buried in my arm. With a sharp tugging motion, I free it. Feeling the cold steel slide past my hot red flesh, I force down the screams and lunge at him with the knife. With the blade outreached, it sinks into the tissue right in the centre of his chest. Penetrating deep into the vital organ which lies there – the heart. He falls to the ground limp almost immediately. I pull out the knife, studying the weapon. It is quite nice. The blade is about fourteen centimetres in length and three centimetres in width. It has a serrated portion near the hilt that could be used for cutting rope, or even tree branches. I wipe the blood the blood off the and hang it on my belt, wincing at the pain in my arm with every motion. I quickly turn over his body and search his clothes. He has a backpack on. I rip it off his shoulders, throwing it awkwardly around mine. I don't bother checking what is inside. 'This is my que to get out of here,' I think, still fearing for my life. 'At any time, someone - or something - could emerge from any direction. Around any of these precarious corners.' I clutch my arm and run back down the way I came. 'Whatever else is down there isn't worth my life.' I keep running, thankfully not crossing anyone else. Every gunshot makes my heart sinks a little deeper into my chest. Flinching every time, without fail. I reach the edge of the raised platform and cross over the ring of podiums. Without hesitation, I throw myself towards the closest opening in the maze. It's covered with thick green vines, debris scattered across the floor everywhere which-way you turn. 'I need to be careful where I step,' I think. My foot catches on a loose vine and my body lurches forwards. I only just manage to catch myself with roughly thrown-out hands. 'What did I just say?' I mentally scold myself, pushing myself to my feet with my sore and already battered arms. The knife wound in my arms pulsates with pain, and more hot sticky blood courses down the length of the battered limb. Shots ring out behind me. I risk a glance back. A brown-haired boy about the age of sixteen is chasing after me, a pistol in hand.

Shots pelt the floor and walls around me, pelting into the concrete with such velocity that clumps begin to crumble away, scattering the floor with small stone chips. It seems like silence will be forgotten forever. Death cries patch the gaps of sound that aren't filled with the radiating gunshots and screams echoing throughout the area. Infront of me, the passageway I am running through takes a sharp right turn. An idea crosses my mind. I reach down, snatching the last grenade off my belt. I rip the pin out with my teeth and spit it to the side. I fling around the bend, throwing the grenade behind me. It bounces off the wall with a dull 'clunk!' A second later, it lands on the ground. Right in the centre of the bend. The kid comes into view behind me, just as the grenade goes off. A large screen of smoke erupts forth from the metal canister. The smoke covers the width of the passage, crawling up a dozen metres high. The smoke slowly dissipates, but I don't stand around and wait for it. Hot chunks of lead zip out of red smoke screen, zooming past me. All of them being completely off course. The gunshots cease.

"He needs to reload," I mutter under my breath. I dash to the side of the smoke screen, sitting on the outskirts of the gas. I pull out my dagger, hearing the approaching sound of footsteps growing audibly louder. I smile to myself, a grim sort of smile. 'The hunt-er is about to become the hunt-ed.' The teenager steps out of the smokescreen, and I lunge at him, much like how I dispatched the other kid. But this time, I get dodged. I stumble past him, whipping around just in time for the hilt of a gun to fill my vision. A hard pressure slams into my forehead, causing me to stumble backwards. My shoulder impacts the wall, which I use to stabilise myself by firmly planting my hand on the cold hard wall. I adjust my grip on the blood covered knife, the warm, sticky red substance causing my hand to slide up and down the hilt. Once I establish a firm connection between my hand and the knife, I thrust forwards in an awkward lunge. The teenager standing in front of me makes no move to shoot, but instead drops his gun and grabs my arm, pushing it off course. His left fist smashes into my left arm – right where I got previously stabbed. I howl in pain, the already slippery dagger falling from my grasp. A small spark emanates from where the metal blade impacts the floor. With a swift, smooth movement, the boy leans down and snatches it up off the red-stained concrete floor. 'The tables have turned to my disadvantage… again.' I clutch my arm and squeeze hard, stopping the flow of precious lifeblood from oozing out of me. Like a maggot emerging from its food source. I turn to run away now, digging my heels into the concrete as hard as I can. 'I'm going to feel that in my feet later. Survival is my only priority now, though.'

"Hey!" His angry voice emanates out to me. I don't look back. Without hesitation, I fling the backpack of resources off my shoulders to rid the weight. It drops to the floor with a light "thump!" More corners in the passageways appear in my peripheral vision. I choose my way randomly, throwing myself in each direction and not stopping for a second to slow down. Sidestepping past all the corners and keeping on running. Just when I start to think that I will never outrun them, the footsteps behind me begin to slowly fade into the distance. Eventually, I can't hear them anymore. Only then do I finally stop to rest my weary, broken body.