The Kill Factor, page 18
She had uploaded the videos anyway. Her big idea was to review reviewers. She would watch videos of people reviewing the latest products and movies and toys, and she would review their review. Okay, it wasn’t the greatest idea, but she couldn’t afford to buy things to review, and she couldn’t afford to see movies, so it was her only option. The hate she got for the quality of the footage, the poor sound, the ugliness of her room, her lack of charisma, the fact that she was so plain-looking—it hurt. It hurt a lot. She deleted her account after uploading five videos, but nothing is ever gone from the internet forever, and a group of boys in Stone’s Throw High School found her old content and shared it with everyone. She was already the girl who stole money, and now she was the thief who failed to grow an audience, the magpie without a brand.
“I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how cruel people can be,” Emerson started, looking into the lens of the drone. “We turn on each other and hurt each other and ridicule each other. Why? I think there are two reasons: The first is to feel better about ourselves. My friend Never helped me to see that. The second reason is because we’re all so scared that we will be the focus of the hate that we push it away from ourselves and onto other people. Bullies are the biggest cowards of all. I know that sounds like a cliché, but it’s true. Bullies are so scared of being hurt that they build shields of hate and cruelty to stop it from coming back at them. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t pity bullies. I don’t feel bad for them; they can all go to hell as far as I’m concerned. Just because you’re a coward doesn’t mean you get to ruin people’s lives. Anyway, the biggest bullies of all are the people who set up this game show. Forcing kids to entertain you, hurting and killing kids for amusement … how weak and pathetic must you be to do something like that? I know this won’t affect them in any way, because people who are willing to do something like this must lack any trace of empathy, but I want them all to know that the good, decent people of the world think that you’re demons from hell.”
Emerson smiled suddenly and brightly at the camera. “Thanks for watching.”
After her sarcastic sign-off, the camera drone stopped recording and disappeared.
Emerson watched the others. A camera drone hovered over Cobalt as he squirmed and moaned in pain; Gwen continued to tease her viewers, asking them if they’d like her to take off an article of clothing; Teller did shirtless sit-ups; Imelda emoted and laughed away, but there was less energy from everyone now. The weight of all the death and destruction had finally gotten to be too much.
When the diary recording ended, the leaderboard hadn’t changed much at all. Everyone had gained a few thousand more followers, but no one had overtaken anyone else.
“Congratulations on getting into first place,” Imelda called over to Gwen.
“Uh, thank you,” Gwen replied, pushing her pink hair behind her ears.
“Of course, I could easily get the top spot back if I bribed viewers with promises of showing my naked body too. Pathetic.” Gwen lowered her head and bit her lower lip as Imelda continued. “Honestly, what you’re doing is basically prostituting yourself. Are you proud?”
Gwen spoke quietly. “What am I supposed to do? The viewers stopped caring about my and Harlow’s pranks after the first day. I’m not beautiful. I’m not charismatic. I’m not talented. I’m not the type of person who others gravitate toward, so I guess that means I’m worthless. How is that fair? I’m shy and I don’t know how to be funny, so I don’t get to have nice things? I don’t have any other options, Imelda. Either I take my clothes off or I fall behind. Those are my choices.”
Imelda didn’t speak for a while. She appeared to steel herself against whatever emotions were trying to break free. “Yeah, well, they’ll get bored of you soon.”
The Producer walked onto the beach and addressed the contestants.
“Contestants, you have completed your third task, and completed your daily video diaries. The footage is being aired as we speak; soon we will take a snapshot of the leaderboard to find out which of you will be facing Tanya Moon in the viewer vote. Once again, I want to thank you for making this episode the best yet. Well done. Now let’s find out who today’s winner is. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four …”
No one joined in the Producer’s countdown, and yet he was so animated and full of energy that you’d think he was standing on a stage in front of a stadium full of adoring fans.
“… three, two, one, zero! Congratulations to today’s Kill Factor leader, Gwen Perez!”
Emerson and a few others clapped to counteract the silence from Imelda and her crew, of which Gwen was clearly no longer a part.
The crackle and pop of the fireworks juxtaposed the look of shame on Gwen’s face as the Producer put an arm around her.
“How does it feel to be at the top of the leaderboard with so many fans?” he asked.
“It feels great,” Gwen said without any emotion at all.
“I bet it does. Now, Gwen, you were invited onto The Kill Factor because of mistakes you made in the past, is that right?”
“That’s right,” Gwen said, nervously pushing her pink hair behind her ears.
“What were those mistakes, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Gwen looked at the Producer and then down at the sand. “I killed a girl.”
There was an audible gasp from several people on the beach.
“And how do you feel about that now that you have gone through several steps of rehabilitation?”
Gwen seemed to think about it for a while. “I wish I hadn’t killed her. I didn’t mean to kill her. I hit her and she fell … She bullied me every day, made my life miserable, laughed at me, slapped me, mocked me, turned my friends against me. But she didn’t deserve to die. She was a bully, but she didn’t deserve to die.”
“And do you think the process of The Kill Factor has changed you?” the Producer asked.
Gwen raised her eyes and looked at Imelda. “I still hate bullies, but I wouldn’t kill anyone.”
Imelda seemed to shrink back into the growing darkness.
“Congratulations once again, Gwen Perez,” the Producer said, and then turned to face the remaining contestants. “Now, it falls on me to announce the contestant who ended the day with the least number of followers: The contestant who will be joining Ms. Moon in the viewer vote is … Gamble Delaney.”
The spotlight drones shone their beams on Tanya and Gamble, and Emerson wondered what task the Producer would set up to make the contestants fight for votes. Whatever it was, she was glad she wasn’t a part of it, and she was glad that Kodi was safe too.
Emerson lay in her bed, watching the stars burning high above, and thought about how there was no happy ending to all this. She and Kodi would be dead or in prison by the time the games were over. She had come to this island with the sole objective of earning enough followers to get Kester through college, and she had gone and fallen in love. It wasn’t fair.
Just an hour earlier, Tanya Moon had been escorted off to the prison. She had stood onstage for three minutes alongside Gamble Delaney as the Producer asked them each to share their most embarrassing moment, in a last-ditch effort for the viewer vote. But Tanya had refused, instead staring defiantly past the cameras that hovered around her while Gamble proceeded to share a memory of his first year of high school, a Halloween party in the woods where the popular crowd had convinced him to wear a bunny costume to match his big teeth. They then abandoned him the woods. It was clear that Gamble had won, and yet the Producer drew it out anyway, finally announcing the outcome.
Emerson felt a kind of sadness creeping over her—no, it was more than sadness; it was hopelessness, desolation, despondency.
Never was right. They were trapped.
The night drifted by in restless slowness. The only sound other than the steady crash of the waves was the sound of Cobalt crying and moaning at the pain in his leg. The short bursts of sleep that Emerson did manage to get were filled with terrifying dreams that faded away like old photographs burning on a fire, until all she could remember was the sense of helpless dread.
When morning finally broke, Emerson stayed in bed, feeling the horrible heat of the sun baking down on her. In her mind, she listed the dead.
Wolfgang Jorgensen, Carter Boyd, Juliette Star, Zach Dobler, Levi Russo …
She thought about their faces as they passed through her mind: alive and vibrant and happy.
… Harlow Wozniak, Billie Joe Walker …
They had personalities, ambitions; they made mistakes; they loved and hated and … and now they were dead.
… Cameron Angus, Hugo von Hugo, Vintage Patel …
“Hey, Em, you staying in bed all day?” Emerson let the faces of the dead contestants float away, and she turned her eyes to Kodi. Despite the deep chasm of depression that had opened up in her mind, she felt a spark of light at the sound of his voice.
“I was considering it, yeah,” she replied.
“I don’t blame you,” Kodi replied. “I thought about the same thing.”
“Oh yeah? What got you out?”
“I don’t know, really. Maybe hope got me out. Maybe I still believe there’s a way out of all this.”
“Hope?” Emerson said, and laughed. “What hope?”
Kodi laughed too. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hope is like … I don’t know, hope is like an addiction, don’t you think? You’d need a nicotine patch to get off it.”
Emerson nodded. The phrasing struck her as strange, though. She had heard the term nicotine patch only twice in her life, and both times were in the last week … A thought struck her in that moment, and she looked into Kodi’s eyes. He replied with a subtle nod. He was trying to tell her something.
“Yeah,” Emerson said, trying to maintain a natural facade. “Hope is a tough addiction to shake.”
“Definitely,” Kodi agreed. “We should have a group meeting of all the addicts on the island. We can meet at three p.m. and say things like, My name’s Kodi, and I’m an addict.”
Emerson nodded again. “Yeah, count me in.”
She felt adrenaline rushing in her bloodstream now. Of course, the Nicotine Patch service that the cruise ship offered. What had Tiger said? Something about how they interfered with electronic signals so people couldn’t use them to send out live broadcasts. If they could get some of those Nicotine Patch drones onto the beach, they would interfere with the actual camera drones and maybe … maybe they could escape? Emerson didn’t know what Kodi’s final plan was. The one thing she knew was that hope really had come back.
Time slipped by fast and slow.
Emerson watched Kodi go from contestant to contestant, trying to surreptitiously get across his message of sabotage, and she readied herself.
When the time finally came, and the light on the island was beginning to turn golden, six contestants gathered at the shore: Kodi, Emerson, Never, Tiger, Alasdair, and Nick.
“Time travel is real, you know?” Nick said, grinning madly at the group. “Oh yes. It was invented more than a hundred years ago, but the world government doesn’t want you to know about it.”
There was an uncomfortable ripple among the other five.
“Right, okay,” Kodi said, finally, and then turned to the group. “I’m going for a swim,” he said. “I miss that old cruise ship. I think I want to get close enough to get a good look.”
And with that, he stripped down to his underwear and ran into the undulating waves.
Without hesitation, the others followed his lead while Never stayed behind on lookout.
The water was cold, seemingly too cold for the hot summer’s day, but the temperature change was welcome on this hot afternoon.
As she swam, Emerson looked out into the water in front of her, watching for killer jellyfish or whatever else might be lurking in the blue waves.
They swam for five full minutes before catching up with Kodi, who had stopped and was treading water. The Calypso sat shimmering fifty yards away. All around them, camera drones buzzed and hummed.
Kodi looked around at those who had joined him. He shrugged, and then yelled out as loud as he could. “Calypso! Nicotine Patch!”
Emerson joined in, screaming the words as loud as she could. And then all of them were yelling out for the cruise ship’s artificial intelligence to hear them and give them what they were asking for.
Finally, after thirty seconds of shouting, they all fell silent, and waited.
Nothing happened.
The buzz of the camera drones remained constant and maddening; the roar of the rolling ocean boomed quietly around them.
“Shit,” Alasdair whispered.
“Wait,” Tiger said. “What’s that?” She lifted a shimmering finger out of the water and pointed to a speck in the sky that grew as it approached.
And then there were more of them. The Nicotine Patch drones that had been designed to appease the addiction of attention were flying toward them. And when the first one got within ten yards of Kodi, all the camera drones that surrounded him dropped away, falling into the ocean.
“It’s working!” he yelled.
Emerson watched as one of the drones flew high up into the sky and a strange thing happened. A seagull that was flying above the drones disappeared for a moment and then came back as the drone went by. Emerson blinked and shook her head. Salt water must’ve gotten in her eyes.
The other Nicotine Patch drones arrived, and for the first time since waking up in a coffin on that godforsaken artificial island, they weren’t being filmed. They whooped and celebrated and hugged one another. Kodi swam over to Emerson and kissed her, his fingers running through the wet, matted hair at the back of her head.
“We have to go,” he said, looking into Emerson’s eyes, and then—forcing himself to break away from Emerson—he spoke to the group. “We have to get back to the island as fast as we can. If these things are powerful enough to shut off all the other camera drones, there might be a chance.”
They began to swim as fast as they could, kicking their legs and carving out paths in the water with their arms.
“What are you going to do once the cameras are out?” Emerson asked, drawing alongside Kodi.
“I’m going into that hatch beneath the heart-tree, and I’m going to kill anyone I find.”
Emerson felt her heart thunder in her chest. “If you kill them, you’ll be exactly what they said you are: a criminal.”
“I didn’t come to this island as a murderer, Emerson, but their idea of rehabilitation might have turned me into one.”
“Think about this, Kodi. There’s got to be another way.”
“There isn’t. If I take them out, the rest of you can get out of here.”
And with that, he sped up, pulling out in front of the others and making it to the beach first.
Emerson watched as Kodi picked up the sharpened stick that the latecomers had made to spear fish, and stormed toward the heart-tree.
As Emerson, Alasdair, Tiger, and Nick made it to the beach, all the camera drones dropped out of the sky.
“Hey! What’s going on?” Imelda asked, and then pointed to Kodi. “Where’s he going? What is this?”
Emerson ran after Kodi and grabbed his hand. “Wait! Just listen.”
“We’re not going to get another chance, Em! This is it!”
“What are you doing?” Imelda screamed. “You can’t do this! You can’t ruin this for me!”
Emerson and Kodi ignored her. “Try to find another way, please,” she said, and for a moment, there was a look of hesitation in Kodi’s eyes.
“Stop them! You have to stop them!” Imelda cried. And before anyone could react, Teller slammed into Kodi, throwing him to the ground so violently that the spear went flying from his hand and landed in the sand twenty feet away.
“No!” Emerson cried, and Teller began to hit Kodi over and over again.
She tried to grab Teller and drag him away, but he was too big, too strong.
“Emerson, go!” Kodi yelled as a fist slammed into the side of his head. “This is our only chance!”
Emerson tried again to pull Teller away, but he didn’t budge. She reared back and kicked him in the side, but he didn’t flinch; he just kept on hitting Kodi, who had managed to free one arm and was trying to block the punches.
“Now!” Kodi screamed.
And Emerson ran. She tried not to think, tried not to wonder what happened next. She grabbed the spear from the sand, and ran to the hatch beneath the heart-tree.
Emerson ran so fast that she was ahead of the Nicotine Patch drone when she made it to the hatch.
She pulled on the hidden handle. It didn’t budge at all.
Locked, she thought. It was all for nothing.
But as the Nicotine Patch drone caught up with her, it short-circuited whatever electronic mechanism was keeping the hatch shut, and it flew open so suddenly that Emerson fell back into the plastic roots and fake fallen leaves.
She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the spear, and looked down at the steps that descended into a bright white tunnel below.
She froze in fear for a moment, wondering what fate awaited her at the foot of those stairs. “Go,” she whispered to herself, and then she was running.
The entire tunnel was made of thick white plastic. The sound of her footsteps fell flat in the seemingly endless tunnel at the foot of the stairs. Round light fixtures were molded into the walls, giving off bright, lifeless light that made the tunnel look infinite.
As she ran, her mind went out to Kodi, and she hoped he would be okay, but she reminded herself of his words: This is our only chance. And she ran faster.
Finally, she reached another set of stairs. This one was identical to the one she had climbed down at the start of the tunnel, only it went up to the surface instead of down.
She climbed the stairs, stumbling in her adrenaline-fueled efforts. When she got to the top, a second locked hatch clicked to open as her Nicotine Patch drone came near.
