Walton raised his arms and held them outstretched. “Beep, beep.”
“Stop that,” Lyla snarled.
“Beep, beep.”
“Stop that!”
“I am an antenna to signal the coast guard.”
“Walton, sit down, man,” Tom urged him.
Walton shrieked, “BIRDS LIVE ON YOUR HEAD!” He flung himself over and began tugging on Tom’s hair, the sudden shift in weight rocking the raft violently, nearly capsizing them.
“Aah! Stop!” Tom fended him off with the oar end of their spear, and Walton retreated to the other side of the raft. Tom’s scalp felt hot and sore, and he pressed his hand up to discover a bald spot. “Come on, man! You tore out some hair!”
“It’s okay. I’m a doctor,” Walton replied.
Vik stirred from where he’d fallen into a delirious sleep. “Doctor?”
“Yes?” Walton said, perking up.
“No!” Tom said, holding up the spear end this time to keep Walton back. He leaned over to nudge Vik. “Hey, Doctor. I’m here.”
“Not you.” Vik’s voice was as hoarse as Tom’s. “Real doctor. Think I’m sick. Water.”
“We don’t have water. This is a sim. It’s not real, remember?”
“Right. Sim.” Vik heaved himself up painfully. It took him several moments to get enough energy to say, “I hate this sim.”
“We’ll win or die and it’ll be over.” Tom knew that was optimistic, though. He wasn’t sure how to win.
“Hate it,” Vik moaned.
They’d all gone over it a bunch of times. This whole sim was ultimately rigged against them. Yosef’s group, playing sharks, were in their natural environment. They had stuff to eat, plenty to drink, and they could survive the ocean elements. Their group had nothing. They’d bunched some seaweed up to try luring down seagulls, but the birds kept their distance. Vik dragged his shirt in the water, then tried some of the plankton he caught, but it made him violently vomit over the side of the boat, which was really counterproductive when they were all dying of dehydration.
The most water they could get was from the condensation on the raft first thing in the morning, and even that tasted like salt. And Walton’s madness wasn’t helping anything. He was reaching into the air now, swatting at something only he could see. Lyla sighed and asked what he was doing.
“Bats,” Walton said, agitated.
“You should jump in the water and let the sharks eat you,” Lyla suggested. “You’re basically dead already. Worse, you’re annoying me.”
“No, I’ll survive. I have gnome minions. Just nearby. They’ll rescue us.”
Lyla sighed. “Walton, you do not have gnome minions.”
“You’ll see. I’ll go get them.”
Then Walton hurled himself into the water with a resounding splash. Tom, Vik, and Lyla all waited for his scream, but it never came. Soon, he’d swum so far Tom couldn’t see him. For a delirious moment, Tom marveled at the clean escape Walton had made. His water and food-deprived brain tried to wrap around it, and all Tom could think for a long moment was that Walton truly did have gnome minions out there, helping him.
Then fins cut their way through the water, and Walton’s scream rose in the distance, killing that fanciful idea.
“Ugh.” Vik threw his hands over his eyes. He leaned back on the raft, tugging at his shirt like he was hot, even though his teeth were chattering. “This is awful. So we have to live through getting eaten by sharks, or we die slowly and painfully of dehydration. Guys, there’s only one option here.” Vik rallied his strength and sat up. “We can’t win. Let’s all . . . you know. Kill each other somehow.”
“It’s bound to hurt less than the sharks,” Lyla muttered.
Tom found his eyes riveted to the bloody spot in the water where Walton had been, the way the sharks were frantically swarming over it. All simulations as animals involved a battle between the powerful instincts of the creature they played and the deliberate human mind. Yosef’s group was staying clear of their raft because their human minds told them they’d get stabbed.
Tom could see how frenzied the blood had made them. What if they did something to create that frenzy on purpose, so those animal instincts would truly take more control over them?
“Guys, I have an idea.” Tom was excited. “What if we wait till Snowden reappears, we kill him, and we use his body as shark chum, and stab Yosef’s group when they get lured in?”
“I’d pay to see Snowden killed,” Vik exulted.
Lyla cackled evilly. “Shark chum made of Snowden. It would be so perfect.”
It sounded like a plan to Tom.
When Snowden reappeared, Tom was ready. He gutted Snowden with one brutal thrust of his spear. Then he seized the thrashing blond kid before he could tumble overboard, and pinned his body to the floor of the boat, rancid water sloshing around them. “Okay, he’s bleeding out fast. We should tilt him over the water or something—”
Tom blinked at her. “Are you crazy?” Lyla shouted at him.
“What? We talked about this.” He looked at Vik. “You said you’d pay to see it!”
Vik’s eyes were wide. He appeared torn between laughter and horror. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
“Oh my God,” Lyla exclaimed. “I thought you were joking, you psycho!”
“What? What’s the big deal?” Maybe dehydration was frying his brain, but Tom was truly bewildered now.
“You’re not supposed to kill our group leader, you moron!” Lyla exclaimed.
“We’re supposed to kill all the sharks, and we need shark chum for that.” Tom scooped up a handful of the bloody water and tossed it overboard. “This is great shark chum.” He could see fins cutting through the water toward them. “See? They’re already going for it.”
“The big deal,” she growled, “is that the shark chum is made of Snowden! If you were so eager for shark chum, you should’ve been the chum yourself, or I could’ve thrown you in! You can’t kill our instructor.”
“Why should I jump in?” Tom said disbelievingly. “Snowden got us into this. He wasn’t helping us, and he drank our water!” That infuriated Tom the most. “He didn’t even need it, and he drank it anyway. He was far and away the most expendable, useless person here, leader or no.”
Lyla groaned. “Karl is right: you are such an idiot. Do you even realize the whole point of these sims is to impress people in the military?”
“I think winning will impress the military more than losing,” Tom retorted.
Vik was shaking with a tired, giddy, delirious sort of laughter. “Tom, I love you.”
Lyla punched Vik’s arm. Hard.
Vik kept laughing. “This is so great. I’d cry with the joy of it if I could.”
Lyla punched him again. This time, it really must’ve hurt, because Vik scuttled away from her to the other side of the raft. “Hey! No being violent to me unless you want me hitting back.”
“Oh, please do. I was going easy on you, but I’d love a chance to let loose. These are registered lethal weapons, you know.” She held her fists up menacingly.