"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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((Amanda Tan continued from Notes from An Even Smaller Island))

She’d gone right out of the asylum without thinking.

It wasn’t as if it was the worst idea in the world. It was enclosed, it was cramped, and they wouldn’t be finding any water in there.

So out Amanda went, barely caring about if the others were there following. They did, but she didn’t know why.

Where she was heading next had become a problem. She said she’d think of it later, but later was now and even as they made their way away from the asylum, she had no idea where she was going.

The beach wasn’t a bad choice, but even if they did manage to get there, what then? She doubted any of them knew how to set up a desalination plant in the middle of nowhere, and even if they did know, it wasn’t like they had the tools for it, right?

And so they just walked on, past the beach, past the bridge, past the radio tower, past half the island to god knew where.

She’d asked a couple times if anyone wanted to go anywhere in particular, but all she’d gotten was a couple shrugs and no strong answers in any direction.

They were completely lost, as if unmoored from time itself, simply wandering from place to place with no aims or objective.
And now they were here. What now?

Split up and look for clues? Yeah. That sounded good. It was something leader-like at least.

“I guess we should look for stuff. Maybe there’s a drink left over or something?” Close enough, right?

The place looked run down like everything else they’d seen on the island. Empty bottles lined the shelves, counters, chairs, a wide assortment of things she could only refer to as stuff.

There was the usual glint of cameras too, silently staring at them. They’d been watching them the entire time. Just staring at them as they made their way across the pub floor.

She let out a shriek when she came upon Tessa’s body.

“Is she- Oh my god, she’s dead.”

There was blood. Everywhere. Crimson splatters like a grade school art project gone awry strewn across the body, each and every streak drawing attention to their source, the mess that had once been Tessa's neck.

She needed to say something. She needed to calm people down. She needed to calm herself down.

She didn’t, or couldn’t, one or the other, thoughts needlessly entangled as she simply stood there, unable to do anything at all.
"I have the heart of a young boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk" -- Stephen King

Those no longer with us

It's the Grand Map of Doom! v6
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