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Courtography
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(Hannah Kendrickstone continued from Bread Suit)

Hannah had been trying to make a full circle around the island. That would be the best way to find Irene and Olivia. They could be anywhere, so she had to look everywhere. It hadn't worked. She hadn't seen anyone since she'd met Junko the day before. The announcements hadn't mentioned Tara dying, so as she had walked across the slopes, she'd had to wonder if Junko had been lying. She hadn't said how much she'd burned herself, but Hannah was still worried by it all.

Not that traveling across the dangerous slopes that separated the northeast part of the island from the southern part she was trying to go to had been smart. She'd rolled her ankle and fallen down a slope slick from the mud and the rain. She'd hit her head on a sharp rock, and the gash had just been bled and bled. She'd just lied there for a moment, crying, before she screamed and screamed at frustration and pain at the whole situation. She wasn't sure how long it had been before the screaming had changed to whimpering and she'd eventually tried to help herself. Luckily if anyone had heard they hadn't decided to find her and kill her.

She'd taken some painkillers, but her ankle even now still throbbed and her throat was still hoarse from when she'd screamed for awhile in pain and frustration. She'd bandaged the gash on her forehead, but she didn't think it helped much. She was worried that the rain would damage it and then she'd have to patch herself up again. The now slightly reddened brim of the baseball cap helped keep it dry a little, but occasionally the wind would shift and she'd be getting rain on it again.

She was almost to the building. It had taken her forever. Hannah even on the best of days wasn't in the best shape to hike across a deserted island, her injured ankle, the lack of sleep, and the fact that she was barely eating hardly helped things. When she'd tried to eat some of the bread, it had felt like glue in her mouth, and it'd taken a minute of chewing before she could get herself to swallow any of it.

She hated it all. She hated the terrorists who dropped her here with her classmates. She hated herself a little for being such a failure at finding her friends. Secretly, she was starting to hate Irene a little bit for running off, but she always tried to distract herself when that thought came up. Irene had probably just been scared. They'd all been scared by the body.

She reached the building. It looked solid, but what really interested here was the helicopter on top. For whatever reason seeing it reminded her of the police helicopter in the Baz Luhrmann adaptation of Romeo + Juliet. The modernization of the setting had been a twist, but she'd checked, and despite that it had done an amazing job of matching the dialogue and stage directions of the original play. She wouldn't want to see all of The Bard's plays adapted that way, like the attempt to do the same thing with Hamlet, but that time it worked.

She ignored the nearby corpse as she went inside to find the stairs up. The body was obviously male, so it couldn't be anyone she was looking for. It also had way too much gore, like a bad horror movie.

The pain in her ankle increased as she took the stairs up. The effort of lifting it up rather than just walking on the relatively flat land near the storehouse was more painful. She briefly considered not climbing, but she had to see that helicopter. Maybe she could tell if there were any groups nearby that looked friendly. She probably needed some help.

Her breathing got heavier as she reached the top, and she let out a cry of pain, and hot tears went down her face until they reached the scarf that was still wrapped around her lower face.

She took slow weak steps out onto the helipad.

She saw what looked like burned wood. And a body. It looked burned and unrecognizable. Burned.

"Tara?" she asked, momentarily forgetting that corpses didn't usually talk.
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Act II, Scene I · Helipad