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Now you may be wondering, who was wearing the bolo tie? Me or the shark? Answer: YES!
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((Kari Nichols continued from High Tides and High Hopes))

Sleep. It was something Kari had gone without both in her former life and this new one.

It was a funny thing to think about - calling her days on the island a new life. But that's what it seemed like. There was a disconnect there, a giant rift in time that seemed to divide two separate Karis from each other. One of them was was active, competitive, cheerful, whirling her cube around like butter in her hands, studying instead of sleeping. The other was filled with constant dread, plodding around the island in search of safety, determined not to die but not sure how long she had; stroking the barrel of her gun for comfort, unable to sleep exposed to her classmates. Neither of the groups she'd found were satisfactory. One of them was short on security and long on firepower. The other one, much briefer, was just too uncomfortable to stand. A killer had saved her life - and she really didn't know what to think. She'd put up with him just so she could get a good night's sleep, a night's sleep that was almost eternal.

Sleep. It was something Kari had gone without. But soon, she'd sleep forever.

She'd headed for the tunnels for some reason she didn't really know. They weren't pleasant, not at all. There was a body outside one of them, a boy with his head smashed in. She shuddered, turned away, closed her eyes, grabbed her gun, solved her cube, anything to calm her nerves. And then she'd headed right into the depths. Not that specific tunnel, though. A different one, as if that really mattered. She'd tried to get some rest. But sleep just wouldn't come on the rough, uneven, rocky floor. In the cold, in the dark, undercover yet out in the open - if anyone did come by, they'd find her all to easily. The tunnels were a place to hide, but there were no places to hide in the tunnels.

Ghosts. Was she hallucinating now? She hadn't hallucinated from lack of sleep, not that she remembered. And then, some ghosts-to-be, a couple of students that she'd never in a million years attack but who had to die if she wanted to live. She didn't want that. But she couldn't bear to lose.

There was nothing for it. They'd notice her one way or another, whether she tried to slip back into the tunnels or not. Could she trust them? It didn't matter, really: the burden of trust lay on those without the machine gun to back them up. The gun. Hands off of it, let it slip to the side, show it but don't brandish it. And now, put on a friendly face.

"Erm... hey."



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Ghosts · The Tunnels