Unlucky

Camille is faced with a horrifying war that has been going on for too long. She and her classmates are to be pitted against each other until there is only one team left standing.

“This is no cap-and-gown graduation ceremony,” the instructor reminds us, taking three steps forward so her stomach presses against the edge of her desk. She lays both her palms down on the table, using them to support herself as she leans towards her audience. Behind her is a screen that displays the words as she speaks them. I don't think she meant to leave that function on. But there they went. The letters were big and the deep crimson color of blood; quite appropriate considering what she was about to tell us about.

 

Oh, but what, Camille, is so very terrible about graduation?

 

For you? Probably nothing. If you're normal. But if you're like me and the fifty-nine other students sitting in this classroom with me, graduation is the most feared event of your entire life. You wake up each morning, resenting the fact that the conclusion of this day will only bring you closer to your inevitable end. And trust me, this isn't just pessimistic thinking.

 

“You have all been preparing for this for the past six years of your life.”

 

Yes. Since I was sold to the Military Academy by my own parents at the age of twelve, I have been trained like a well-oiled killing machine. And for what? Six months worth of extra food rations in the beginning of a war that will probably last decades. That's a lousy thing to get out of giving up your only child. But who am I to measure the worth of extra food and one less mouth to feed with it? All I'm good for is killing.

 

“In a moment, you'll be given the names of your teammates.”

 

Teams. I have never worked in a team before. I've always been by myself. Even when I was still living with my parents. Because in a war, everyone is on their own. And this war? It's been going on for almost two decades. I don't know life during peace. I have only lived to see death and turmoil everywhere I look. To grow up like that, and then be expected to work with other people? It's like asking a cat to be friends with a dog after he's killed all of her kittens.

 

“You will have seventy-two hours to find them and discuss strategies based on your respective weaknesses and strengths. I hope you're ready.”

 

Ready? Ready! Ready for what? To die? And if not, to murder? That was the goal, ultimately. Whether you won or not. You would have to kill.

 

Now, allow me to stop for a moment and explain something. I don't know what's going on with this war. I have no idea why it was started or why we're still fighting in it, only that I am expected to. It's a fight or die world, and I was born into it. That's something I cannot help. However, I'm not just going to lay down and take it. I am going to fight as hard as I can and hope for a better future. A future where people don't live in protected bubbles and there aren't guards posted at every five foot mark and where going to school doesn't mean attending classes like Medieval Warfare and Combat With Hidden Weapons.

 

Of course, not everyone feels that way. If they did, then there wouldn't be a war at all, would there? The war began without much warning. In class, we're told that it essentially started in a council between four Council Elders; two from each side. There was a difference of opinion that divided all four, and so, just like that, they declared war. And now the entire world has been divided into four parts. Alpha, Omega, Yin, and Yang. The Alpha and Omega sectors take up the Northern half of the world, Eastern and Western sides of it respectively. Yin is the portion of the earth below Alpha, and beside it is Yang. I never learned why they were named that. In school, there was never time to teach us normal things like History. I learned how to tear a grown man's head off with my bare hands, and how to disable enemy canons. Mostly, I learned that dying in battle is the most honorable way to die.

 

At least, that's how things are run in Omega. I don't know about the other three sectors. I'm pretty sure things are very different there. If I survive graduation, I'll have the chance to find out. Joy.

 

“I'm sure you all know this already, however, I'm going to explain this game one more time. You will be divided into teams of five. You will have three days to group up and decide on a tactic. Then, each team will be transported one by one to Facultas Forest. The order in which you will enter the forest was predetermined. The weakest teams will go in first. I suggest you take your time to get to know your surroundings. From there, you will fight for your lives as well as that of your teammates. If one of you dies, you all die. Literally. You will find out exactly how later. Now, there is an envelope on each of your desks that gives you the name, housing unit location, and Interface number for each of your teammates. There is also a designated Initial Meeting Point. You need to be there within the next half hour. Good luck to you all. I hope to see you soon.”

 

The instructor's voice held very little emotion until the very last statement. Yes. She'd done this before. Looked upon 60 young faces knowing that some of them wouldn't even make it to Facultas Forest. Last year, 12 people committed suicide before even opening their letters. Kids from our class were drafted to fill their spots. None of them survived, because they were all inexperienced.

 

I grabbed my envelope and was the first to break the silence with the sound of my sneakers hitting against the tile. They were so loud. It wasn't until I reached the door that anyone else got up, but by then I was running. Not the meeting place, of course. I didn't even know where that was yet. No. I was going to my apartment building. Maybe for the last time.

 

No one else was home yet. School always lets out early the day we get our teams. I ran all the way upstairs to my room and into my bathroom. I was sick for several minutes before I finally pulled myself off the floor, flushed the toilet, and walked to the sink. I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face. I grabbed the rim of the basin and stared down into it for what felt like hours. I looked up eventually when the automatic shut-off of the water told me that only ninety seconds had passed.

 

In the mirror, looking back at me, was a pale girl with a messy gold braid that ended at the middle of her back. She had silver eyes that were currently wide in a state of shock. I wondered, in my delirium, what she was so surprised about. She had long eyelashes, but they weren't noticeable because they were too light. Her forehead was broad, though her straight-cut bangs hid it pretty nicely. The rest of her face was rather plain, sitting on top of a long neck that was attached to a lanky body, finely toned thanks to six years of training for battle. She was wearing a blue leather jacket over a plain red t-shirt and white jeans. Her shoes were green and blue sneakers.

 

Her name was Camille. She was eighteen years old, and she had very little control over her own fate.

 

I pitied that girl in the mirror. She was incredibly unlucky.

Author's Note

I already know that it's really similar to the Hunger Games, which is the reason I didn't continue writing it. I came up with the idea before I even knew what the Hunger Games was and I kind of miss Camille. I might continue it just for fun later on. This is over a year old, but it has been edited.