Something's happened.

Regularly it's Suze's job to provide everyone updates on the crazy bullshit happenings of Class 123, but as she's currently . . . out of commission, I guess it's my job.


Take it away, Alex.

I really have to get over myself

If I want to live.

You all saw what happened. Walter... fuck. Walter left.

And we all know what he is now.

But me, I couldn't leave it at that, oh no. Suze is smart. She fought back in words.

(Not that it did anything)

But me, for some reason I thought, I don't know. Was I even thinking?

So I followed him.

It doesn't get less genre-savvy than this, folks. But Walter had changed. In the moment that he had reached... some sort of realization, something turned into something else.

(I know I'm not making a lot of sense, sorrysorrysorry)

Either way. He knew. And not like my tripping and stumbling in the undergrowth made it any better.

"I assume you're not here to come with me."

He gave me a sad smile and his eyes positively shone in the moonlight and for some reason he didn't seem human anymore-

"Walter. Walter, you don't have to do this. You're being stupid."

I'm a genius, you know that? He took one step towards me, then two, and I instinctively stepped away.

Well fuck.

"I think the climax of the book will be the execution of poor old Edgar Derby. The irony is so great. A whole city gets burned down, and thousands of thousands of people are killed. And this one American solider is arrested in the ruins for taking a teapot. And he's given a regular trial, and then he's shot by a firing squad..." He looks down at the ground, still smiling softly.

"Um."

"Don't you think, Lyle, that's really where the climax should come?"

Slaughter-House Five. One of Zach's favorites. I'd read it the day after he...

"You don't have to do this, Walter, this isn't your fault!"

He tilts his head at me, and for a second I panic because I seem to have a two phrase vocabulary.

"Just because it isn't my fault doesn't mean I can't do something. You're all afraid."

Guilty.

"And I'm not a madman because I accept my fear."

And I try and look up at him, accept what he is saying.(IwillrunfrommyfearIwilloutdistancemyfearthenIwillhidefrommyfearIwillwaitformyfearIwillletmyfearrunpastmethenIwillfollowmyfearIwilltrackmyfearuntilIcanapproachmyfearincompletesilencethenIwillstrikeatmyfearIwillchargemyfearIwillgrabholdofmyfearIwillsinkmyfingersintomyfearthenIwillbitemyfearIwilltearthethroatofmyfearIwillbreaktheneckofmyfearIwilldrinkthebloodofmyfearIwillgulpthefleshofmyfearIwillcrushthebonesofmyfearandIwillsavormyfearIwillswallowmyfearandthenIwilldigestmyfearuntilIcandonothingelsebutshitoutmyfearIn this way I will be made stronger.)

"You ARE a madman, Walter. What happened to saying that you weren't giving up? That you weren't going to let anyone else give up?" And he turned away from me and muttered

"I said I wasn't a madman. I never said I was a person."

And he left me standing there. Standing there until I was so cold and numb that it didn't hurt anymore to look at the blank space that he had been standing in. I came back to camp empty handed. Richard was busy staring into space, and when he saw me, he put his head into his hands.

Everyone else was asleep.

Everyone else was awake, waiting.

And I didn't say a thing.

Need Sleep.

Still haven't gotten any since wednesday and now it's really starting to show.

Well the Collector was right about one thing it's that he's pretty good at predicting who is and who isn't going to survive. But out here is anybody really surprised when we're already short supplies and Alex and Richard come back with nothing. Not that I'm blaming them but they'd be REALLY, REALLY USEFUL right about now.

Actually.

They'd always be useful because if you haven't caught on by now it's an almost certain that we're all pretty much boned.

Three of them were lucky enough to get sick from the infections, fall asleep and just never wake up. I'm envious of them in one way but in another I guess I'm thankful I'm alive.

(I look across the camp and someone is on the ground, screaming. There are five hundred black trees surrounding the camp and I can count the leaves on every last one of them. They're twisting and writhing and they're picked up by Everyone's Favourite Faceless Bastard and torn to shreds and the blood pours like a fountain and I'm covered in it the tents are covered in and the trees are painted red, red, red and there's enough of it to put out the fire and what's left of them hangs from the once-black-now-red branches.)

One of them just managed to disappear when we weren't looking. I was with Lyle talking about what we were going to do now that we're going to run dangerously low on supplies, and Suze popped in and asked where Opal was.

(She's another one of those 'peroxide blondes' i told you about way before all of THIS happened. Cute girl with a pretty smile and sparkling blue eyes. Her boyfriend was a total douche and he didn't deserve her at all. Well now nobody has her.)

The only thing I could think about was how she would have managed to stumble out of camp with a shredded muscles in one leg and a fractured femur in the other, where she shouldn't be able to PUT WEIGHT on her foot without SCREAMING in pain let alone get out of camp unnoticed.

Then again who said she had to walk?

I heard people coughing.

(And I look at Suze and when I blink it looks like she's been literally hit by the metaphorical semi that she's mentioned. Pieces of bone jut out from where the bridge of her nose used to be and there are two empty sockets where her eyes should be with cheeks caked in wet over dried over wet blood that forms like mountains around what's left of her dimples. What used to be her scalp has been completely removed and there's grayish pink matter - as if we don't know what THAT is - dripping down the sides and her ears are bleeding heavily as well and she lets out this long moan of pain and I blink again and she's fine.)

But if there's anything good to be said about the situation it's the Nick seems to be healing nicely.

His broken ribs are slowly healing and his arms are both back in place, and other than a hair-line fracture that's already healed and a ton of ripped muscle tendons he looks like he'll be okay. He's managed to fight off the bacteria and feels like enough of his old self to be A TOTAL ASSHOLE to the classmate trying to save his life.

He's lucky I put professional practice before my OUTRAGEOUS EGO.

But the fact that his name is still crossed off worries me. I guess if I expect us all to die (OH WOW IS THAT EVER DEPRESSING) I shouldn't be bothered by it but there's something so foreboding about seeing that 1 pixel line through a name that gives it an air of foreboding.

What's that Suze says?

On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.


I don't think I've seen a shorter timeline or a lower survival rate.

Radio Silence ending in...

Three...

Two...

One...

And here I thought that we may be better off just shutting up and not saying anything, but, fuck, Chase is losing it and with most of us hanging on by a thread... It's, shit, hard to type without swearing every two seconds, because I'm not too sure what to say. What can I say? The /Collecting/ bastard seemed to sum it up pretty clearly, though real classy, implying that we're all injured or worse. Ha ha, you fucking wish.

(They're not dead yet They're not dead yet They're not fucking dead yet Why is everyone acting like they're not alive anymore?)

It came out of the night like a bat out of fucking hell. Or, at least, I'd like to say that. We were all on edge because of, well, how could you not be on edge in our situation? But we were all sitting around the fire, not really saying much of anything. Richard was chatting on about god knows what (I swear, he likes to hear his own voice more than anything), but this sense of almost calm had almost pervaded the camp like the sickness has pervaded our lungs.

Like that was going to last. There was this... rustle, this kind of crack, and everyone's heads whipped to the source so fast we all could've gotten whiplash or something.

You heard Suze mention Trent. And to be honest? She really, really didn't give him justice. I'm not sure I even can. He had just gone to the goddamn perimeter of the camp; not far out into the forest, to look at the symbols carved into what now are bloodstained trees.

I like that imagery as much as the next guy.

And we all go as white as a sheet, because he's stumbling towards us, towards Chase, all while whimpering desperately;

"helpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmeIdon'twanttodieIdon'twanttodieIDON'TWANT

TODIEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPME"

And so on and so on. And you know what? That was plenty bad enough.

(Trent was a good kid who never decided to write on the blog because "I don't want to bore the hell out of whoever is reading this out there. They deserve better than me!". He doesn't even mean anything to you, all you guys have is a name. But he played guitar, not well though; never had the time to practice. He had a girlfriend back home who was studying to be a lawyer. He had an older brother who he got along well with. He played hockey, and had talent, but wanted to get a full time job so he could get married. He did alright in our coursework, but tried harder than most of us.

And now he's dead.)

But it got worse. Of course, it got worse. The... the videos never really give It justice. It was behind him, tentacles out and ready to wreak havoc, some of the slick with (don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutit). And we just stared.

And there was this blur and this same general air of unease and someone's abdomen fell out and the screaming began and it was every man for themselves.

All things considering, it happened pretty quickly. Chase ran around, checking the bodies of those who fell for a pulse, and Richard starting barking orders and here we are.

There's just one thing that bothers me.

The Collecting bastard made a few things clear. People dead. Slender. An attack. Infection. So, assuming that the ones we have alive stay that way...

Are we going to end up having to fight our own people?

Shit. Five days ago, Richard and I were looking around the clearing, trying to find a possible way out, and he said

"It couldn't get any worse."

He was wrong. Obviously.

Now let's see if that first aid course has done me any good so Chase can get some sleep.

(At first, I didn't care. Them, not me, you know? It was knowledge versus ignorance and if they couldn't deal with it then it would be their bodies on the ground, not mine. But then I started to know their names and see their faces and get used to them, just like I got used to Zach, and suddenly they weren't faceless meatshields that would keep me from dying, and when they started to die it felt like someone had punched me in the gut and if I could I'd just let them kill me if it meant they could all get out because I've started to care.

I don't know what's worse. That none of us are getting out alive or that there's not a damn thing I can do about it, no matter how hard I try.)

Goddammit!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

We couldn't find him. We couldn't find him, goddammit, didn't find him before The goddamn FUCKING Collector got to him, shit shit shit. What the fuck was that last post about? And we stumbled on the clearing and we looked at that damn bastard in that goddamn fucking hoodie and he just didn't even say a FUCKING word, just stood there over the body, and Lyle went FUCKING INSANE and nearly beat the shit out of that asshole because he was just caught by motherfucking surprise and then Slender showed up and dear god, you idiot, what the hell did you do? I can't stop seeing the leaves now, you fucking douchebag, Lyle, god, at least I think before I do something stupid but now you've gone and.... fuck. William's dead. Fuck.

He was a good kid, too, probably followed a long time and he never cracked, took a shine to White Elephants and was constantly lurking on there. God. He was quiet and didn't say much until he found his voice this year and shit why did he run off, and why did Lyle know to go after him and fuck my head is fucking pounding. Elliot has been on the ground moaning for what seems like hours and I have to stop typing every two seconds to puke this really nasty looking black shit and our little enigmatic friend can speak for his fucking self.

Fucking hell. I'll post later when we're not all in such a mess. All quiet on the home front, at least for now.

We're going to burn the body tonight.

Rest in peace, Will. God knows you deserve some sleep.

Fight 'till the end,

Richard Battle

. . . The Collector is on our blog.

Incoming shitstorm in three . . . two . . .

To Whoever Managed To...

Hack into Zach's account?

I have no idea what you're trying to pull or achieve or... whatever. But congratulations. Because you know what? Suze flew out of her tent like a bat out of hell and started interrogating everyone and now everyone is more terrified than they already are. So well done, you fucking jackass.

And as for your little poem? I don't know how YOU fucking know this, but we have no choice but to wait. We can't seem to navigate the forest and now everyone is turning up dead-

But you would know about that, wouldn't you, Lyle? Isn't it downright easy to fool yourself? You know me, but I know YOU more. Because, you see, I'm watching. And waiting. While you try and save your own hide.

Then again, am I really one to talk?

You never found his body, did you?

No. NO NO NO NO.

You've...

No.

No no no.

NO.

Broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record broken record

Shit shit shit

what do we do?

what do we do?

what do we doooooo?

Suze was in on it

Suze was in on it

Suze was in on it AND SHE DIDN'T TELL ME

I'm next

I'm next I'm next oh god I'm next I'M NEXT I'M NEXT I'M NEXT

Ahaha.

Not going to happen, Suze, see that? I'm not falling for your little tricks and obviously there is SOMETHING YOU ARE NOT TELLING ME

I'll wait, though. I'll wait and wait and wait and wait because that's all I can do because even though I've read I still don't understand and I have to understand

why you would do

this to me

.....to us.

Hayden

Guess the cat's out of the bag.

Oh sure, I'd love to spent my time curled up in my tent sobbing my fucking eyes out over the death of my boyfriend but you all seem to have that role well and truly filled.

What the hell was I supposed to do, Lyle? You know just as well as I did what could happen going into the forest, and when Zach started slipping all you could think about was how to cover your own ass.

Christ on a bike, I never thought I'd be the voice of reason in a situation like this.

As much as I would love to sit here and wail 'Oh, woe is us! We're trapped in a forest and we've seen the deaths of our classmates and now our beloved professor has vanished!' I'm well aware of the fact that we have much, much, much worse things to worry about.

Anybody who isn't painfully genre-blind will know what I'm talking about.

[REDACTED]

There's no point in playing dumb anymore because this has reached the point of pants on head retarded and nobody seems to be able to do anything anymore. It's been five days since ... well, you know and nobody except for about seven of us (god bless you all, you beacons of common fucking sense in this otherwise abysmal pit of genre-blind, angsty university students.)

Calm, Suze, caaaaalm.


Tempers are running short, obviously. What Alex is so cheekily calling Exploration #1 (in what I pray to god isn't a House of Leaves reference) isn't helping, and while Richard goes and menaces some trees Lyle is beside himself because he knows just as well as I do we're all well and thoroughly fucked.


...







Jesus rollerblading Christ.


I always pictured the worst-case scenario of this trip being our chargers dying and the poor, defenseless peroxide blondes being left without their precious facebook.

But that's a lie, isn't it?

One of them is a brunette.

What I didn't expect was this.



Fanfuckingtastic.

To be perfectly honest, I'd like to pretend I have absolutely no clue as to neither who Tall, Dark and Slender is nor to what he wants with us, but when it comes right down to it I don't see the point in pretending. After all, he's been given fifty delicious servings of University Student à la mode and has no intention of giving us back any time soon.

Or at all.

Zach was a huge fan of the mythos. He was completely fascinated by the v/blogs and the idea of a seemingly unstoppable, reality-warping, cough-inducing Eldritch Abomination. I myself was never a fan of horror, but the vlogs seemed interesting enough and some of the blogs are very, very good.

So I suppose you could say I know what we're dealing with.

...

Nope, can't even keep a straight a face.

So I suppose you could say I'm more knowledgeable than 95% of the people here.

So I guess not all hope is lost?

Yay?

[REDACTED]

... Alex was right. Being optimistic is hard.

Speaking of Alex, you and Richard need to gather as many people as you can and meet me at center camp in ten. It's my turn to go talk some common sense into the rest of the camp and inform them about what we're dealing with. Lyle knows and I think he's just as badly in denial as I was, but with the events of this afternoon he'd be downright stupid to not accept it.


Either way, it's going to be one helluva afternoon.

Sie alle wollten mich auf meine Arbeit Englisch

Aber scheiß drauf.

Wenn wir gehen, um in einem Wald mit einem Serienmörder zu sein, als werde ich nicht meine zeit verbringen sprechen in einer launguage ich kaum verstehen.

Adelheid. Deutsch Austauschschüler.

Die Vergangenheit folgt Ihnen.

Immer.

Things are going downhill fast.

Zach's dead.
Nothing like plainly stating the obvious to get a point across.

Now there’s no reason for you to believe me, is there? No reason for you to stop and wait and look and actually give a flying fuck about what’s happening, but Suze is in shock and everyone else isn’t in the mood to update this thing. In the meantime, the blog is going haywire, all out technology is fizzing out, and Bri is sitting here on her admin account, deperately trying to sort everything out.


It started early in the morning. We hadn't seen some people in twelve hours, but figured they were drunk or high or passed out in some ditch or worse. And to be honest? We didn’t really care. Hayden insisted we search for them until Zach and I set out to find some answers.


Well, we found them alright.


[REDACTED]


And Zach just... fell over, like he had passed out. There was a ten inch boxcutter sticking out of his back.


People started to scream then. Some still haven't stopped, and I’m left here debating whether I should go try to collect Zach’s body.


God, if they could just shut up.


Zach is dead. We know this. But here’s the thing; he was the strongest and best suited out of all of us. He JUST came out of the army and was no weakling. Played videogames like a modern Adonis and could break your fingers by accident.


Somehow, he was caught by surprise.


And I’m not going to just sit here and wait for other bodies to fall into my lap.


I’m Lyle.


Nice to meet you.


Hopefully I won’t be dead by tomorrow morning.