"Whadd'ya mean, you don't know if the others are going to come back?!"

Chet laughed nervously. "Er... we just sent the rest of the people to their deaths and we're also going to die here because we barely know how to cook rice?"

I groaned. "You literally just killed us all."

Chet, not wanting to admit that he just cut all of our lives short, tried to deny it. "Hey, I'm sure the Heads will figure out soon enough. Besides, there are plenty of Scouts and Plankwalkers that go into the outdoors plenty of times. It's not like this'll be any different."

I gave my best cold stare. "Not all of them are Scouts and Plankwalkers, you know. Some of them are just toddlers! And besides, even if they do come back, what'll they do with us?"

Chet laughed nervously again. "Well..."

"You just got us Outcasted at best!"

"We could run away... it's possible, you know."

I shook my head. "I don't know. This was stupid of you, Chet. Really, really, stupid. And just for a little C- on your report card?"

Chet sighed. "Yeah, you're right. How about this, then? If we see them come back, we run and seek asylum at the nearest refuge. If they don't come back..."

"We're all dead, then."

Chet put his hands up in the air. "Okay, if they don't come back, we could go to the nearest refuge too. You know, tell them that our refuge got wiped out and we need to have shelter..."

I continued staring. "You do realize that if the Heads, Plankwalkers, Scouts, and other trained men couldn't reach the other refuge-"

"But maybe they just reached the other refuge and decided not to come back."

I shook my head. "I don't think they would do that. Chet, for all your planning and scheming, you literally just sent hundreds of people to their deaths. The Heads are smart, you know. They wouldn't just abandon a refuge, maybe they would send a Plankwalker to see if it's clear or not..."

Chet waited.

"Oh, this is stupid!" I exploded, kicking the computer that Chet hacked into. "Let's face it, we're stuck in this place because none of us have the guts to go outside and camp there for the night! Face it, Chet! It's suicide! There's a reason why we have refuges... nobody can survive out there! If all you care about is getting Outcasted, well, you can go into that living hell outside, but I'm staying in here where the worst thing that'll happen to me is watching dead bodies get thrown into the Junkyard!"

Chet shrugged nonchalantly. Oh, how I wanted to just kick him in the shins at this very instant. 

"Well?"

Chet finally gave in. "Okay, you're right. We'll probably last longer living on the pantry leftovers than trying to run away from deathmites anyway."

At least he was that stubborn. I gave the faintest sigh of relief. 

"C'mon, let's get out of the Simulation room before we cause any more trouble."

*       *       *

That day, we ate what was left of the cafeteria lady's food. It was the same meal over and over again - Mystery Soup, although I suspected a tinge of preserved beef in the mix.

We calculated how much we could make out of our rations - the pantry was pretty much stocked with cans and spices along with other cooking ingredients, so we decided that if we had three cans a day,

(keeps a doctor away)

we would last for several days. Then there was the water... that posed a minor problem because we only found two water tanks plus a half-empty one that they all kept in the closet, but we figured that it was enough to still last a while.

I sighed. After our few days of living on rations was over, we would have to face the inevitable truth - go outside or starve. Then there was the other alternative I didn't dare consider - we kill each other for the remaining food. Wasn't this what everything would eventually come down to, just on a larger scale? And after that, without any other way of producing more food or water, wouldn't we all go down to extinction?

I had to find a solution to the disasters, even if I would die out of it. But for now, I would be stuck with the idiot who basically killed everybody who lived in our refuge.

After our dinner, we continued scavenging whatever we could find, overturning desks and cabinets. Chet found a rifle which we weren't sure was even loaded, although I didn't see any use for it anyway. We also found one of those newly-designed maps that showed where the refuges were located and what places were unpassable. At least that would come in handy.

I have to admit, other than the map, nothing else appeared to have any use. We found a bunch of screws and wrenches and other tools in this box along with some spare change, (nope - resources are the only currency now), and a VR disc for the world that once was, as I called it. I put the VR disc back into the box. No use hanging on to the past, especially when you aren't even sure if you have a future. 

Seriously, the instructors keep some weird things. Chet found a chewed-up softball and I found this fanfic book entitled How To Survive In The Matrix. Fitting title.

By the time we were done turning the refuge into a wreck, the sun was setting and the half-destroyed analog clock that we had in the cafeteria read eight in the evening. 

"What do we do now?" I asked Chet, putting the last of the cardboard boxes back where they came from.

Chet shrugged. "Wanna go play some games in the Simulation?"

I forced myself to smile. "Ah... how about I just go to bed early?"

Chet stared, and I could tell that he never expected somebody to turn down an offer into the Simulation. "Suit yourself."

As Chet went down into the basement to plug himself in, I decided to take full advantage of our circumstances, and I could say that the Head's dorms were much comfier than ours. They were king-sized, I was pretty sure, although Chet and I would probably sleep on different ones anyway. We had a mini-cabinet beside each bed and every drawer had potato chips and magazines inside.

Makes you wonder how the instructors thought about the disasters. 

I considered retiring for the day, but I had to admit that I wasn't tired at all, so instead, I began skimming through How to Survive In Matrix, written by some overly zealous fan who called himself The Admin. Sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Admin, but your story sucks, and half of the information that you come up with sounds like complete rubbish.

Agent Smith also had a brother named Agent Appleseed, who didn't make it through the second draft of the Matrix after humanity was declared to not deserve perfect life. The ghost of Appleseed, though, envies Agent Smith and swears to haunt the digital world until-

Nonsense. I was about to shut the book when I noticed something that was reflecting light off the lamp. An audio-book. Huh, who would bother recording all this junk?

And besides, you can hardly find a working radio or disc-player these days. Does the Simulation do audios? I don't think so. Curious, I got off the bed and opened the door, only to see Chet standing there, his hand outstretched to seemingly also open the knob, his other arm carrying a giant cardboard box of the things that we found.

"I think we might need to sort these out," he says, dumping the things out the box. "I don't know how to use a rifle... do you?"

"I did paintball once," I say, not mentioning that it hurt like hell. "I think if you turn off the safety and then aim..."

I demonstrate by picking the rifle off the floor and searching for the safety pin. "See, if you just push it inwards and then press the trigger..."

A bullet suddenly shoots out of the rifle, speeding for a mere second before making a tiny hole in the wall. I give a quick prayer that the building doesn't collapse on us. "Looks like it works," I say. "Should I keep this, then?"

"You're the boss," Chet says, his eyes flickering greedily at the rifle for just a moment before he looks back at me and smiles. "Don't waste the ammo. We only have how much they put in the gun."

I shrug. "Funny, I don't know how to check on that. Let's just say... five bullets left?"

Chet makes the so-so expression. "Why not? The rifle looks like it could hold a bit more, but you'll never know."

I put the rifle onto the bed. "What else did you bring?"

Chet takes out the map. "You want to keep this, or should I?"

"You could keep it if you want," I reply. "Just don't lose it, you know."

Chet nods. "And the wrenches and screws and screwdrivers...? You think that'll help at all?"

"I'm a hoarder," I say, smiling as I take a backpack out of the dorm closet. It's empty, save a few mothballs here or there, and I can tell that the Heads forgot to take it with them when they were evacuating. "Here, put them in."

Chet seems reluctant but complies. When he's done, he takes out the VR disc and waves it in his hand. "You think this'll help at all? I don't think so - we probably shouldn't bring it."

"Bring it anyway," I say. "Weren't you the one who liked going into the Simulation?"

Chet shrugs. "Yeah, but it might be dead weight..."

I stare. "I'm not sure I understand you."

"Oh, never mind," Chet says, sighing and putting the VR back. "I'll keep it, how about that?"

I eye Chet suspiciously. "Whatever you say..."

We continue sorting the things out until Chet finally falls asleep leaning against the wall. I look at the remaining things in the box - just a few more things that probably won't be any use, but I still stuff it into my newfound backpack until it can't be stuffed anymore.

That was when I thought about the VR disc. Chet seemed to be acting strange about it... frightened, even. Out of curiosity, I put a few empty photo frames back into the cardboard box and replaced it in my backpack with the disc. Who knows? Maybe Chet is hiding something.

Should I wake Chet up? I think after I'm done sorting everything. Nah, maybe he could just sleep on the wall. Less risk than trying to drag him all the way to another room.

Yawning, I fall onto the soft, white bed and sink into a troubled sleep.

*     *     *

"Project Grail. You know what this is, don't you, Miss Dale?"

Thomas' mom nods. "It's been all over the news, how couldn't I?" And then both her and the mysterious, foggy figure that Thomas can't quite place his finger on in his dream laugh.

"Well, how good to know," the foggy figure says. "One to a hundred, that's our motto, both figuratively and literally. Do you think you're ready to test it out?"

Thomas' mom nods again. "I look forward to it. You said that once it's finished, you can sell it for as much as you want?"

The foggy figure smiles. "I'm sure we can. After all, it's everything one could've dreamed of..."

*     *     *

I wake up, startled by the sudden sound of bumping and shuffling.

Someone's here, my initial thought was.

Is it the others? Are they back?

In the middle of the night?

Nervous and relieved at the same time, I pick up my rifle from under the bed and turn the safety off, readying it is I open the door.

I don't know what I was supposed to expect. In the moonlight... the darkness... the wind and whispering trees... the horror movies that I watched always showed some monster popping out of the shadows and devouring someone. But there's nothing. Just a half-metal half-wooden hallway leading to the cafeteria, which basically connects to everything. I guess you could call it a boardroom, or a courtyard, or a central meeting ground. 

But then the shuffling comes again, followed by a bump. Things that go bump in the night... where did that come from? Raising my rifle, I walk closer to the end of the hallway...

And then I see a faint shadow pasted across the bright reflection of the moonlight through a window on the floor just in front of the exit of the hallway and the entrance of the cafeteria. Quickening my pace, I cock my rifle and spin to look at what made the shadow...

Both the masked man and I scream.

We quickly study each other. There's not much to see about this guy... black shirt, black pants, black glove, black balaclava, black EVERYTHING. The only thing I can see that's not black is his pale, scarred face. How old is he? Thirty? Forty?

"Who are you?" he rasps, pointing a thin, black-gloved finger at me. "Do you live here?"

"Who are you?" I retort, pushing my gun closer at him. "I live here, but why are you here?"

The man breathes heavily. "Are you a Head? You are too young to be a Head."

"I'm not a Head," I respond, looking around to see if anyone else is here. Yes, there's someone else on the other side of the cafeteria, one in the corner, one lurking about behind the lunch lady counter, and one behind me...

I turn my rifle towards the person behind me, who instantly puts up her arms.

"We want no trouble!" she yells, and I note that she also has black EVERYTHING, minus a much smoother, younger face. "We're Outcasts! We're looking for food!"

I spin back to the thirty-forty-year-old man. "Are you really Outcasts? I've never heard of your kind of people raiding refuges for resources."

The man also puts his hands up, as if it's a sign of peace. "Please, we aren't the only one out there. There are about a dozen or two of us... a dozen more of us outside... but we're the ones who refuse to be treated as trash just because we don't live up to their bogus expectations. Our numbers grow quickly... I wonder, little boy, why you are abandoned in your refuge alone."

"Long story," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Who's there?" Chet suddenly asks, also walking into the cafeteria and stopping when he sees me at the entrance. "Thomas? Who are-"

"We will explain later," the woman says in a silky voice. "If you come with us, we can all split the resources. Join our pack, because, after all, it looks like you won't be faring well alone here. What? Two thirteen-year-old boys?"

"I'm fifteen," Chet growls indignantly.

"Whatever," the man rasps. "Are you coming with us or not?"

"No," Chet says defiantly.

"Sure," I say at the same time. "Something tells me we're outnumbered anyway, and they have a point."

"No," Chet repeats.

"Please," I counter. "Otherwise I'm going without you." To emphasize my point, I lower my gun.

"Fine," Chet sighs, and we all walk over to the scarred man.

"Good," he says, and I can tell he's smiling behind the mask. "We'll explain everything later..."