A book I wrote over the summer... I don't have any new ideas to continue it, but here's what I have.

I don't know why we do it. I don't remember who sent us out or why we were the group chosen to Find...we just were.

But it doesn't matter who.

Because if you stop to think in the Lost...

They'll get you.

Prologue

Fourteen years ago, when I was just one year old, the World War destroyed everything. The North American Weapon had obliterated the entire South Eastern Hemisphere, leaving a barren wasteland. The radiation killed off all in range, chopping Asia's population in half. Those in the northern areas escaped to the Underground, and have lived there ever since.

Soon enough, the entire world was living Underground, far below the Surface. And not just because of the War's aftermath. Things happened up there while we humans were gone. Unexplainable things.

Four years after everyone went Underground, we realized we were running out of resources. So Coalitions were formed to share and protect the limited resources we had. And then, another year after that, it was realized that untouched resources were waiting on the Surface.

So Coalition G sent up a small group of survivors up to collect them.

But then Coalition X got jealous and sent up a bigger group to take the resources from the G's.

The G's locked all the resources in a huge coffer and met the X's in battle.

The X's won, but the key was lost.

And then all the X's mysteriously never returned.

In the years since, all 25 Coalitions have sent up numerous Scavenger groups, collecting small Artifacts before the group is killed and replaced by another. Each Coalition finds amazing things. Small, intricate little trinkets that would normally be overlooked. But each Coalition is hoping to Find the Master Artifact.

Each Coalition is hoping to Find the Resource Key.

Chapter One

"And the new Scavengers for Coalition Y...is...Group 2-94!"

The words rang through my ears.

2-94...that's my group. Were we seriously just Selected for the suicide mission?!

I followed our group's Leader, Griffin, with the rest of the group in tow, up onto the raised platform.

We lined up in order of Occupation, staring out into the audience.

"Can we please have your name and Occupation, please?" The woman asked. She seemed a little too cheery for my taste.

"Griffin, The Leader." Griffin said flatly.

How'd she like to taste my fist...

Griffin handed me the microphone.

"Oh," I mumbled as I caught the small black cylinder. "Um, Witt...The Keeper." I adjusted the satchel by my side as I handed the mic to Quentin on my left.

"Quentin, The Recorder." He mumbled loudly before passing it on.

"Finn, The Hunter."

"York, The Gatherer."

"Orion, The Cook."

The lady took the microphone the split second after Orion finished. "Well isn't that lovely."

"Is it?" Griffin mumbled next to me.

"Okay everyone, our Scavengers have to go get ready to search the Surface for the Master Artifact now." This lady's tone was really starting to get on my nerves. It was like she was talking to a four-year-old. "So say goodbye, and give it up one more time for Group 2-94!"

The cave erupted into thunderous applause. The lady led us off the platform to a room behind it.

She opened the door and watched us file in. "Your Prep Team will be with you shortly." And she shut the door, as if severing our last connection to Coalition Y.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Approximately five minutes later, the door opened again and six people walked in. They had huge tote bags over their shoulders, and they were chatting and giggling nonchalantly.

The one in front shushed them and regarded us. We all sort of involuntarily curled behind Griffin like he was a tree for us to hide from these people.

"Hello, lucky Group 2-94." He said with excessive hand flourishing. "Before you go up to the Lost, you must have all your essentials. Prep Team!" He clapped his hands. "Prep!"

A tall but wide lady sauntered over to me, her lips pinched in a juicy smile. "Hey sweetheart. Lets get you suited up, huh?"

She sat me down and opened her tote bag. "First we get rid of this thing." She took my Training Satchel off. The gray fabric was fraying, and there was a small hole opening in the bottom from the years of Training. She tossed the old bag over her shoulder and started on my clothes.

A little uncomfortably, I stripped down to my underwear as the lady dug through her tote. She handed me black cargo pants and I pulled them on quickly. Then she gave me a pair of thermal socks and combat boots. She finally gave me a thin button-down shirt. Usually I hate wearing those things, but something was different about this one. It seemed like it was ready to be moved around in.

Lastly, she handed me a brand new satchel. It was brown, and in perfect condition.

She draped it over my shoulder and stepped back to regard me. She smiled. "You're going to be the handsomest boy up in the Lost. Ah, I'm amazing."

I sat back. "Wait, don't you mean The Surface?"

The lady gave me a look. "What?"

"You said in the 'Lost'."

"Okay everyone, exit through that back door. Grab a backpack on your way out, and good luck!" The main Prep guy announced.

As I was swept out the door with my group, the lady said, "It's called the Lost. Who calls it The Surface anymore?"

>>what I have of<< Chapter Two

We entered a dimly lit hallway to find backpacks lining the walls (three on each side) and a door on the other end. I grabbed the bag that was under the word Keeper that was embossed in the wall. The backpack was light and a good size - not awkward to carry, but large enough to hold a good amount of food and other things.

I opened the bag and found two knives laying in an X on the bottom of the fabric. One was long and the other was slightly shorter, each with a black, ribbed, rubber grip.

"Lets go guys," Griffin said quietly. We silently followed him out the door on the other end of the hall. He opened the door and revealed a set of stairs ascending into blackness. He lead us up the steps for a full

five minutes until he hit his head on the ceiling.

"Ow," he recoiled, holding a hand on top of his head. "Is this a joke? The stairs lead straight into the ceiling."

"I doubt it." I cautiously walked up to Griffin's side, placing my hand on the ceiling above me so I wouldn't hit my head. I pushed, but the roof above me wouldn't budge.

"Huh," I stepped down one step, thinking. "That's weird."

"Here," Finn, the most violent out of all of us (if I had to choose), stepped forward, knife in hand. He stabbed upwards a few times, a dull ringing sound emitting from each strike.

"Finn, stop before you make us all deaf!" Griffin shouted.

"Here let me try," York stepped up and put his palms up against the ceiling. He slowly ran his hands along the roof until he suddenly stopped near the far end. He ran his fingers back over a section he had just covered, and held out his free hand.

"Finn, give me the knife." Finn hesitated for a second, and then parted with his blade.

York brought the knife up to his other hand and stuck the tip into some sort of slot. He jiggled it around until we heard a soft click.

Just as York was about to hand the knife back to Finn, the ceiling opened upwards, arcing into the sky and streaming in blinding light.

The only light I've seen for fourteen years has been fluorescent. We've been underground for almost as long as I've been alive, and finally seeing sunlight again almost melted my eyeballs.

I heard Finn's knife clatter to the stairs from York's hand as we all blocked our eyes with our hands.

The ceiling panel slowly shut and we were thrown into darkness again.

"Oh God..." Orion rubbed his eyes. "I'm never opening these again."

Every time I blinked, a silhouette of the sun was burned into my vision.

Tears brimmed on my raw eyes.

We sat on the steps and nursed our eyes for a few minutes until we were mostly seeing normal again.

"Okay, I say we close our eyes and head up to the Surface. When we've adjusted through our eyelids, we open them." Griffin said. "Then we," Griffin sighed, "apply our skills from the lessons."

We all grimaced. It was in the back of all of our minds that we wouldn't be coming back down...and even though we knew that we somehow held on to the hope that we would Find, survive, and make it back down to our Coalition.

Before I knew it, Griffin and York were pushing up on the ceiling.

I closed my eyes and sunlight streamed in. My vision was bright red, like the fire in the pits at home.

"Okay," Griffin spoke. I felt like he should be shouting, like there should be more noise, like a rushing sound or something. But Griffin was talking normal...almost in a whisper.

I was going to hate it up here.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><

So there's there, and that's that.

Wait what?

Okay, anyway, was that a little too Hunger Games-y? I think it was...

Anyway tell me what you guys thought, and... yeah...

~ PB