The look on Suho's face twisted into madness.
"I won't repeat myself," Suho said.
His voice was dangerously low, sending a chill through everyone via the shaking chain.
The Old Man, Prisoner 204, stumbled in the mud. He kept holding on to his swollen ankle, his face pale and slick with sweat.
"I... I can't," Number 204 gasped, looking up at the giant looming over him. "It's fractured. I felt it snap."
"Get. Up."
Suho reached down, his thick fingers grabbing the collar of the Old Man's jumpsuit.
With a grunt of force, he lifted him to his feet like a rag doll.
The Old Man screamed, a high-pitched, echoing sound that cut through the eerie silence of the Forest of Death.
"Shut up!" Suho hissed, slapping a hand over the Old Man's mouth. "You want to call the things out there to us? Huh?"
The group froze at that.
It was true; they didn't know what lurked behind the trees.
The silence of the forest returned, heavier than before.
"We have a problem," the woman, Prisoner 550, said, her voice shaking.
She was clutching the ghostly chain at her throat as if it were a necklace of gold.
"He looks like he can't continue anymore. If we keep dragging him, we'll never make the five kilometres in ten hours."
"We will carry him then," the Teenager, Number 119, suggested, his eyes wide and wet. "We can take turns. He probably won't weigh much."
Suho looked at the Teenager like he was an idiot.
"Carry him?" Suho scoffed, gesturing to the black, smiling Buddha statue that sat in the mud. "We barely lifted that thing with three guys. Who is going to carry the cripple? You?"
The Teenager shrank back. "I... I'm not strong enough."
"Exactly," Suho spat on the ground. "We are already down a man because he's useless as fuck. If we carry him, we are down two men. We won't make the halfway point before the timer hits zero and our heads explode or whatnot."
"So what?" the woman, 550, cried out, paranoia edging into her tone.
"We can't just leave him here! The chain won't let us free! If we walk five meters away, we all blow up together!"
The reality of their situation settled over them.
They couldn't move forward because of the injury, and they couldn't leave because of the chain.
"We're stuck," the man with glasses muttered, wiping dirt from his lenses. "We're going to die here. We're actually going to die here because of an old bastard."
Suho cracked his neck, the sound loud in the quiet air.
His gaze landed on the trembling Old Man.
"Rule Number 3," the woman whispered suddenly.
Everyone turned to look at her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with a terrifying realisation. She pointed a shaking finger at the Old Man.
"It said something like the weight... It's tied to the life force," she stammered, her voice gaining a desperate edge. "If a member is eliminated... the weight gets lighter."
The group went deathly still.
The Teenager gasped. "What? You... you can't say that."
"Why not?" Number 550 snapped, fear stripping away her morality. "Look at him! He's a corpse already. Just dead weight, making us stall. If we drag him along, we all die. If he... if he goes... his sacrifice will save nine lives."
She looked around the group, desperate for validation. "It's a simple problem. It's either him or us. That's the math."
Suho looked at the Old Man. A dark look of consideration crossed his face. He cracked his knuckles. "The bitch is right. He's suffering anyway. Maybe I should put him out of his misery."
Number 204's eyes widened. He dragged himself back. "No! No, please! I have money! I have assets outside! I can pay you! I can—"
Suho took a step forward.
"Wait."
Meriel's voice was calm, cutting through the tension.
Suho stopped and glared at Meriel. "You got something to say, stick-boy? You want to play hero and save grandpa?"
Meriel looked at the Old Man, then at the heavy statue, and finally at Suho. His expression wasn't one of mercy.
"Don't kill him," Meriel said.
"Why?" the woman argued, her voice irritated. "He's slowing us down!"
"Exactly," Meriel said smoothly. "He slows us down walking. But he still has arms, doesn't he?"
Meriel walked over to the statue and kicked it. "This thing weighs 100 kilograms. Right now, three people are carrying it. They are already tired. If we kill the old man, the weight drops to 90kg. That's still heavy."
Meriel looked Suho in the eye. "We have five kilometres to go. If we kill him now, we lose a pair of hands. We need bodies to take turns and, if needed, a sacrifice."
He gestured to Number 204. "Let him cling to the statue. Or drag him. But keep him alive until we reach the halfway point. When we are exhausted, when we can't take another step... that is when we get rid of the weight."
Meriel's logic was chilling.
He wasn't arguing for the Old Man's life but suggesting they use him up like a battery and discard him when he was empty.
"We need a scapegoat," Meriel added softly. "What if there are traps ahead? Do you want to walk into them first, Suho? Or should we send the guy who is going to die anyway?"
Suho paused.
He looked at the statue, then at his own tired muscles.
"Smart," Suho grunted. A cruel smile touched his lips. "You make sense, boy. We squeeze him dry first. Then we dump the trash somewhere."
The woman looked sick, but she nodded slowly. "Fine. But if he falls behind again..."
"I'll help him!"
The shout came from the Teenager, Number 119. He rushed forward, his face flushed with righteous determination.
He grabbed the Old Man's arm and helped him sit up.
"I'll help him walk," the Teenager said, glaring at Meriel and Suho. "We don't have to kill anyone. I'll make sure he keeps up. We can all make it."
Suho laughed, a dry, barking sound. "Suit yourself, kid. But if you fall behind, I'm cutting the chain."
"Let's move," Meriel said, stepping back into formation.
They lifted the statue again. It felt heavier than before.
All of them walked for another twenty minutes in silence.
The Teenager was true to his word, practically carrying the Old Man, whispering words of encouragement. It was a touching scene.
Then, something woke up in the forest.
GRRRRR.