Surviving Paradise

Chapter 3

ANU’S POV

The scorching heat blurs the horizon. The air is thick, heavy, suffocating. I shield my eyes with my hand, scanning the endless desert around me. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. Each breath I take comes out heavy as the sun drains every ounce of moisture from my body.

Where are we? What is this place?

I don’t remember how I got here. One moment, I was somewhere else—somewhere safe. And now, I’m here, thrown into what feels like an impossible challenge. A game? A simulation? A test of survival?

All around me, people scatter, disoriented and desperate. Some wander alone, lost in thought, while others form small groups. The tension is obvious.

This is a dangerous game. Hunger and thirst will soon set in, and when they do, there’s no doubt in my mind that a fight will break out.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. My body tenses as I spin around with my fists clenched, but the sight before me makes me freeze.

Chris.

For a moment, I forget about the unbearable heat, the danger, the uncertainty of where we are. His dark curls are damp with sweat, sticking slightly to his forehead. His hazel eyes meet mine, and I feel a flutter in my chest.

Now is not the time for this. I force myself to focus.

“We need to team up,” Chris says “If we try to survive alone, we won’t last long. Strength in numbers, right?”

I nod, swallowing the dryness in my throat. “Agreed. What’s the plan?”

Chris jerks his head toward a small group forming nearby. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

I follow him. As we walk, my boots sink into the burning sand. As we approach, I take in the people standing together. They don’t look like the kind of group that would naturally band together, but that might work in our favor.

“This is Anu,” Chris says, motioning toward me. “She’s with us.”

A beautiful girl with toned arms and long braids nods at me.

“Nia,” she introduces herself.

I immediately recognize her—Nia Carter. She's an elite athlete. She has an aura of confidence about her that I admire immediately.

What's she doing here?

“Toby Banks,” the next person says, grinning.

I know him too. Who doesn’t? He’s one of the biggest social media influencers around. His face is literally plastered all over the internet. He’s tan, effortlessly handsome, and carries himself with a casual arrogance that suggests he’s used to getting what he wants. “I don’t suppose any of you brought WiFi with you?”

I manage a weak chuckle, but I don’t miss the edge in his tone. He might be trying to make light of things, but he’s just as freaked out as the rest of us.

A quiet boy with curly hair and mixed features nods at me in greeting. He's biracial. He looks familiar but I don't know where I've seen him before.

“Justin.” His voice is soft, almost hesitant.

He’s clutching a photo of a girl in his hands. His gaze lingers on it for a second too long before he tucks it away in his pocket. I don’t say anything, but I make a mental note of it.

“And that’s Emeka,” Chris says, motioning to a tall, lean guy with sharp cheekbones. “He’s a hacker.”

Emeka shrugs. “And now, apparently, a desert survivalist.”

I glance around at the rest of the group, taking them in. They all seem nice—at least for now. Desperation changes people, and I wonder how long we can hold on to civility before survival instincts take over.

Chris claps his hands together. “Alright, we need a plan. Water and shelter come first. We need to figure out how to get both before we start losing our strength.”

“We should also think about food,” Nia adds. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here.”

Toby sighs dramatically. “Awesome. A real-life Hunger Games scenario. Exactly what I signed up for.”

“Enough,” Chris says “This isn't time for games. We need to work together. The more we fight, the harder this gets.”

Everyone nods in agreement. I glance at Justin, who is still gripping his pocket, lost in thought.

My mind races back to his earlier moment with the photo.

Who was that girl? Why was she so important to him?

I shake the thoughts away. Now isn’t the time to get distracted.

We have one goal: survive.

We decide to start searching for food and for anything that can give us an idea on where we are. The desert stretches endlessly before us.

The sun is relentless, beating down on our backs. Every step forward feels like a battle against exhaustion, but we keep moving, searching for water, searching for hope.

Toby Banks keeps spirits high.

"You know," he says, flashing a grin despite the sweat dripping down his face, "I once heard that the best way to beat the heat is to think cold thoughts. Imagine an ice bath, Anu. Picture the way the water wraps around you, so crisp, so refreshing—"

"Shut up, Toby," Nia groans, dragging her feet. "You’re making it worse."

Toby chuckles. "Hey, just trying to keep us from falling apart. If we give up now, what’s the point?"

He has a way of making us laugh even when we’re on the brink of collapse. The heat is unbearable, but his words remind me that we’re still human.

We press on, rationing our energy, scanning the horizon for any sign of relief. The desert is cruel. It doesn't care about hope or determination. Our water supplies are dangerously low, and every breath we take feels like inhaling fire.

Hours pass. The weaker ones start to falter. Nadine, one of our group members, stumbles. Her knees hit the sand with a dull thud. Sweat beads are on her forehead, but her lips are cracked and dry. "I can’t..." she whispers.

I crouch beside her, forcing myself to ignore my own fatigue. "You can. Just a little more. We’ll find something soon."

Toby kneels next to me, offering his canteen, but there’s barely a sip left. "We share, okay? We get through this together."

But deep down, we all know the truth—without water, we won’t last much longer.

Then, someone in the group gasps. "Look!"

I follow their gaze. In the distance, shimmering like a mirage, is something that gives me hope. A water source. An oasis.

For a moment, we all feel relieved. The end of our suffering. The answer to our prayers. We pick up the pace, renewed by the sight of glistening water.

But as we draw closer, relief turns to dread.

A group is already there. And they are not welcoming.

A huge guy, Femi, stands at the center of the oasis. His broad shoulders are squared and his calculating eyes scan the horizon like a predator surveying its territory. His faction has claimed the water, and from the looks of it, they have no intention of sharing.

A desperate participant—someone from another group—stumbles forward, pleading. "Please... just a little water."

Femi doesn’t hesitate. His boot slams into the man’s stomach, sending him falling onto the sand.

"Pathetic," Femi sneers, shaking his head as the man groans in pain, clutching his ribs. "You want water? Earn it. Otherwise, crawl back to where you came from and die quietly."

Laughter echoes from Femi’s group.

Horror twists in my stomach as I watch the scene unfold. The man writhes in the sand. His body convulses from dehydration and pain, but no one helps him. No one dares.

"What do we do?" Mara whispers. "We can’t just walk up there."

Toby’s usual playfulness is gone. His jaw tightens. "If we don’t get water soon, we’re screwed. But if we go down there now..." He doesn’t finish the sentence, but we all know what he means.

We deliberat in hushed voices. Every second wasted brings us closer to collapse.

Then, a new horror dawns.

The sand shifts.

Not from the wind. Not from our movements.

Something is moving beneath it.

It's a ripple, subtle at first, then more pronounced. Like something large slithering just beneath the surface.

Toby notices it too. "Uh... tell me that’s just my imagination."

But I know it’s not.

The desert isn’t just a wasteland. It’s alive.

And we are not alone