We speed to the horizon like moths to a flame. We know what awaits us. We can choose to step out of the spiral at any moment. We do not. The landscape changes as we travel. We left the heart of an emerald and now find ourselves lost inside a stone of coal. It has been like this for the past week, but an ever moving glow in the distance tells us that change is possible. The maze we find ourselves in can only have so many dead-ends. Our greatest concern at this point is our rations. We have enough to last eighty-three days. Assuming all of us make it. My group consists of five people. Three ladies; two of us are guys. Our only potentially lethal incident happened two days ago when Margo, our group leader, nearly got taken out by a landmine when she went for a piss. For the most part the days and nights (well, everything is night nowadays) are really boring. We are on our bikes early each morning and stop only to eat somewhere during the middle of the day. Then we all nap before continuing until sundown. Without any light, the days drag on forever. We are all confused and I can tell I am not the only one who is physically and mentally weary. Jenny and Ashley argued during lunch today. About whether Mirchener or Holzstein was the better author. Margo had to eventually shut them up, and we all knew that signalled the beginning of our end. Thank God none of us are real friends.