Don't Stop, Tick Tock, Sun Blows Up Today

[Cake]

[B56: Kyran Dean - Start]

Calm down, Dean. You're a good kid. Don't make this worse for yourself.

That's what he said to him the day Kyran had gotten the fat lip and stitches.

For an hour or so Kyran tried, he tried so damn hard to keep calm, but this wasn't some lunch room food fight. No, this situation was on an overwhelmingly different level, one that he could never endure so easily like that. The cold collar and the ache within his head made it all the more clear.

Certain people — if he could even call any of those bastards, people — would learn their lesson someday. He would probably also say.

What about the good people, people like you Mr. D? Did you deserve that?

One of the cushioned seats in the office, the one he had been sitting on just a few seconds prior was hoisted into the air and smashed directly onto the surface of the desk in front of him. The old wooden desk, possibly years decayed by the moist sea air, splintered slightly from the impact as the chair was sent crashing down again. A minute later, that same chair was flung and sent soaring across the loading dock's office, finally meeting its destination on the other side of the room. The wheels of the rolling chair continued to rotate in awkward half circles even after it shattered the blinds covered window and landed with a thud on the floor.

Heck did any of them: his classmates, his friends, even other Aurora students he didn't care for or know at all, did they deserve what was happening to them right now?

For a moment, Kyran simply stood still, allowing the crisp breeze from the ocean entering through the 'open window' he created to touch his face and hopefully help him relax enough to clear his mind a little. It didn't work, he was still pissed off, angry at the world that this whole thing was happening, that one of his favorite teachers, his friend, Mr. Davidge had been carelessly put down like a sick dog in front of him and he wanted to break more stuff.

Kyran's hands curled into fists and trembled when his mind flashed back to the big man's final moments. The fear on his face, the pain in his expression, the screams, it all felt so unnatural to see this tough and boisterous lumberjack of a man act this way. Then there was the loud bang and the image of his teacher's massive beard, drenched in his own blood. Kyran remembered thrashing wildly, trying to break free after it happened, fury building, wanting to fuck up the guy who did it.

It was Mr. Davidge's words of advice that convinced Kyran to calm down to avoid getting shot as well. He kept silent the whole time; his stares were fixed straight ahead burning holes at the speakers during the torturous briefing. He had refused to turn his head side to side at his classmates when urged by the speaker and refused to watch the film clip they were showing. He still could hear though, he heard enough to know what this whole thing was about before the knock out gas hit the room.

After getting banned from the senior prom, he had made an effort to stay out of trouble so he could go on the senior trip. He wasn't exactly as fond of Disneyland as some of his peers, but it was the last big moment he would probably have to enjoy time with all his friends and his class before graduation. Now these same friends and classmates were expected to kill each other, for who knows why and it made him ill.

Whatever. He really needed to take a walk outside.

---

It was a lovely blue day. Sunny skies, very few clouds - nothing like his hometown on a regular day. Yet he missed those cloudy Seattle skies.

He'd woken up near the seaside earlier in the day, but had wandered around the shipping yard dazed and confused, looking for some indoor area that he could sit down and gather his thoughts for a little while. He had only seen one other person so far. It was another guy who he saw leave the small office building in a hurry before he got there, but Kyran couldn't identify who it was in his gas-induced morning stupor. Now he was back where he started, staring out at sea.

Another breeze brushed passed as Kyran sat on the edge of a pier along the harbor watching the waves. It was strangely comforting for him, though he'd admit, anything that could keep his mind off their current predicament would be comforting he supposed.

It took a bit of time, but he was able to get over his initial reactions of confusion, shock, anger and frustration. Instead he felt disconnected. All he needed to do was focus; get his head in the game. That's what a part of him was telling the rest, at least. Problem was, with this 'game', he wasn't exactly sure how. How was anyone supposed to get ready and psych themselves up for this? The only plan he had at that moment was to keep moving and find somewhere less out in the open.

Kyran lifted himself onto both feet to do exactly that, when something suddenly caught his attention.

[D/N]

(Deanna Hull continued from Black and Smoking Christmas Trees.)

Deanna Hull's thoughts, like many a brooding teenager's from her or any generation, occasionally turned to dark and angry matters like death. She hates you mom, you're so fucking unfair, she wishes she were dead. That'd show you. Once, while those thoughts drifted through her mind like wispy tendrils of smoke, Dee concluded that drowning was the best way to go. She'd always liked swimming: the strange feeling when you're immersed in water; the tinny thrill when you realize you've given yourself over to a hostile environment, one you're not adapted to survive in. And the idea of surrendering yourself to the water, taking it inside as well as around you, had a certain allure. It would be peaceful, maybe even transcendental. Needless to say, those beliefs were a bunch of teenage bullshit. Drowning was a fucking nightmare.

Even if it didn't take long before she was back and gasping for air.

She'd been sucked down by the undertow for what felt like a hell of a lot longer than it was, and suddenly she was at the surface, staring at the sun and choking because she couldn't scream. There was water and other things in her throat and beyond; her hair had plastered itself to her face and it was in her mouth and she couldn't peel it away because her arms were too busy flailing against the current. Dee blinked, looked away from the sun and towards the beach, and dully wondered how the hell it had gotten so far away.

So she pivoted her arms but they weren't moving fast enough. She tried to yell but still couldn't, and she tried to kick but her legs were too heavy, and she tried to slip her shoes off but they were on too tight. And she couldn't get back, so she splashed around some more, and then her backpack slipped off and began a descent to the bottom.

"FA-NAAA-NO!"

Less than dignified first words on Survival of the Fittest, version 5, but they snapped Deanna back to something resembling sanity.

Dee kicked at the pack, her only remaining connection with any world, and snagged it around her ankle. That selfish act turned her sideways, and she managed to dog paddle a few feet, dimly remembering that to get out of a current you swam across it, not against it. She reached down and wrapped her Freddy-extended fingers around a strap, made a few more pitiful strokes, and what do you know, she was moving parallel to the island at a gentle pace rather than away from it at rapid speed.

Of course, she was still in open water, fully clothed, weighed down by a pack she wouldn't discard, and now she was facing the sheer cliffside that dominated the island's northeast coast.

So she continued to float.

---

"Ohgodohnonooh--" --wave-- "--blafuck!"

She grabbed at the rock and left it with another fresh scrape on her palm.

The small cluster of rocks a hundred feet off the cliff face was the closest thing to a coastline within a mile that Dee could see. It was either climb up on them and rest or let go of her backpack.

"FUCKITS!"

Dee grabbed again and held on.

She clutched the edge with both arms and reached one leg out of the water, pushing her body above the surface until she heaved herself on the rock's surface and immediately threw up all over it.

---

About twenty minutes later -- maybe a fucking hour, Dee didn't know or care -- she crouched on the rock, skin goosebumped and teeth chattering, and tried to will herself for the third time to jump back in. The water hadn't been that bad, really, but this wind was ice cold freezing. Dee had managed to strip off her shoes and that stupid glove and toss them in her pack, which she'd fastened around her chest; her hoodie and socks she'd peeled off and tossed into the deep blue. There were more hoodies and socks in her bag; she was sure of that. Even if they were all soaking wet; Dee hadn't found enough courage yet to check through her stuff to see what was ruined. She would once she got back.

And she had to swim to get back, of course, because no matter how many times she'd screamed or cursed or cried for help, no one was close enough to hear, and in that same deep corner of her mind that ran itself to dark thoughts she recognized that even if someone did they sure as hell weren't going to swim their ass this distance to rescue her. So she had to swim. And Deanna Hull could fucking swim, it was the one physical activity she was capable of. She was cut and bruised and drowned and a classmate had fallen to his death in front of her, and she was going to fucking swim. There were docks, way down after the jagged cliffs finally petered out. She could make it, easy. So she jumped.

---

Nope, wrong again. She could not make it easily.

So as the docks came into view, Dee was again floundering, taking in water and spitting it back out alongside mucus and sparse streaks of blood. She forced one hand out of the water as the other kept paddling forward, moving beyond the spongy-looking docks and in the vague direction of the big cement pier jutting out into the ocean, and waved as wildly as she could.

"Help! Fucking help here, please!"

[Cake]

If a girl was trapped between the wind-churned currents and the pounding tides of some unfamiliar territory, yelling for help with no one else around, what does one guy do?

Considering what they were supposed to do, would that mean doing absolutely nothing or should a person disregard that fact in favor of holding on to whatever decent piece of humanity they still had left inside themselves?

Kyran dropped his duffel bags plus his snapback, sleeveless hoodie vest and any extra accessories he had on top of them. Then he blasted off. Kyran was sprinting along the pier down route in her direction, his knees slightly bent, his feet shoulder width apart in proper stance for optimum speed and distance, pushing on forward with arms pumping in fluid motion. His body and mind were moving, adapting the situation in terms to what he actually was familiar with.

Now he was finally near the end-zone. Don't stop now.

He looked to his left and then to his right and then back to the girl splashing frantically up and down along the surface of the water. He could see some blood, her extended arm, the palm of her waving hand, her face were scraped up pretty badly. There were wooden posts here, jutting out from the sides of the boardwalk. Thinking fast, he inched himself along the edge delicately until his spine rested back against the sturdy, but semi-sea-decayed wood. The girl was a few feet down and a few feet away, though close enough now in distance to do something effectively.

Using all six feet and two inches of his reach, Kyran leaned over the ledge, carefully wrapping his legs around the wooden post as if he were holding onto the bar of a fallen jungle gym, a risky position for sure. He stretched out his arm, palm open and swung forward in an attempt to grab the girl's outstretched hand. Still, she wasn't close enough for him to reach. Fortunately his actions were recognized and the girl was actively trying to will herself nearer.

Her finger tips brushed against his fingerless skater gloves and he swung forward, closing his hands to get a better grip. Kyran managed to grab her, but her pruned wet fingers slipped from his grasp and so did one of his feet from the wood post.

For a moment, Kyran flailed wildly off balance with only one foot around the post, his face dipping in into the salt water, stinging his eyes and temporarily blinding him. He lifted his head up, shook the droplets of water from the front of his hair and gasped briefly. The bright sunlight seemed to be extra sensitive to his sight now, but he had an objective and he was determined to reach his goal. She was still there.

The torrents were helping him now, pushing her into him rather than away and the extra reach he made from slipping was enough for her to grab onto him. She was undoubtedly panicked, her hands frantically searching for something to hold onto so she wouldn't go under again.

Those hands found his hair.

The mild pain from his scalp caused Kyran to flinch when she found her grip, but he found his focus. Eat it up, his dad would always say. Screw the pain. You're a guy, guys are supposed to be tough. So grin and bear it he did. His arms wrapped around the upper-torso of the distressed girl into a flimsy hug, his loose foot finally tightened back around the post. The bag she had fastened across her chest muffled his face, so he pushed her back just a little bit for some breathing space.

She seemed shocked at that latest action, but Kyran quickly grabbed at her wrist, this time succeeding. Her own hands grabbed at anything she could. One hand found his shirt's collar, the other hand attempting to get a grip on his arm, but managing only to get a good grasp on his sleeve.

This wasn't good - the T-shirt he wore was inadvertently being pulled off, blocking his sight and then they'd be back from where she started. He could only imagine what must have been one of the most grueling experiences in her life. For one, he could now identify her up close as his classmate Deanna Hull and he knew she could swim since he saw her at the public pool on rare occasion. So unless she had forgotten how to swim, Deanna was very obviously exhausted from what ever happened to her this day so far. He would wonder how long she was out there, but time was ticking too quickly for him to do that and his T-shirt was slipping off by inches at this second.

That's when he got the idea.

Deanna screamed and cursed like she did when she first alerted Kyran of her presence, as she began to drift away again with the T-shirt in her hands. Kyran, with only his sleeveless Obey brand undershirt covering his upper-body, snagged onto and held steady to the other end, his shirt acting as a rope between them. He just needed her to stop panicking for just enough time so that he could reel her in.

"Shut up," he told her. "Hold on tight."

[D/N]

Yeah, easy for him to say.

Dee held on though, because in the midst of the scratching and splashing and screaming, the sensation of wrapping her fingers around that shirt felt best. It just took time to fully process the fact that she was holding on to it and that Kyran Dean was on the dock with the other end.

Then she stopped flailing. She grabbed the shirt with her other hand, and stared out of the water at Kyran. He stared back, face blank for a second, as if neither of them had any idea what to do next. Like hey, she'd managed to do it, now what the fuck?

Then he nodded, yelled at her to come on, and Dee recognized that the dock was a few strokes away. She kicked weakly a few times as he pulled her, long arms straining, slowly edging his body backwards. Then her hands were almost banging against the dock; she let go of the shirt and snagged the corner with four fingers.

Christ. Now that she was there, it hardly seemed worth the effort.

Kyran was on his knees now. He reached out, clasped one hand over her skinny bicep, and began dragging Dee out of the water. Her other arm reached up and found his undershirt, then wrapped around his midsection as they got closer, and as Kyran pulled her out of the water their chests touched and she looked into his face and felt like she was posing for the cover of a romance novel. She hated it, and was hating this heroic asshole and his muscly arms and strong abs until he dragged his legs back a few feet and she fell unceremoniously on her side on the cement. Then she liked him a bit.

Dee turned onto her front; a flood of water rushed out of her deluged pack as it folded underneath her. She coughed and snot ran out of her nose; for a second she was positive she'd vomit again, but apparently not. So instead Dee pushed herself up with her arms long enough to slip the backpack off, then fell back on her side and looked at the guy who'd fished her out. What was she supposed to say here?

"I'm wet."

Oh yeah.

"Thanks, Kyran."

She spat water, looked down, and cried for about ten seconds as she rolled into a sitting position and pulled her shirt off. Then she wiped her face with the soaked fabric, tossed it between her legs, and stared at the ground.

"God, this..."

She'd let him finish the thought. Deanna had nothing to say right now.

[Cake]

There was nothing Kyran had to say either.

What could he possibly really say right now except for "this sucks" which was obvious and they both knew it or "are you okay?" which she clearly wasn't. So instead he kept quiet. Maybe he'd find out exactly what happened later on, just now wasn't a good time for that.

He studied her for a few seconds keeping mind not to watch her for too long as he sat across the way, knees up in front of him arms around them, recuperating a bit from the struggle to reel her onto the docks. Deanna likely needed a moment to recuperate after her own miserable ordeal as well. Good thing it was sunny though. His tank was splashed wet in places and the blue T-shirt he'd worn earlier then used to reel her in was even more soaked, so he really needed that sun. They both did.

Like here's this girl, weeping every few seconds with snot running down from her nose, completely drenched and looking like a sad little kid. How could you not feel sorry about that? Despite the sun, she was shivering, kind of.

Must have been from the wind blowing from the ocean, the surprisingly strong winds which started those same waves Deanna had been swept away in. Didn't help that she'd just removed her shirt, with all her dry changes of clothing being waterlogged judging by the condition of her backpack.

Should he try to comfort her or would that be weird?

Kyran didn't really know her - well, except when they were in some classes together, but even then they hadn't really talked too much before. Maybe she was one of those individualistic people who could handle things on their own and didn't want to be treated like a baby by some guy constantly trying to help.

Those scrapes though, ouch. He couldn't just do nothing. She didn't even have that second bag, like the one he got. Kyran stood up, his right hand raised at brow level to shield the sun as he looked to the direction he ran from. His own back-packs were still left down the other end of the pier. He hadn't really even checked those yet, but still had the sense to know that whatever was inside was important and he couldn't lose them yet, especially now with his classmate around.

"Um hey," he began with a calm, level voice, unsure at first what he'd do and how he'd go about phrasing his next few words as he walked over and sat on the boardwalk next to her. He warily placed an arm around the center of her back a few inches above her waistline and it felt really awkward. Maybe around the shoulder would be better, so he did that instead. He hoped it was comforting for her at least. Kyran was never really great at these sort of things.

"My stuff is over there," he pointed out with a nod of his head. "I'll get you something dry."

Kyran sucked on his bottom lip then flicked his tongue over the still healing scar from when that dickhead Adonis smacked him in the face that one day. Looks like the split on his scarred lip had re-opened somehow during the whole rescue mission thing that just happened, fortunately only slightly. Salt water had gotten in though and that was still bothersome, but whatever he could handle it. It was Deanna he was more concerned about.

He'd offer her a hand, or help her up right now if she needed him too and then they could find something for her to cover up with until her own clothes dried some. That is if she wanted the help. He hoped she would take him up on that, just cause he didn't want to leave her there like this after seeing her almost drown.

Maybe she would and if she wanted to talk about anything along the way about what happened to her, about everything that was happening to them now, about anything at all, he'd let her share and he'd listen. That way he wouldn't have to pry if she didn't want to talk about it.

Kyran draped his soaked tee over his shoulder.

"You coming?"

[D/N]

Kyran put his arm around her. It was awkward and she didn't want him doing that, but what was she going to do, decline his invitation?

Thankfully, it was only there for a few seconds.

"Yeah," Dee said when he got up and moved off, and then she trailed behind him, head down, back to the offices where Kyran rustled through his stuff and tossed her a fresh shirt before grabbing one for himself. She put it on and sat down on the floor, back to the wall, and debated two possibilities for what to do next: go through her own waterlogged bag and see how fucked up it was, or try to forestall that inevitable disappointment through useless small talk.

---

"And he went... fuck."

Dee held a hand out, palm up, and brought her other hand onto it.

"It was just like peeeew-splat."

She spread her fingers as her hands made contact. It was actually kind of funny. There was no mirth in her voice.

"And he was dead. His... his head just cracked."

That was the easiest part to discuss for now. Dave Russell was dead. She could deal with that. Deanna Hull was going to die. That she was still having problems with. She could talk about moments. She couldn't talk about the picture those moments added up to create. So she made small talk like that and listened to what Kyran said, and accepted a few bandages and stuff from his first aid kit. Of course, that reminded her that she'd left her own fucking daypack -- all her food and water included -- sitting on the beach a few miles away, where it'd probably been stolen by now.

They both sat there for a while, and Dee made a cursory check of her personal stuff only to find that pretty much everything beyond her clothes and ruined makeup had been taken anyway.

"I think I'm going to go," she finally said.

(GM permission granted to move Dee out)

[Cake]

"Yeah whatever, go ahead."

He didn't expect her to say that Dave Russell was dead.

Kyran stood up, only half listening to her from the same rolling chair he'd thrown against the office window that was still broken from the last time he was in here.

He grabbed his two packs, opened the door without turning back to look at the girl in the "Supah Dupah Dope" T-shirt, one or two sizes too big for her Tegan and Sara sized self and took a step outside to the docks once again. He needed to take another walk.

---

The sun was still out, but was slowly sinking below the horizon. How long was he in there, listening to her talk anyway?

Fell off a cliff she'd told him.

Dave Russell walked off the cliff - and he wasn't sure at first if Dee was serious or not, because she made it sound so damn casual. It just didn't sound like something to make up and joke about though, not in this place. So he'd chosen to believe her, even with (actually no) - 'especially with her surreal delivery of the news.

Something was wrong with Deanna, he could tell.

The whole almost drowning thing and witnessing someone die in front of her messed her up in more ways than one and probably did things with her psyche so now she was maybe a little bit crazier from it all. Now she was probably trying to cope in the most unusual ways, he could understand that. Didn't make it any less freaky for him.

He definitely did not want to talk much after hearing that.

So instead he'd kept mostly quiet the entire time she was talking in there, only responding when necessary and giving short, simple responses back.

It was probably late afternoon by now so he headed to the edge of the pier. Next to him was a set of wet clothing he had left to dry out in the earlier mid-day sun which he checked to see if  they were dry enough. His own clothing was getting there, but Deanna's were still very damp, considering she had been floating out there for quite some time, while his had only been splashed or dipped wet.

Kyran grabbed his initial shirt and started to wring out whatever water was left inside, which thankfully wasn't any.

Sure he had others like the "Be Kind to Animals" black shirt he was wearing now, but he liked this shirt and wasn't going leave it behind just because it got wet. Plus this shirt saved a girl, so now there was sentimental value attached as well, so that had to count for something. Kyran did the same to Deanna's clothes, squeezing the saltwater out over the edge of the pier and back into the ocean below him.

When he was done with that he laid them back down to dry some more and took a seat on the boardwalk as well.

---

Dad had one of these, a carpenters' hatchet. While condensing the items from both the duffel and his own pack into one bag, he'd found it there packed at the bottom of the duffel bag. It was good utility, if anything. One side for cutting or chopping, the other end pretty much a hammer.

Kyran juggled the tool from hand to hand, observed it some more and then dropped it apathetically next to him. He put his head down, resting his face into his palms and then let out a lengthy sigh.

They'd taken his things and he was still pretty pissed about that, especially after discovering that his brand new camcorder wasn't in his bag either. He'd worked hard to buy that expensive video camera. The plan was to film a video blog about his fun experience on the senior trip to Disney Land with his class and now, not only was he not in Disney Land, those people also decided to take the camera and his phone too. What gives, seriously. He shook his head.

Damn it, Dean - get your head in the game. There was no use sweating the small stuff, not with more important things to worry about, like living. Sun was almost setting and it was time to get a move on and survive this thing. At least he was about to prep for exactly that, but just like last time, he was interrupted. He turned around.

"Where are you going," Kyran asked as she stood silently behind him. It was Dee again. She followed him out here for some reason.

[D/N]

Deanna wasn't crazy.

She knew that because she didn't say so... out loud. Only crazy people said that. Fuck you, Kyran. You and your giant shirt and your helping to dry the soggy remnants of her possessions.

Not that there was much worth keeping in her bag. They'd taken her phone and her iPod and her earbuds, and for some pointless reason they'd even grabbed her notebook and pens. That left Dee with clothes, toiletries, and snacks. Snacks that reminded her that all the food and supplies she had been provided were long gone.

Well, she still had the Freddy glove. Almost forgot about that.

So where was she going?

"Um... honestly I was thinking of going back to that cave to see if my bag was still there, but fuck that. It's gone."

Deanna was damned if she was going to give those fucks who put here here and those other fucks who might be watching this the satisfaction of seeing her crawl back there. She didn't need that bag anyway.

"It's fine. I don't eat much."

She shifted from one foot to another. Her ankle was tender; she'd twisted it at some point but couldn't remember when. At least she'd remembered to pack a pair of flats. Her wedges were back in her bag, and no way she was going to get rid of them. however impractical they were.

"I just like, can't look at the water right now. If I'm gonna be on this island I want to find somewhere that doesn't make me... think things like what happened."

No. Dee wasn't going to think those things. And she wasn't going to talk them either, so if you had some mind towards taking good care of poor fragile Dee by getting her to open up and make her feel better, Kyran, you'd best cancel those thoughts right now.

Good.

"I guess I was going to find a house or something inland. You can come; I need give your shirt back later. Or you can stay here if you want."

God, this was unreal. Was she asking him on a date or something? Dee had no clue. She wasn't ready to mine her thoughts any further. She'd already dug deeply enough when she was dying. And she didn't want to go back there.

"Or if there's anywhere you want to go... we can do that maybe. If you want to."

She wasn't going to go back.

When Kyran left, Dee went with him. She made sure to keep pace, so she didn't give away that her ankle was hurting. At least she didn't have an extra bag to lug around.

Oh yeah, there was one other thing she still had that she'd forgotten to mention. Five clove cigarettes in a cheap but waterproof case.

(Deanna Hull continued in Disneyland's Enchanted Tiki Room)

[Cake]

Dee wanted to get away from the water and head inland. From the sounds of things, it didn't seem like she wanted to go alone.

So, fine they'd head inland. Kyran wasted no time moving after listening to her speak. He could sort through his stuff, eat and warm up for the rest of their survival here once they found some place to stay, away from the ocean. The important part was to get moving, now before it became dark.

As he walked back across the boardwalk, this time past the Loading Dock's office for the last time today and toward dry, natural land for the first time he'd been wherever here was, he took note of Dee following slowly behind him. Kyran dug one hand into his bag, pulling out his map and one of the high energy survival bars.

The map showed very clearly, that they were on an island that wasn't exactly as remote as he'd expect due to the amount of man-made structures identified on it. If he had to guess he figured they'd been in the shipping yard area near the northern, center-ish coast.

All they needed to do was move south and they'd probably find somewhere reasonable, eventually.

"Here." Kyran under-hand tossed the bar to Deanna as he noticed her limp from not too far behind. He didn't say a thing, as she seemed content to hide it.

Hopefully that 'eventually' he was just thinking about would be soon.

[[Kyran Dean Continued To: Disneyland's Enchanted Tiki Room.]]