((Catherine Zier continued from The Sky Is Falling, So Pull Up A Chair.))
Alone again. She definitely preferred it this way, but it was, she realized, maybe not the best of ideas. She was on Survival of the Fittest, and she couldn't let her emotions get the better of her, because that could very well mean her death in this situation. In the moment, she'd walked away. Was that a bad idea? She couldn't really say for sure.
Maybe being alone was the better option. It was, after all, easier to slip through the island unnoticed if she wasn't worrying about other people with her. She was never a firm believer of strength in numbers, anyway. Numbers were chaotic, number could dissent. Right now, she only had herself to worry about, and she knew herself. She wouldn't betray herself, or have differing opinions than herself.
She could trust herself.
...
But that still left two things to worry about.
1. She needed something to protect herself, just in case she ran afoul of someone dangerous. Something like an actual weapon, too, instead of... well, a lobster.
2. Supplies. As the days went on, she'd need to secure more supplies, to stay healthy. Or, well, as healthy as one could be in this situation. But getting supplies meant taking it from others, and how would she do that? Robbery? She definitely wasn't cut out for that. And that was a good way to constantly run head long into danger. Scavenging? It was morbid, but the dead didn't need food or water anymore. It seemed like her best bet, but the opportunities would be limited. Any dead bodies out there will have probably already been looted, so if anything, while it was the safest option, it was also probably the least effective.
There was that third option that briefly entered Catherine's mind but left it just as quickly. No. She wasn't going to resort to that.
She leaned against a tree. Her plan, or reasonable facsimile thereof, had had its groundwork laid out, but not much beyond that. She'd really need to start thinking seriously about her long-term method of getting through this hellhole.
Maybe she would need to rely other people, just as a crutch, but she really just straight up didn't like that idea.
][
Open.
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
Without warning, a sequence of astonishingly loud sounds echoed through the forest. Each had its own distinguishing characteristics, and each could be felt, even at what seemed to be some distance. Voices carried on the wind, barely audible in between the cacophony of gunfire.
"...deck the halls with boughs of holly... fa la la la la...."
First came a reticent set of dull thuds, each shot coming slightly slower than the last. The acrid smell of sulphur seemed to drift by on the wind immediately after.
“...i’ve never really done this...thanks for being patient..."
The thunderous pitch of the next few shots cut through the air much more cleanly. There was a slight delay at first, after which six evenly spaced blasts rang out, each reverberating through the forest.
"...this is my first time... senpai..."
A rapacious staccato followed, a drumming sound only marginally quieter than the previous shots though no less dramatic in their intensity. It abated briefly, only to be followed by a series of shorter and shorter bursts.
"...this thing is so huge... okay, here goes nothing..."
Finally, a titanic report seemed to overshadow the rest and capped off the hail of gunfire. The sounds of small branches tumbling to the ground was only barely audible, and a large cloud of smoke not unlike that from the first sequence of gunshots drifted through the woods.
"...just have to keep your grip tight... we're getting closer..."
((Darlene Silva, Jonah Heartgrave, Abraham Watanabe, Henry Sparks and Beryl Mahelona continued from dehiscent))
"...deck the halls with boughs of holly... fa la la la la...."
First came a reticent set of dull thuds, each shot coming slightly slower than the last. The acrid smell of sulphur seemed to drift by on the wind immediately after.
“...i’ve never really done this...thanks for being patient..."
The thunderous pitch of the next few shots cut through the air much more cleanly. There was a slight delay at first, after which six evenly spaced blasts rang out, each reverberating through the forest.
"...this is my first time... senpai..."
A rapacious staccato followed, a drumming sound only marginally quieter than the previous shots though no less dramatic in their intensity. It abated briefly, only to be followed by a series of shorter and shorter bursts.
"...this thing is so huge... okay, here goes nothing..."
Finally, a titanic report seemed to overshadow the rest and capped off the hail of gunfire. The sounds of small branches tumbling to the ground was only barely audible, and a large cloud of smoke not unlike that from the first sequence of gunshots drifted through the woods.
"...just have to keep your grip tight... we're getting closer..."
((Darlene Silva, Jonah Heartgrave, Abraham Watanabe, Henry Sparks and Beryl Mahelona continued from dehiscent))
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
The strategic function of Max taking point with the man-catcher instead of Lucas with the shotgun was too dynamic to properly enumerate. He was certain that in some lights, he would appeal foolhardy. In others, he hoped to appear genius. His concerns were mostly diplomatic. By concealing the gun, Max could escalate conflicts by revealing it. If it was present from the beginning, he lost the element of surprise. He was putting himself in a vulnerable position, certainly, but it would sway the trust of his companions if he were to lead the charge.
It also prevented them from seeing him rehearse his profanity under his breath. When the time came that it would be sufficient to swear, he wished it to come out naturally. He usually did not let such words enter his parlance, but if he wanted to come off as a relatable and typical individual, it would be essential to let some through every now and then, at this early stage. A seemingly insignificant detail, but one that would pay dividends to his ethos eventually.
Ethos, because his continued survival was an argument.
[Max Rudolph continued from Bloom Nobly, in a Transient Life]
The bunch had been traversing the island for some time, now. They had passed by the corners of the island, by the waterfall, and eventually strayed from the path to look deeper in the woods. Were he given the opportunity to pursue exploration of the island in less lethal contexts, Max would deem the natural foliage beautiful and the surroundings sublime. He wondered if every island was chosen for its beauty. Then, he wondered how they located such a high quantity of recently abandoned and hidden isl—
Suddenly, a spurt of gunfire rang out. Max dropped to the ground crouching in a squat, hands gripping tightly to the man-catcher's shaft. He turned and looked at Camilla and Lucas, gritting his teeth.
"Shit," he said.
That one came naturally enough.
"Everyone, stay down."
It also prevented them from seeing him rehearse his profanity under his breath. When the time came that it would be sufficient to swear, he wished it to come out naturally. He usually did not let such words enter his parlance, but if he wanted to come off as a relatable and typical individual, it would be essential to let some through every now and then, at this early stage. A seemingly insignificant detail, but one that would pay dividends to his ethos eventually.
Ethos, because his continued survival was an argument.
[Max Rudolph continued from Bloom Nobly, in a Transient Life]
The bunch had been traversing the island for some time, now. They had passed by the corners of the island, by the waterfall, and eventually strayed from the path to look deeper in the woods. Were he given the opportunity to pursue exploration of the island in less lethal contexts, Max would deem the natural foliage beautiful and the surroundings sublime. He wondered if every island was chosen for its beauty. Then, he wondered how they located such a high quantity of recently abandoned and hidden isl—
Suddenly, a spurt of gunfire rang out. Max dropped to the ground crouching in a squat, hands gripping tightly to the man-catcher's shaft. He turned and looked at Camilla and Lucas, gritting his teeth.
"Shit," he said.
That one came naturally enough.
"Everyone, stay down."
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BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 682
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: The Zone™
[Camilla Bell continued from Bloom Nobly, in a Transient Life]
While it was shameful to admit, Camilla had a tactical retreat plan. In her defense, it could be applied to anyone in her little group he needed to flee, and had some degree of strategy to it. She hoped. Basically, during their long walk, she took out one walkie-talkie. She would constantly hold onto that walkie talkie until she (or another member of her group, of course) needed to get out- and then, if she was the one fleeing, she would drop the walkie talkie so she could still communicate with them, and hopefully find her way back. If someone else needed to retreat, uh. Camilla would... quickly hand them the walkie-talkie.
Even as she fretted over details like that, she could take in the natural beauty of the island, especially the waterfall they'd seen. She'd always loved the sight of waterfalls, perhaps in half for the sound they made. From the gentle trickle generated by tiny changes in elevation to the mighty roar of the one they had passed, it was all music to her ears. And wasn't there a study that said the sight of flowing water was scientifically proven to calm people? Eh, she found that on tumblr. The scientific study part should probably be taken with a grain of salt. But hey, she knew the sight calmed her. Even without the waterfall, the lush greenery of the island was something to die for- wait, no. Shit. Still, that was kind of true. Maybe she was right the first time after all- the island was a dangerous beauty.
And then she was reminded that she could get shot at.
Camilla immediately dropped to a squat, beside the shrubbery. It was easy, with the sound of gunfire and... something or someone else coaching her. Whoever that voice belonged to, they sounded like a raving lunatic. Unless the gunfire was just obscuring what they were actually saying. Some sort of Christmas carol, something something senpai something something...
Did it matter?
She peeked up as far as the foliage would allow, and saw a girl leaning against a tree. Red-ish hair, didn't seem to be holding a weapon, or speaking, so that wasn't the source of their current may-be woes. Then she looked around to her teammates- or was that too generous a word? Kind of like calling a prom date your boyfriend. As it seemed, Max, who was in front of her, had the same idea at least. She then turned to look to Lucas.
While it was shameful to admit, Camilla had a tactical retreat plan. In her defense, it could be applied to anyone in her little group he needed to flee, and had some degree of strategy to it. She hoped. Basically, during their long walk, she took out one walkie-talkie. She would constantly hold onto that walkie talkie until she (or another member of her group, of course) needed to get out- and then, if she was the one fleeing, she would drop the walkie talkie so she could still communicate with them, and hopefully find her way back. If someone else needed to retreat, uh. Camilla would... quickly hand them the walkie-talkie.
Even as she fretted over details like that, she could take in the natural beauty of the island, especially the waterfall they'd seen. She'd always loved the sight of waterfalls, perhaps in half for the sound they made. From the gentle trickle generated by tiny changes in elevation to the mighty roar of the one they had passed, it was all music to her ears. And wasn't there a study that said the sight of flowing water was scientifically proven to calm people? Eh, she found that on tumblr. The scientific study part should probably be taken with a grain of salt. But hey, she knew the sight calmed her. Even without the waterfall, the lush greenery of the island was something to die for- wait, no. Shit. Still, that was kind of true. Maybe she was right the first time after all- the island was a dangerous beauty.
And then she was reminded that she could get shot at.
Camilla immediately dropped to a squat, beside the shrubbery. It was easy, with the sound of gunfire and... something or someone else coaching her. Whoever that voice belonged to, they sounded like a raving lunatic. Unless the gunfire was just obscuring what they were actually saying. Some sort of Christmas carol, something something senpai something something...
Did it matter?
She peeked up as far as the foliage would allow, and saw a girl leaning against a tree. Red-ish hair, didn't seem to be holding a weapon, or speaking, so that wasn't the source of their current may-be woes. Then she looked around to her teammates- or was that too generous a word? Kind of like calling a prom date your boyfriend. As it seemed, Max, who was in front of her, had the same idea at least. She then turned to look to Lucas.
"No sun to rise would be okay with me... Everyday, every day is okay"
"A voice in her head, a voice in her head, screaming all the words that were left unsaid"
"A voice in her head, a voice in her head, screaming all the words that were left unsaid"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Follow me in merry measure, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la..."
It was a little hard to hear anything over all the gunfire, so Darlene just had to belt out the lyrics even louder.
She was feeling good. Actually, not really! She was still feeling pretty bad on a big old grand scale, because she was still on an island way away from home staring down her inevitable impending death, but in the context of that overall bad situation she was doing much better than she had expected to be. She'd sort of thought, just because that was how things probably usually went, that she would be alone lying in a thorny bush somewhere sobbing and hugging her knees. Instead, she was shooting up a tree in the presence of company that ranged from good to pretty-alright.
Even Beryl wasn't so bad! Darlene still didn't trust her, not fully, because there had to be one person in the group who she kept her eye on and that was Beryl. Okay, also the boy with the president name. This was very embarrassing because Darlene knew he'd introduced himself, not just once but multiple times, and she'd even made a special mental note to remember, and she had that fact to stick to it by, that he had the same name as a president, but now all she could think of was Andrew Jackson and that definitely wasn't right because Andrew was such a boring everyday name that she would've never used that as a reminder. She had not done well on any of the parts of history class about presidents. She knew George Washington came first, and then... John Adams? And at some point his son? But she couldn't follow it all the way, either forward or backwards, and just got tangled when she tried.
She also wasn't totally entirely certain about Henry yet, either. He seemed okay, she thought, but it was hard to say. Better to be cautious. Her traveling companions could be pleasant company without being entirely trustworthy.
Shooting the gun was kind of fun, if difficult. She didn't think anybody was fooled that she really knew what she was doing, but they weren't being mean about it. She had been very very embarrassed to realize that she had, earlier when she was freaking out, entirely neglected to cock the revolver, meaning that if there had been a fight she would've pulled the trigger and then nothing would've happened and she would've been shot to death for being dumb. On the other hand, that meant she actually wouldn't have shot anyone else or herself by mistake, so if anyone asked she was just being safe. And then she forgot to do it later, because she felt very safe and secure, and that was why she needed reminding.
Darlene was not a very good shot.
When it wasn't her turn to shoot, she held her hands over her ears to drown out, even if only slightly, the rattle and bang of the others' fire. She only stopped singing, however, when something really important seemed to be being said. And mostly they were just making jokes or trading simple instructions, so she sung a lot.
"While I tell of Yule-tide treasure, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la..."
It was a little hard to hear anything over all the gunfire, so Darlene just had to belt out the lyrics even louder.
She was feeling good. Actually, not really! She was still feeling pretty bad on a big old grand scale, because she was still on an island way away from home staring down her inevitable impending death, but in the context of that overall bad situation she was doing much better than she had expected to be. She'd sort of thought, just because that was how things probably usually went, that she would be alone lying in a thorny bush somewhere sobbing and hugging her knees. Instead, she was shooting up a tree in the presence of company that ranged from good to pretty-alright.
Even Beryl wasn't so bad! Darlene still didn't trust her, not fully, because there had to be one person in the group who she kept her eye on and that was Beryl. Okay, also the boy with the president name. This was very embarrassing because Darlene knew he'd introduced himself, not just once but multiple times, and she'd even made a special mental note to remember, and she had that fact to stick to it by, that he had the same name as a president, but now all she could think of was Andrew Jackson and that definitely wasn't right because Andrew was such a boring everyday name that she would've never used that as a reminder. She had not done well on any of the parts of history class about presidents. She knew George Washington came first, and then... John Adams? And at some point his son? But she couldn't follow it all the way, either forward or backwards, and just got tangled when she tried.
She also wasn't totally entirely certain about Henry yet, either. He seemed okay, she thought, but it was hard to say. Better to be cautious. Her traveling companions could be pleasant company without being entirely trustworthy.
Shooting the gun was kind of fun, if difficult. She didn't think anybody was fooled that she really knew what she was doing, but they weren't being mean about it. She had been very very embarrassed to realize that she had, earlier when she was freaking out, entirely neglected to cock the revolver, meaning that if there had been a fight she would've pulled the trigger and then nothing would've happened and she would've been shot to death for being dumb. On the other hand, that meant she actually wouldn't have shot anyone else or herself by mistake, so if anyone asked she was just being safe. And then she forgot to do it later, because she felt very safe and secure, and that was why she needed reminding.
Darlene was not a very good shot.
When it wasn't her turn to shoot, she held her hands over her ears to drown out, even if only slightly, the rattle and bang of the others' fire. She only stopped singing, however, when something really important seemed to be being said. And mostly they were just making jokes or trading simple instructions, so she sung a lot.
"While I tell of Yule-tide treasure, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la..."
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
Catherine froze when she heard the loud cracks and bangs and booms through the air, the sounds echoing through the trees. Her eyes widened, and her head snapped around wildly, looking to see if she could make out anything. Any sign of a person, or something.
She swore she could hear... singing? Wait... how many people? Where the hell was it coming from?!
She stood like that for a few moments, unmoving, waiting for something else. For the other shoe to drop.
And then another round of shots. That was enough. Catherine didn't know what was going on, but honestly she wasn't sticking around to find out. Her eyes stared down the distance in the opposite direction as the sounds of the shots, before she legged it. Staying in the vicinity of where gunshots were going off was not conducive to long-term survival, after all.
((Catherine Zier continued in The Chords of Winter.))
She swore she could hear... singing? Wait... how many people? Where the hell was it coming from?!
She stood like that for a few moments, unmoving, waiting for something else. For the other shoe to drop.
And then another round of shots. That was enough. Catherine didn't know what was going on, but honestly she wasn't sticking around to find out. Her eyes stared down the distance in the opposite direction as the sounds of the shots, before she legged it. Staying in the vicinity of where gunshots were going off was not conducive to long-term survival, after all.
((Catherine Zier continued in The Chords of Winter.))
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
“...i’ve never really done this...thanks for being patient...," Jonah said apologetically to Beryl.
His eyebrows knitted together in an expression of concentration and worry whenever he took a shot. He tried to follow Beryl's instructions, aiming at a mark on a tree that they had made with a rock. It was hard to imagine actually having to aim at a person, but their enemy tree was far enough away from a person for him to feel comfortable taking a shot at it.
He had a good deal of ammunition in his bag, so while they couldn't starting punctuating sentences with gunshots Yosemite Sam-style, they could spare a few for practice. The shots were so loud, but he willed himself to keep his state of calm. His body had a knee-jerk panic reaction to the noises and to the feeling of the gun kicking against him, but he took deep breaths and just willed himself to keep calm. Taking the few shots had left his hands numb from both his hard grip on the Desert Eagle and the shock it sent running back into him.
Jonah decided to take a break while Abe went up and went to his bag. He poked his shirt to see if it was dry yet. Not quite. Jonah pulled a bottle of water out of his bag and started to drink.
His eyebrows knitted together in an expression of concentration and worry whenever he took a shot. He tried to follow Beryl's instructions, aiming at a mark on a tree that they had made with a rock. It was hard to imagine actually having to aim at a person, but their enemy tree was far enough away from a person for him to feel comfortable taking a shot at it.
He had a good deal of ammunition in his bag, so while they couldn't starting punctuating sentences with gunshots Yosemite Sam-style, they could spare a few for practice. The shots were so loud, but he willed himself to keep his state of calm. His body had a knee-jerk panic reaction to the noises and to the feeling of the gun kicking against him, but he took deep breaths and just willed himself to keep calm. Taking the few shots had left his hands numb from both his hard grip on the Desert Eagle and the shock it sent running back into him.
Jonah decided to take a break while Abe went up and went to his bag. He poked his shirt to see if it was dry yet. Not quite. Jonah pulled a bottle of water out of his bag and started to drink.
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TheLordOfAwesome
- Posts: 489
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:37 pm
- Location: Washington
((Lucas Abernathy continued from Bloom Nobly, in a Transient Life))
"...and that was the Heisei era of Godzilla." Lucas explained as he trailed behind Camilla. He had been talking about the subject of Godzilla ever since they left the stables and began wandering across the island. Ever since he had named his weapon he had been on something of a Godzilla kick and just started talking about the history of the franchise. Really he wasn't sure if Max or Camilla were even listening, but it was more for his benefit to cope with the situation than a real conversation. Keeps him focused and calm as he methodically recalled every detail of several decades of movie history.
It also helped to keep his mind off the fact his feet were killing him and he was sweating like a pig. There was just so much walking! This was literally the most exercise he has gotten that didn't involve sex in a very long time. Yeah, the place was pretty and all, but he missed his goddamn hotel room and not doing a shit ton of walking. At least Camilla seemed to like the scenery.
"Oh, yeah. Oooh, ahhh, that’s how it always starts." Lucas thought, as he looked to Camilla. "Then later there’s running and screaming."
"So!" Lucas exclaimed excitedly. "Godzilla 1998, what happened? Well, back in 1992, Toho was wrapping up Godzilla vs. Moth-"
A loud gunshot rang out through the forest and Lucas immediately shut up and dropped into a squat to hide with his... teammates? Companions? Terminology for what to call Cam and Max was something he'd have to figure out later. For now he was hiding along side them, readying King Ghidorah in case of trouble. Fortunately he figured how to load the damn thing while on the way here and had seen fit to do so. Safety was currently on to avoid shooting Max or Cam in the face like Vincent did to Marvin in Pulp Fiction, but the moment trouble looked like it might show up he was fitting it off.
He looked at Max and Camilla who looked back at him.
"Sooo..." Lucas whispered as he peered around. "I don't suppose we have a plan?"
"...and that was the Heisei era of Godzilla." Lucas explained as he trailed behind Camilla. He had been talking about the subject of Godzilla ever since they left the stables and began wandering across the island. Ever since he had named his weapon he had been on something of a Godzilla kick and just started talking about the history of the franchise. Really he wasn't sure if Max or Camilla were even listening, but it was more for his benefit to cope with the situation than a real conversation. Keeps him focused and calm as he methodically recalled every detail of several decades of movie history.
It also helped to keep his mind off the fact his feet were killing him and he was sweating like a pig. There was just so much walking! This was literally the most exercise he has gotten that didn't involve sex in a very long time. Yeah, the place was pretty and all, but he missed his goddamn hotel room and not doing a shit ton of walking. At least Camilla seemed to like the scenery.
"Oh, yeah. Oooh, ahhh, that’s how it always starts." Lucas thought, as he looked to Camilla. "Then later there’s running and screaming."
"So!" Lucas exclaimed excitedly. "Godzilla 1998, what happened? Well, back in 1992, Toho was wrapping up Godzilla vs. Moth-"
A loud gunshot rang out through the forest and Lucas immediately shut up and dropped into a squat to hide with his... teammates? Companions? Terminology for what to call Cam and Max was something he'd have to figure out later. For now he was hiding along side them, readying King Ghidorah in case of trouble. Fortunately he figured how to load the damn thing while on the way here and had seen fit to do so. Safety was currently on to avoid shooting Max or Cam in the face like Vincent did to Marvin in Pulp Fiction, but the moment trouble looked like it might show up he was fitting it off.
He looked at Max and Camilla who looked back at him.
"Sooo..." Lucas whispered as he peered around. "I don't suppose we have a plan?"
"That looked good, Jonah."
The unyielding heaviness of the air reminded Beryl of Hawaii, and she'd once called that place home. She still could have.
She evaluated the recoil of lead as it rippled through arms. Stone splash, whipping water into ripples. She turned her eyes to the tree they'd all fired at.
Pockmarks, less than there should have been. A gnarled stump was all that was left of the branch a shell from Henry's gun had casually obliterated. The tree bark peeled as easy and as raw as flesh. The tree was not so different, it too had a life, it too would be disturbed by the class of GHHS at play. She was sure to thank it for it's being resolute, standing the test of time, to still stand long after guns would no longer ring out on these island grounds. Eventually it would fall- the stripped bark would be wound, the bullets would be poison, it would suffocate and die.
She'd proven herself capable of overseeing murder in that sense, at least. She'd been the one to pick the tree.
"Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la." She joined Darlene for a moment, humming an odd melody where in the syncopation of her effort was such that the dash between 'la' was more suggested than not. lalalala-lalalala. It seemed rhythmic. She'd never been much of a singer, but her voice was bulky as the lungs her voice rested atop of. It had a unique timbre, and character, and guardian angels sometimes responded when she chanted in tribal tones.
She held up her hand.
"I think that should be fine for now. The guns and the owners are familiar enough now." Every gun found a space against every shoulder, to cry in rapid fire on. "The rest would come with..."
"Experience." She hadn't been too sure what she'd been about to say. The word has been nebulous, possibly fair nicer or meaner, up until it had been said and immediately become worse in context. Regardless of intent. She mused on what she could have meant, but she supposed that was really up to everyone else. She was just a conduit for the mood, not its source.
She'd thought the training had been fun, while it had lasted. For a moment she'd had new friends, new faces to share new experiences with. In another life they could have been new memories to be possibly forgotten. Here and now the loss of history would be definite.
The unyielding heaviness of the air reminded Beryl of Hawaii, and she'd once called that place home. She still could have.
She evaluated the recoil of lead as it rippled through arms. Stone splash, whipping water into ripples. She turned her eyes to the tree they'd all fired at.
Pockmarks, less than there should have been. A gnarled stump was all that was left of the branch a shell from Henry's gun had casually obliterated. The tree bark peeled as easy and as raw as flesh. The tree was not so different, it too had a life, it too would be disturbed by the class of GHHS at play. She was sure to thank it for it's being resolute, standing the test of time, to still stand long after guns would no longer ring out on these island grounds. Eventually it would fall- the stripped bark would be wound, the bullets would be poison, it would suffocate and die.
She'd proven herself capable of overseeing murder in that sense, at least. She'd been the one to pick the tree.
"Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la." She joined Darlene for a moment, humming an odd melody where in the syncopation of her effort was such that the dash between 'la' was more suggested than not. lalalala-lalalala. It seemed rhythmic. She'd never been much of a singer, but her voice was bulky as the lungs her voice rested atop of. It had a unique timbre, and character, and guardian angels sometimes responded when she chanted in tribal tones.
She held up her hand.
"I think that should be fine for now. The guns and the owners are familiar enough now." Every gun found a space against every shoulder, to cry in rapid fire on. "The rest would come with..."
"Experience." She hadn't been too sure what she'd been about to say. The word has been nebulous, possibly fair nicer or meaner, up until it had been said and immediately become worse in context. Regardless of intent. She mused on what she could have meant, but she supposed that was really up to everyone else. She was just a conduit for the mood, not its source.
She'd thought the training had been fun, while it had lasted. For a moment she'd had new friends, new faces to share new experiences with. In another life they could have been new memories to be possibly forgotten. Here and now the loss of history would be definite.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
What a merry little fuckin' gun gang they all were, all like, 'pow pow pow, I'm John Wayne.' Abe still didn't really give a shit about any of these people but like, they were alright, even Jonah's stifling sincerity. Darlene still made him kinda nervous but it didn't seem like she was one bad word away from capping the lot of them in the head anymore, at least.
They were alright and, more importantly, they were fuckin' flush with fierce firepower. How much of the island's "real" armaments did they carry between the five of them? Like, a tenth? Okay, Beryl's chainsaw was basically useless in practical terms, but like, it was a fuckin' chainsaw. You didn't get to complain about having a chainsaw. Five lucky, lucky bastards they were, to be granted such gifts, because that's all it was, haha! Luck! Abe had just had to siphon his from someone who hadn't been using it, that's all.
The other four could've been the most miserable pieces of shit in the whole hellhole and Abe still woulda stuck around, 'cause no-fucking-one with a brain was gonna mess with the Gucci Gun Gang, their fun new group title he would never say out loud because he'd die with embarrassment, because even he had standards.
"This is my first time... senpaiiiiiii..." he'd muttered under his breath as Beryl gave him pointers on how to make pointed, uh, points, with the point of his gun, because his standards still weren't that high, and everyone else was getting in on the fun double entendre action, so why shouldn't he? Nice to have someone around who actually knew what she was doing, at least, and not in a weird Schrodinger's liar way like Darlene with her incessant caroling. He was pretty sure we was using that thought experiment wrong, but also like, who gave a shit?
P90 in place. Safety off. Finger on the trigger. Squeezed way longer than he'd meant to, shocked at the furious explosion of rounds that had erupted in the blink of an eye. He'd hit his target tree, sure, but also like, everything slightly to the left or right, too. If there had been a person in front of him, they'd be meat. So many holes, a sinking ship of spurting blood and screams. That was kinda fucked up! Guns were kinda fucked up, right?!
"No. Fuckin'. Scoped." He'd said after he'd gotten up, ignoring the ringing in his ears, because it's not like they had fuckin' sound-dampening headphones. Getting a hearing aid or some shit would have to be a problem for future Abe.
A bit later, everyone had gotten their turn and Beryl declared that class was outta session, which was fine by him, not like he was screaming to pull the trigger again.
"Aight, that was fun and all, but what's next?"
They were alright and, more importantly, they were fuckin' flush with fierce firepower. How much of the island's "real" armaments did they carry between the five of them? Like, a tenth? Okay, Beryl's chainsaw was basically useless in practical terms, but like, it was a fuckin' chainsaw. You didn't get to complain about having a chainsaw. Five lucky, lucky bastards they were, to be granted such gifts, because that's all it was, haha! Luck! Abe had just had to siphon his from someone who hadn't been using it, that's all.
The other four could've been the most miserable pieces of shit in the whole hellhole and Abe still woulda stuck around, 'cause no-fucking-one with a brain was gonna mess with the Gucci Gun Gang, their fun new group title he would never say out loud because he'd die with embarrassment, because even he had standards.
"This is my first time... senpaiiiiiii..." he'd muttered under his breath as Beryl gave him pointers on how to make pointed, uh, points, with the point of his gun, because his standards still weren't that high, and everyone else was getting in on the fun double entendre action, so why shouldn't he? Nice to have someone around who actually knew what she was doing, at least, and not in a weird Schrodinger's liar way like Darlene with her incessant caroling. He was pretty sure we was using that thought experiment wrong, but also like, who gave a shit?
P90 in place. Safety off. Finger on the trigger. Squeezed way longer than he'd meant to, shocked at the furious explosion of rounds that had erupted in the blink of an eye. He'd hit his target tree, sure, but also like, everything slightly to the left or right, too. If there had been a person in front of him, they'd be meat. So many holes, a sinking ship of spurting blood and screams. That was kinda fucked up! Guns were kinda fucked up, right?!
"No. Fuckin'. Scoped." He'd said after he'd gotten up, ignoring the ringing in his ears, because it's not like they had fuckin' sound-dampening headphones. Getting a hearing aid or some shit would have to be a problem for future Abe.
A bit later, everyone had gotten their turn and Beryl declared that class was outta session, which was fine by him, not like he was screaming to pull the trigger again.
"Aight, that was fun and all, but what's next?"
There was absolutely nothing Beryl could have said that might’ve prepared Henry for the experience of pulling the trigger on his monstrosity of a weapon. In absence of a stock, he wrapped the rope he’d been using as a makeshift sling around his arm, and braced the handle into the crook of his arm. Firing from the hip was the only viable option, though as he quickly discovered one does not aim with this weapon. It was pointed vaguely in the direction of a threat, and let loose.
My very own BFG. The world's loudest panic button.
"Alright, here goes nothing..."
The colossal, violent blast sent Henry scrambling backwards; he’d never been drop-kicked, but it seemed like the only valid comparison. Only somewhat comforting was the fact that the gun seemed to be in one piece and functioning. It expelled a spectacular gout of smoke and flame as it fired, the burning powder of the shells now having far less space to burn within.
Ejecting the empty case with what could’ve been a loud metallic clang – Henry’s ears were still ringing – he produced another shell from his pocket and locked it into the breech. Loading and firing the weapon was something of a process, but from what he saw of the tree they were shooting at, he likely would only ever have to do it once at a time.
A large crater-like cavity in the tree was surrounded by what appeared to be hundreds of smaller holes; the pattern of shot had completely severed a branch and pruned away dozens of leaves. It was one thing to see what it had done to a tree. Henry stood wide-eyed, his thoughts only on what it might do to another person.
It would be difficult to distinguish that kind of wound from being mauled by some kind of wild animal.
“Holy shit!”
He shook out his wrist, pain still rippling up his arm as it had taken the brunt of the recoil force. The trigger had scraped against his knuckle as the gun catapulted itself backwards, and he felt bruised. Beryl seemed to have an easy time looking past what they’d just experienced. Maybe it was being well-acquainted with guns, she was just desensitized to them. Henry had a hard time looking at the holes in the tree and not seeing what they might’ve done to something that lived and breathed.
I guess we needed this. I don’t want to have to use it.
“What’s next is, I guess…”
He blinked, still in awe of what had transpired. Henry had thought the guns would make him feel safer, but they just evoked a sense of profound discomfort. Each was a magnificent example of engineering, craftsmanship, and technical know-how whose sole purpose was doing that to other human beings. He was awed, and glad that they all had a handle on their weapons. Impressed might've been taking it a bit too far.
There will be more of that before this is over. Get it together.
Henry snapped out of his momentary stupor and looked to the others, smoke still gently wreathing the forest floor.
“Maybe take a moment to eat something, catch our breath and then we keep moving. The more we know about the island, the easier it’s going to be to get around once the danger zones pop up. Paths that aren't on the map, tactical positions, that kind of thing.”
My very own BFG. The world's loudest panic button.
"Alright, here goes nothing..."
The colossal, violent blast sent Henry scrambling backwards; he’d never been drop-kicked, but it seemed like the only valid comparison. Only somewhat comforting was the fact that the gun seemed to be in one piece and functioning. It expelled a spectacular gout of smoke and flame as it fired, the burning powder of the shells now having far less space to burn within.
Ejecting the empty case with what could’ve been a loud metallic clang – Henry’s ears were still ringing – he produced another shell from his pocket and locked it into the breech. Loading and firing the weapon was something of a process, but from what he saw of the tree they were shooting at, he likely would only ever have to do it once at a time.
A large crater-like cavity in the tree was surrounded by what appeared to be hundreds of smaller holes; the pattern of shot had completely severed a branch and pruned away dozens of leaves. It was one thing to see what it had done to a tree. Henry stood wide-eyed, his thoughts only on what it might do to another person.
It would be difficult to distinguish that kind of wound from being mauled by some kind of wild animal.
“Holy shit!”
He shook out his wrist, pain still rippling up his arm as it had taken the brunt of the recoil force. The trigger had scraped against his knuckle as the gun catapulted itself backwards, and he felt bruised. Beryl seemed to have an easy time looking past what they’d just experienced. Maybe it was being well-acquainted with guns, she was just desensitized to them. Henry had a hard time looking at the holes in the tree and not seeing what they might’ve done to something that lived and breathed.
I guess we needed this. I don’t want to have to use it.
“What’s next is, I guess…”
He blinked, still in awe of what had transpired. Henry had thought the guns would make him feel safer, but they just evoked a sense of profound discomfort. Each was a magnificent example of engineering, craftsmanship, and technical know-how whose sole purpose was doing that to other human beings. He was awed, and glad that they all had a handle on their weapons. Impressed might've been taking it a bit too far.
There will be more of that before this is over. Get it together.
Henry snapped out of his momentary stupor and looked to the others, smoke still gently wreathing the forest floor.
“Maybe take a moment to eat something, catch our breath and then we keep moving. The more we know about the island, the easier it’s going to be to get around once the danger zones pop up. Paths that aren't on the map, tactical positions, that kind of thing.”
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
"Plan?" Max repeated, "Give me a second."
The most cohesive place to begin was at the five W's.
Who? Tentatively, Max rose slightly and scanned the premises. It was difficult to see through the thicket of the woods, but he shortly found an angle. There appeared to be a large assemblage of individuals set apart from Max's group by a distance of medium length. They were ostensibly quintuple in number, although Max did not wholly discount the possibility of members unaccounted for elsewhere in the trees. He recognized the entirety of the faction by countenance, but few by cognomen. Beryl's presence both frightened him and relieved him of worry. Frightened because he knew of her familiarity with firearms, and relief because he could not picture her in an antagonistic role. He also knew this to be in error, that sooner or later he needed to begin picturing all individuals present in antagonistic roles, but he needed something rather than nothing to go off of. Far more comforting was the sight of Jonah Heartgrave, whom Max recognized all too well from baseball. He harbored no ill will towards Jonah, and hoped that ran both ways. It would mean dropping the casual language, however. Jonah knew his diction too intimately for that to work. Pity.
What? An alliance. Simple.
When? Approximately noon, or slightly later, on the first day of their... internment? Captivity? Service? For once, Max was at a loss for a term to describe the exact position he was in. He settled on competition and moved down the list.
Where? In the woods, just before them, well in sight. As far as Max knew, they were to the North of the islands, but he conceded that his time spent in the great outdoors rendered him unable to determine their precise location.
Why? It appeared they had sought out this location for target practice. Max took heed of the wide variety of firearms among them, and suppressed an acknowledging whistle. His entourage was severely outgunned and wholly outnumbered. A diplomatic approach was the singular path they could take. That, or a tactical retreat, but the temptation of swaying one or two armed members of the group to his cause was too strong to pass up. Max found recently that temptation was getting the better of him. An unrelated and errant thought, but worth noting all the same.
"Let's approach," Max said, turning back to his group, "I know a few of them, one from my baseball team. They shouldn't shoot us—at least, not immediately."
With those words, he turned and walked towards the veritable militia before him, emerging from the underbrush. He used the man-catcher as a walking stick, fangs pointed heavens-ward. Beryl and Jonah were the closest to him, so he walked in their general direction. Not wanting to startle them into firing upon him, he greeted them when he was still presently a few yards away.
"Good afternoon," he said, projecting his voice in an amicable tone, "it sounds as though you've been enjoying yourselves."
The most cohesive place to begin was at the five W's.
Who? Tentatively, Max rose slightly and scanned the premises. It was difficult to see through the thicket of the woods, but he shortly found an angle. There appeared to be a large assemblage of individuals set apart from Max's group by a distance of medium length. They were ostensibly quintuple in number, although Max did not wholly discount the possibility of members unaccounted for elsewhere in the trees. He recognized the entirety of the faction by countenance, but few by cognomen. Beryl's presence both frightened him and relieved him of worry. Frightened because he knew of her familiarity with firearms, and relief because he could not picture her in an antagonistic role. He also knew this to be in error, that sooner or later he needed to begin picturing all individuals present in antagonistic roles, but he needed something rather than nothing to go off of. Far more comforting was the sight of Jonah Heartgrave, whom Max recognized all too well from baseball. He harbored no ill will towards Jonah, and hoped that ran both ways. It would mean dropping the casual language, however. Jonah knew his diction too intimately for that to work. Pity.
What? An alliance. Simple.
When? Approximately noon, or slightly later, on the first day of their... internment? Captivity? Service? For once, Max was at a loss for a term to describe the exact position he was in. He settled on competition and moved down the list.
Where? In the woods, just before them, well in sight. As far as Max knew, they were to the North of the islands, but he conceded that his time spent in the great outdoors rendered him unable to determine their precise location.
Why? It appeared they had sought out this location for target practice. Max took heed of the wide variety of firearms among them, and suppressed an acknowledging whistle. His entourage was severely outgunned and wholly outnumbered. A diplomatic approach was the singular path they could take. That, or a tactical retreat, but the temptation of swaying one or two armed members of the group to his cause was too strong to pass up. Max found recently that temptation was getting the better of him. An unrelated and errant thought, but worth noting all the same.
"Let's approach," Max said, turning back to his group, "I know a few of them, one from my baseball team. They shouldn't shoot us—at least, not immediately."
With those words, he turned and walked towards the veritable militia before him, emerging from the underbrush. He used the man-catcher as a walking stick, fangs pointed heavens-ward. Beryl and Jonah were the closest to him, so he walked in their general direction. Not wanting to startle them into firing upon him, he greeted them when he was still presently a few yards away.
"Good afternoon," he said, projecting his voice in an amicable tone, "it sounds as though you've been enjoying yourselves."
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BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 682
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: The Zone™
So the plan was to go talk to the people shooting things. Camilla stood up as Max began to approach the group, and the hand that clutched the walkie-talkie grasped it a little tighter. It wasn't a gun, but the feeling of a metal object in her hand was irrationally comforting anyway. When she saw over the greenery of the forest floor, she saw a ragtag herd of people, most of them with guns, one of them pointing a gun at... nothing in particular? Actually, it seemed to be pointed at the trees. Pointing guns at trees, probably for practice. They must have a lot of spare bullets. At least they were using the trees as target practice instead of the nearby group of other humans, something she hoped wouldn't change.
She walked along behind Max, and an inking of irritation dripped through her thoughts as she pondered how quick the group was to accept Max as the leader. Nobody ever said it, but the fact was pretty irrefutable, and a bit worrying in the light of his plan. He did say they were going to disarm any players first, but somehow Camilla felt that wasn't going to be what would happen, and almost guaranteed to be thrown out the window come the endgame. Bah, she shouldn't be so skeptical all the time, and shouldn't be so quick to assume ulterior motives, and she shouldn't be this, and she shouldn't be that, and why should she trust Max anyway?
Camilla paused. She shook her head lightly to clear her thoughts. Endgame? Ulterior motives? Those were distant dreams, more like nightmares honestly. Their goal was a noble one- stop people from killing others. Max was right about that, and as long as his actions followed through on his words, everything would be fine. If he didn't, well. He was only the leader by the implicit approval of the other two, and once they- honestly mostly Lucas, what with the shotgun and all- decided he would not be the boss of them, he wouldn't be. Right?
Now she was close enough to see the other group's faces. Max greeted them in a weirdly cheerful way, and Camilla examined the group. She only recognized one person right away- Beryl.
First she smiled, at the memories of Beryl's time in the gardening club, and she recalled inviting her to her own garden at home. The smile vanished when she remembered the way Beryl had simply drifted off, and away from any future contact. And now she was here with a ragtag bunch of gun owners while she herself wielded a chainsaw. It wasn't anything to smile about, unless they would somehow be able to turn them to their side.
Which was... possible. Beryl would probably be amicable. Though if their groups did merge, it would be a rather big group. Eight people, eight high school teens. That would be like herding cats, wouldn't it?
In the meantime, Camilla returned her expression to a small smile. The best she could manage. The Best Medicine. Hopefully they wouldn't notice its brief disappearance. She kind of wanted to open her mouth and also greet them, maybe give Beryl a little long time no see, but she felt like she'd just say something stupid and ruin their case or something.
She walked along behind Max, and an inking of irritation dripped through her thoughts as she pondered how quick the group was to accept Max as the leader. Nobody ever said it, but the fact was pretty irrefutable, and a bit worrying in the light of his plan. He did say they were going to disarm any players first, but somehow Camilla felt that wasn't going to be what would happen, and almost guaranteed to be thrown out the window come the endgame. Bah, she shouldn't be so skeptical all the time, and shouldn't be so quick to assume ulterior motives, and she shouldn't be this, and she shouldn't be that, and why should she trust Max anyway?
Camilla paused. She shook her head lightly to clear her thoughts. Endgame? Ulterior motives? Those were distant dreams, more like nightmares honestly. Their goal was a noble one- stop people from killing others. Max was right about that, and as long as his actions followed through on his words, everything would be fine. If he didn't, well. He was only the leader by the implicit approval of the other two, and once they- honestly mostly Lucas, what with the shotgun and all- decided he would not be the boss of them, he wouldn't be. Right?
Now she was close enough to see the other group's faces. Max greeted them in a weirdly cheerful way, and Camilla examined the group. She only recognized one person right away- Beryl.
First she smiled, at the memories of Beryl's time in the gardening club, and she recalled inviting her to her own garden at home. The smile vanished when she remembered the way Beryl had simply drifted off, and away from any future contact. And now she was here with a ragtag bunch of gun owners while she herself wielded a chainsaw. It wasn't anything to smile about, unless they would somehow be able to turn them to their side.
Which was... possible. Beryl would probably be amicable. Though if their groups did merge, it would be a rather big group. Eight people, eight high school teens. That would be like herding cats, wouldn't it?
In the meantime, Camilla returned her expression to a small smile. The best she could manage. The Best Medicine. Hopefully they wouldn't notice its brief disappearance. She kind of wanted to open her mouth and also greet them, maybe give Beryl a little long time no see, but she felt like she'd just say something stupid and ruin their case or something.
"No sun to rise would be okay with me... Everyday, every day is okay"
"A voice in her head, a voice in her head, screaming all the words that were left unsaid"
"A voice in her head, a voice in her head, screaming all the words that were left unsaid"
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
"Phew, thanks," he said to Beryl, wiping his forehead, which was beginning to be slightly damp. "And thanks for the lesson."
He felt a lot better about handling the gun now that he'd had a little practice. Jonah pulled out an instructional booklet that came with the gun.
"A safety catch is operable from either side. When in the ON position blocks the firing pin and at the same time disconnects the trigger from the firing mechanism," he read out loud. Jonah turned the garish weapon to the side and found the catch, pushing it in before sticking the gun into the back of his pants.
Load your firearm only when you are on the target range or in the field and ready to begin using it. Unload your gun as soon as you are finished shooting.
He reflected on that passage grimly. He wouldn't probably unload the gun unless he was out of ammunition. Abe asked what they were to do next and Henry suggested resting a little before becoming more familiar with the island. It seemed like sound advice. Jonah was privately still freaking out. It had been tempered a bit when he was concentrating on Beryl's lesson, but now that he was unoccupied again, all of the bad thoughts were starting to stab at him. Fear for himself, fear for his friends he couldn't see, fear for the new people he'd spent time with.
Then out of the woods came a voice, slightly stiff in a recognizable way, wishing them good time. The sentiment was weird, but the voice was familiar. Jonah whipped around and saw Max striding towards them. Max was holding something that looked like a Saw version of those claws people used to pick up trash from the ground.
Jonah took a few steps towards Max, hesitant at first, but then smooth. He wrapped his arms around Max and pulled him in to a hug.
"Max," he breathed out. He gave him the cool embrace of distant relatives, feeling some kind of invisible barrier between their skin that stopped tenderness from seeping past the outer layer.
Jonah thought back to the card he'd gotten from Max when he was sick and collapsed after their junior year game. Abel had come to see him in person, brought him homemade sweets, and brought him a Far Side card, with a joke about cannibal chickens eating chicken soup. It was all very sweet. Max's card was more reserved, refined.
"Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you" was the text on the front of the card, accompanied by a very pretty blue, watercolor flower.
Inside was a long message which required Jonah to drag himself from his recovery bed to his bookshelf to consult his dictionary, but which didn't really offer any significant words of comfort. Still, it was a nice gesture. The memory triggered another thought and he pulled away from Max.
"I'm glad you're okay. Are you okay? Have you seen Abel?"
He felt a lot better about handling the gun now that he'd had a little practice. Jonah pulled out an instructional booklet that came with the gun.
"A safety catch is operable from either side. When in the ON position blocks the firing pin and at the same time disconnects the trigger from the firing mechanism," he read out loud. Jonah turned the garish weapon to the side and found the catch, pushing it in before sticking the gun into the back of his pants.
Load your firearm only when you are on the target range or in the field and ready to begin using it. Unload your gun as soon as you are finished shooting.
He reflected on that passage grimly. He wouldn't probably unload the gun unless he was out of ammunition. Abe asked what they were to do next and Henry suggested resting a little before becoming more familiar with the island. It seemed like sound advice. Jonah was privately still freaking out. It had been tempered a bit when he was concentrating on Beryl's lesson, but now that he was unoccupied again, all of the bad thoughts were starting to stab at him. Fear for himself, fear for his friends he couldn't see, fear for the new people he'd spent time with.
Then out of the woods came a voice, slightly stiff in a recognizable way, wishing them good time. The sentiment was weird, but the voice was familiar. Jonah whipped around and saw Max striding towards them. Max was holding something that looked like a Saw version of those claws people used to pick up trash from the ground.
Jonah took a few steps towards Max, hesitant at first, but then smooth. He wrapped his arms around Max and pulled him in to a hug.
"Max," he breathed out. He gave him the cool embrace of distant relatives, feeling some kind of invisible barrier between their skin that stopped tenderness from seeping past the outer layer.
Jonah thought back to the card he'd gotten from Max when he was sick and collapsed after their junior year game. Abel had come to see him in person, brought him homemade sweets, and brought him a Far Side card, with a joke about cannibal chickens eating chicken soup. It was all very sweet. Max's card was more reserved, refined.
"Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you" was the text on the front of the card, accompanied by a very pretty blue, watercolor flower.
Inside was a long message which required Jonah to drag himself from his recovery bed to his bookshelf to consult his dictionary, but which didn't really offer any significant words of comfort. Still, it was a nice gesture. The memory triggered another thought and he pulled away from Max.
"I'm glad you're okay. Are you okay? Have you seen Abel?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The lesson had brought with it a number of pleasant surprises, not least of all being that Beryl sang along a bit. She wasn't any good! But that was okay. Carols were all about getting everyone participating and having fun, without any judgement. Besides, lots of people would sort of quietly imply Darlene wasn't any good either, not because she couldn't hold a note or drifted off-tune or anything like that, but because her favorite songs were of a genre that was only popular for three weeks a year and upset a lot of people during that span anyways for being gimmicky or culturally-insensitive or something. She found that super unfair.
Darlene didn't even believe in Jesus. She'd been on the internet! Well, that wasn't exactly it? She didn't believe in the normal way people meant, where they went to church and prayed directly to Jesus to save them and make them feel better. She thought that, from what she'd read, probably there was a man named Jesus back about when people said there was, and probably he really did present himself as a messiah and get crucified. And maybe his body vanished after three days. Maybe he even really did come back to life. It was a long time ago and there were a lot of things about the world nobody understood even now and Darlene wasn't going to act like she was great and wise when she was probably never even going to graduate high school. But the thing is, whatever Jesus did or didn't do, it was then written down in different ways by different people and edited and translated and tweaked over the years for all sorts of reasons. She thought a lot of religious people really meant well and believed in what they were saying but also if there was one simple word of God how could there be so many different factions all in disagreement? A king had even made his own just to get a divorce, she knew that much, King Henry VIII. There was a good song by Herman's Hermits that shared its name with him.
She wished she could research this religious thing more, because it had always struck her as sort of boring outside the most basic high-level stuff, which she might not even have right, but now it was piquing her curiosity yet she would never know, unless, she supposed, it was all true and she met Jesus or the devil and got to ask.
These thoughts were rolling around in her head for a lot of reasons, but in big part because it was terribly loud and kind of scary with all the gunfire going around, and even though it had been kind of fun and exciting when she was actually doing the shooting, now when she was just quietly reloading her gun (without spilling bullets everywhere this time!) it felt more serious and real.
And then, out of the trees in a direction Darlene hadn't been watching or shooting, there was someone else coming towards them, and he was carrying a huge and wicked claw on a stick. It was not brandished, and this plus the fact that Darlene still had the reloading hatch open as she slotted the last bullet into place was what kept her from instinctually pointing her gun at him.
What kept her from intentionally doing so, after she snapped everything back into position, was Jonah. Jonah walked up to the boy and embraced him and Darlene's breath caught but nothing bad happened. Okay, she thought, so this guy was okay then. That was a friendlier greeting than Jonah had given anyone else, except maybe Beryl but Beryl had been unconscious and he'd been trying to help her so that didn't really count.
There were other people behind the newcomer, both looking less polished and dignified than him, but both scarier in their own ways. The other boy held a large rifle of his own, and the girl was taller than everyone here, as tall even as Beryl. Darlene was used to being the shortest, but not by that much when it came to other girls. They'd been just as tall back at school, she was pretty sure, but when there were so many people around it was less obvious, especially with some of the huge football and basketball people. Here it felt more threatening to her, though.
She'd quietly followed along behind Jonah, crunching her way through the leaves and underbrush, just in case he needed help. What he could need help with, and what Darlene could do to offer it, were a little less certain; she wasn't hugging either of the others, that was for sure! She stood kind of behind Jonah, so he was partially blocking her view of them, and presumably theirs of her, too, and didn't say anything just yet. She'd stopped singing a bit ago, but now didn't seem the right time to kick it back up.
Darlene didn't even believe in Jesus. She'd been on the internet! Well, that wasn't exactly it? She didn't believe in the normal way people meant, where they went to church and prayed directly to Jesus to save them and make them feel better. She thought that, from what she'd read, probably there was a man named Jesus back about when people said there was, and probably he really did present himself as a messiah and get crucified. And maybe his body vanished after three days. Maybe he even really did come back to life. It was a long time ago and there were a lot of things about the world nobody understood even now and Darlene wasn't going to act like she was great and wise when she was probably never even going to graduate high school. But the thing is, whatever Jesus did or didn't do, it was then written down in different ways by different people and edited and translated and tweaked over the years for all sorts of reasons. She thought a lot of religious people really meant well and believed in what they were saying but also if there was one simple word of God how could there be so many different factions all in disagreement? A king had even made his own just to get a divorce, she knew that much, King Henry VIII. There was a good song by Herman's Hermits that shared its name with him.
She wished she could research this religious thing more, because it had always struck her as sort of boring outside the most basic high-level stuff, which she might not even have right, but now it was piquing her curiosity yet she would never know, unless, she supposed, it was all true and she met Jesus or the devil and got to ask.
These thoughts were rolling around in her head for a lot of reasons, but in big part because it was terribly loud and kind of scary with all the gunfire going around, and even though it had been kind of fun and exciting when she was actually doing the shooting, now when she was just quietly reloading her gun (without spilling bullets everywhere this time!) it felt more serious and real.
And then, out of the trees in a direction Darlene hadn't been watching or shooting, there was someone else coming towards them, and he was carrying a huge and wicked claw on a stick. It was not brandished, and this plus the fact that Darlene still had the reloading hatch open as she slotted the last bullet into place was what kept her from instinctually pointing her gun at him.
What kept her from intentionally doing so, after she snapped everything back into position, was Jonah. Jonah walked up to the boy and embraced him and Darlene's breath caught but nothing bad happened. Okay, she thought, so this guy was okay then. That was a friendlier greeting than Jonah had given anyone else, except maybe Beryl but Beryl had been unconscious and he'd been trying to help her so that didn't really count.
There were other people behind the newcomer, both looking less polished and dignified than him, but both scarier in their own ways. The other boy held a large rifle of his own, and the girl was taller than everyone here, as tall even as Beryl. Darlene was used to being the shortest, but not by that much when it came to other girls. They'd been just as tall back at school, she was pretty sure, but when there were so many people around it was less obvious, especially with some of the huge football and basketball people. Here it felt more threatening to her, though.
She'd quietly followed along behind Jonah, crunching her way through the leaves and underbrush, just in case he needed help. What he could need help with, and what Darlene could do to offer it, were a little less certain; she wasn't hugging either of the others, that was for sure! She stood kind of behind Jonah, so he was partially blocking her view of them, and presumably theirs of her, too, and didn't say anything just yet. She'd stopped singing a bit ago, but now didn't seem the right time to kick it back up.