Iron and Rust

[Espi]

((Paloma felt like shit.))

She'd gotten away from the boat and the Carters and whoever had yelled out after her, found a clump of soft ferns and bushes and the like in the woods, and tried to camp out for the day. She'd slept as much as she could, but eventually she got too restless and ended up doodling in the mud. The trees kept some of the rain off of her, but not much, and she didn't have a hood or any kind of cover. All her clothes were gone, with everything else she needed to stay alive.

It was the right call, Paloma decided. She could have called their bluff, maybe, but the risk was excessive. If he shot her, that was it, she'd die. If he didn't, she still had a chance, even without food or water. She just needed to get someone else's. She'd already done it once. An accident, she'd insisted, but it was played out favorably for her. And now those two jackasses were reaping the rewards. Goddamn them.

Paloma brushed leaves off of her turtleneck, and tried to keep herself from rubbing her dry lips. Her throat and mouth were tacky and scratchy, and her stomach ached, nauseous with lack of food. She'd always hated that, when she felt queasy from not eating. Counterproductive, was what it was. In no small amount of desperation, she'd taken to licking the rain off the leaves of the bush. It tasted bitter and grassy, but she probably hadn't been poisoned by it, and it helped a little. Eventually, though, she needed to do something.

Stumbling slightly as she rose to her feet, Paloma mentally recited as many of the names of the killers and the dead as she could. The most obvious was Ron. That kind of hurt, but in a way, it was relieving. She didn't know when Tirzah had killed him, but if she'd stayed, if the Carters hadn't driven her off, maybe she'd be dead too. And if he'd come with her, maybe he'd be alive. Not her fault. Not at all. And now, it even meant she didn't have to watch him die, or kill him herself. That helped. It was better this way, really it was.

Also Kayla was dead. She'd seen her on the first day, by the stables. She was the only dead she remembered meeting off-hand, besides Ron, whose killer now had two victims and a gun. Watch out for Tirzah. Nick killed again, and Kelly Nguyen contaminated Mercy's food. That made her nervous. She would probably be better off not going anywhere near someone that cunning or underhanded, let alone trying to take her food. Quinn Arbert was a name she recognized. The love letter girl. Paloma had never seen them herself, which was probably for the best. Admittedly, she was flattered by the attention, a little, and she didn't take too much offense to another girl liking her. But it had been embarrassing, and she had made an effort to avoid associating there. Paloma should probably avoid Quinn too.

Exhaling, Paloma tried to hold herself upright in spite of the stomach pain. Having something to focus on had helped. Now she needed a goal. There was an easy one; find someone and take their stuff. It was simple, easy, and if she did it right didn't require her to kill them. Ideally, even. She could sneak up, grab their bag, and run. Easy. Paloma started walking, clenching her teeth until the hunger pangs died down. She didn't want to die, so everything she did until now and from now on had to be towards that goal. It was that simple. She needed food and water, she'd have to get some. Or she'd die.

Everyone had to decide what they were willing to do to survive, if they were. Tirzah, Kelly, Nick, Ty, the Carters, they had decided.

((She'd made her choice, too.))